Diana stumbled on her left high heel and tried not to worry about her puffy eyes. The world was toppling down in more ways than one and Milana was in danger, and these people want to throw a party and dance. Don't think about it, don't cry. No idea how many other guests held at gun-point, who knows — well, maybe Cristo does — but they're good at pretending the only thing that's wrong is night coming along without their express invitation, and even if it's the end of time, nothing's more important than to be seen in the latest trends at the most exclusive location during their final moments. No one to say goodbye to who's not on the guest list.
Only needed to be seen, for someone to compliment their shoes, and someone else to see and be jealous.
Someone just stepped on my shoe, might be a sign of jealousy, but these are last season. Cristo said to come to the party and then he leaves me here with a hundred greedy wealthy immortals. Eyeing me horrified by my misery. Horrified by undisguised emotion, how could I hide it? Milana abducted and Cristo not doing a thing to find her, pretty sure he's not going to find her under the tablecloths of Potestas Tower's bar lounge.
Everyone was staring, whispering, shocked Diana didn't know how to act around company. Or maybe because she had written all over her face just what they felt, but were never able express.
Something was taken from them too, wasn't it? She was sure, and they couldn't stand to see their own pain mirrored back at them. Everyone went around wearing masks, and they couldn't take it, couldn't take seeing her face without one. Couldn't take what was underneath. But they couldn't look away, either.
Three weeks ago Diana stumbled onto a detached open house in downtown Soliara, and she never told Milana. Constellation contract or no, a house in the core was expensive; they almost never came on the market since no one ever died. Seven hundred square feet a thousand feet up would be much more affordable. Before she walked into the monolith of a house, she strolled the perimeter, trotted on the grass unbelievably luscious on all sides, and pretended Milana was there with her between the tall hedge rows and brick wall. The back door was open and from the back yard the kitchen was industrial sized, big enough for Milana to teach her to cook, big enough to cook for house parties. Why they would need so much space, why anyone needed labyrinthine hallways and six living rooms she didn't know, but they needed the industrial sized kitchen, they just did.
She hadn't gone in, though. Back around over the grass to the front of the house, peering in the windows, trying to count the living rooms. The for-sale sign said four bedrooms, what would they do with four bedrooms and no children? What was anybody doing with four bedrooms and no children?
She didn't go in but she pretended Milana was standing on the front lawn with her plotting to start an orphanage for the children of Nausicaa, not because she particularly liked children or ever planned or dreamed of saving the world's children, but because what the heck else was a giant monolith of a house good for?
First thing this morning, on the trolly with Milana, she had been dreaming of entering this house. Today, holding Milana's hand. Maybe they would just take it, decades of debt notwithstanding. What was anyone doing buying monolith houses with grass on all sides in the core? Why shouldn't she?
Today was derailed, the future was gone. What was on her calendar for tomorrow?
What she was already struggling for just vanished in a shocked poof and tonight the world was suddenly unforeseeably so much worse than it had been before. What good was even seven hundred square feet, a thousand feet up, without Milana?
The wait was killing her, and she had to keep wiping drops of moisture from her eyes with a wipe of the back of her hand, trying not to smudge the black on her eyes and eye lashes. Diana wanted to find Cristo, to find Milana, to find Milana's abductors, to do something other than waiting for something to happen to sweet, undeserving Milana, and it was all Diana's fault and how could everyone stare, didn't they know what was happening? Panic spiraled the room and she needed to sit down, visions of puffy eyes in her head while partygoers danced and some stepped on her shoes. Need to sit down.
Not hard like them, what glances off their armor slashes me open and I pour out right before their eyes what they can hide no problem, and how are these unsympathetic eyes in any way qualified to lead the Solari Empire?
Franco was proud of himself for thoroughly infiltrating Soliara's social stratum by hora nona and was laughing along with the bunch of jackals as if he were a jackal himself. Older board members he never talked to except to deride their insane ideas, or their stupid ones, or radical ones. Or moderate ones.
Now he had them patting him on the back, grabbing his arm as they howled at his jokes, confiding all their boring secrets and toasting his immortal life and health every time they knocked one back. The entourage was meant to give him something to do and someone to stand with while he thought, but he couldn't think like this.
Unfortunately, they wanted to know everything about him. The constant questions kept him on his toes instead of letting him recede into the depths of the frontal lobe of his cerebrum where he could do some problem solving.
"The department of power, I don't even understand what that is. Isn't the name vague?" asked Exequi Marcus Dormer.
"Not at all," said Franco. "We examine star power in its purest form, both empirically and theoretically, and while our research intersects with every—"
"Well, that's exactly what I was going to say, aren't all of Constellation's departments departments of power?"
"No, Constellation's other departments use our research for their unique purposes. We work toward our purposes—"
"Which are what exactly? Reversing immortality?" His affectionate smile for Franco didn't shrink a millimeter even when he added, "That won't ever be approved, I don't care who ends up president."
Rocking forward onto his toes, Franco denied any allegations that the power department was involved in any plans to reverse immortality. That was the cover for their second star dial, and everyone already believed it, but the fun part was Franco was under strict instruction to deny it. "The power department is not in any way working on the problem of how to reverse immortality. We only seek greater understanding of the energy source behind magic. Simple as that."
"No one believes you," said Marcus Domus, and he grinned, and Exequi Pons grinned like they'd trapped him. Exequi Gaius Accius patted Franco on the back again.
Franco let himself smile slyly as if he had been caught. "Now, I think the solar phenomenon today's a good example for why the power department wants to know more about what we're playing with," and this he could discuss without thinking, mindless words tumbling out of his mouth while his brain worked on other problems and his audience laughed, gushed, and at one point even clapped. Funny how fear mongering could be met with laughter and applause.
His generation tended to respond with pouting and outrage, which pretty much amounted to the same thing.
For a second Franco wondered if he could talk these four into voting Marius, but Justin, master technician, didn't think these four could be moved.
The last thing Justin had said to Franco rang in his ears: "Eliminate Ilan Potestas, and maybe you will feel more deserving of your reward." The gnomon was heavy in his jacket pocket. It pulled his jacket down tight on the left side. Impractical. Prototypes never got convenience right on the first try.
He told Marcus Dormer another joke. Then, while he had them all roaring, he made his polite and swift escape.
His push through bodies between him and the bar was less polite, but he needed a drink and a more productive space for procrastinating.
Unfortunately, when he sidled up to the bar, he didn't find himself alone with the bartender and his thoughts, but rather about to be swept up in another demanding conversation. There was Lucian Acario on a barstool, and he waved Franco in. From the steel on his face, it wasn't a social request.
Thank you for coming to the party. Please leave a star for Stars Rise if you're having a nice time.