May. 7th, 2017

longterm: (11 copy)
[personal profile] longterm
Cesare was reading the paper, sipping his morning coffee when the news of the Sylvia Redbright scandal broke. Good. He appreciated that so far Samantha had held up to her end of the bargain. All things considered, he had hoped she would but certainly hadn't expected it from her. Over time, Cesare has learned that people can be slippery like that, especially when you give them an opportunity for it. So far, Samantha has been solid. He likes her.

That morning he arranges a meeting with the press in one of the private function rooms of his hotel, somewhere private, where he cannot be interrupted. He's dressed in a suit, though his normal, somewhat ostentatious cufflinks are traded in for something more modest, and he's standing at a lectern on which his speech is written, a speech that he had written weeks prior.

"I am not the representative for my Nest and I speak solely for myself. However, I am certain when I say that President Redbright's behaviour has been shocking, appalling and harrowing. She has lead not one, not two, but three of the most prominent factions within this city and she has done so with underhand deals, deception and subterfuge. It is dishonest. It is corrupt. And it is undiplomatic.

When given the opportunity to be the voice of the people, she has used this power not for good, but for her own crooked personal gain. She has betrayed the people she was charged with representing, and that is why it is only right that she surrender a portion of the territories that she has dishonestly acquired, and give them to the Night Council that she has cheated for so long.

I am asking not for my own personal gain, but as a concerned citizen who has had enough of her corruption. It is time that she be held to account for her actions."
morevacant: (coy)
[personal profile] morevacant
Popping. Locking. Bumping. Grinding. Since getting out of Meryton, Lydia's eyes have really been opened. Long gone are the elegant waltzes she had dutifully practiced to shut her mother up. Now Lydia spends every weekend, and then some, in London's clubs. Vodka flows, money is swallowed by hungry registers and Lydia stumbles out, exhausted and in search of cheesy chips, chicken nuggets and gravy.

Tonight though, she's gone someplace a little classier. She''s on the last of her money, but for now, she doesn't care. Lydia's learned enough to work out how to get guys to buy her drinks. Who needs magic when they have charm in buckets? Even several vodkas later though, Lydia's alert enough to spot a famous face when he walks in, and what a handsome face.

She zeroes in, dancing closer and closer to Cesare in what she supposes is a subtle manner, until after about half an hour of careful inching and meandering back and forth from nearby, she accidentally on purpose bangs into him.

"Oh my, I am so sorry!" she twitters, eyelashes batting and not sounding at all sorry.
"I didn't see you there, though how I managed to miss a man so handsome is beyond me."


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