The Elixir

~Gala

Derald stands straight, puffing out his chest.

Vieva elbows him and he deflates with a grunt. "Back straight, chin parallel to the floor, small, measured steps. It's not that hard."

Not that hard my foot.

The Inventory's sitting areas and directory had been changed into a dance floor and lounge. Reams of silk dangle from the banister, and fresh cut flowers, in the same shade of pastels, decorate the room in floral pops of color. The food table is on the far side of the room, yet not one person takes anything from it. He frowns. What's the point of having so much good food if no one eats it?

Derald feels so out of place, he could feel layers of sweat collecting under his tux. He reaches to loosen his tie but Vieva slaps his hands away quickly.

"Don't touch anything."

"But I-"

She silences him with a cold look. Derald refocuses his attention to the attendees of the gala. All the high-caliber members of Ruxnorth's upper society have gathered here, talking quietly amongst themselves. They have been dressed in varying shades of light pinks, yellows, and purples. They stand in small clusters, talking so quietly Derald can't hear a single word. There is an occasional polite laugh, and a grimacing smile, but in truth, no one looked happy to be here.

"Are all rich people parties so dull?" he whispers to Vieva, trying to lighten the mood. But she isn't listening. She wets her lips lightly.

"Obstacle number one," murmurs Vieva, jutting her chin lightly in the direction of four approaching men. The largest and clearly the most powerful, a man with platinum blonde hair cropped close to his scalp and eyes of fire. Another fire-eyed boy, but with black hair, keeps pace a few steps behind. The other two are obviously father and son. The father has a time-wearied face, but studious eyes. And his son, striding proudly beside his father, is none other than Kayd Wyvern.

As if this night couldn't get any worse.

"Just follow my lead," Vieva says from the corner of her mouth. Then, right before his eyes, Vieva metamorphoses into the regal, harshly elegant girl that he'd met back in September. Her eyes cool into a steady, yet impassioned warmth, vastly different from the fierce flame he's used to. Her eyes narrow cautiously, while her mouth sets.

The four stop in front of them, and Derald has to fight the urge not to shrink under their disapproving glares. It's as though they can smell the middle-class emanating from him.

"Daughter." The imposing man speaks first. "How goes your studies?"

Derald's hardly shocked. Vieva and this man are identical, in every way. Derald gulps inaudibly, the urge to tug on his tie stronger than ever. Jonan Bestel is the most terrifying man in all of Ruxnorth, and Derald is standing in front of him. Don't faint. The black haired boy grins his way, seeming to understand Derald's plight.

"Top of the class, obviously." Vieva responds, with a detached tone of voice. Uncaring.

"Good." Then Jonan reverses his attention to Derald, who nearly emits a squeak. He doesn't get scared of much, but Jonan's mere presence is enough to make Derald want to abandon the mission altogether.

"Who is this boy, Vieva?" Jonan speaks in that soft, lethal way of his.

"This is Derald Pellefard, Father. A colleague of mine."

"What is he?" Jonan continues to talk as though Derald isn't there. Which is fine by him; words seem to have fled from his mouth.

"A Tsunami." Vieva gauges Jonan's reaction. The elder Wyvern's mouth puckers in contempt, while Kayd sneers. Jonan seems unaffected by Vieva's bold choice. Derald isn't an idiot- he knows that in Ruxnorth, though no one outwardly says anything, Arcanes are the most powerful. Already one disadvantage. His prospects of continuing through are looking smaller and smaller.