skin, bone, and arrogance
As the not-quite-titular-head-of-government of a major faction on the other side of the galaxy, Natasi Fortan had experienced a rather odd not-quite-titular-visit to Arkania, where she had met with a smaller BioMechanical company to investigate the possibility of securing an adrenals supplier that knew their rear end from their elbow. The visit had been promising, and between discussions, Natasi had been treated to a tour of the Adascopolis Financial Exchange and other highlights of the city -- all as a private guest, a friend of the family, and never in any official capacity. Natasi never knew she had so many Arkanian friends, but the lengths to which they would go to get the First Order's business was impressive, to say the least.
The Moff was rather worn out. Though her visit had officially ended the day before, she had stayed on to do some shopping and sight-seeing on her own. Diamonds here were of the finest quality, and reasonable in price -- for diamonds, at least -- and frankly, she wasn't ready to go back to Dosuun yet. Everything there set her teeth on edge, from her office, with its maddening proximity to that of General Vaas, to her empty apartment and cold bed, to the Lotus Club, now ruined by the startling news she had received there. Even walking along the very boulevards and parks she had helped to design herself gave her no pleasure. Natasi was starting to view the world in shades of grey, the color disappearing slowly but steadily. Soon there would be nothing left. At the beginning, this troubled her. Now, she couldn't find a single damn to give.
After a day window shopping -- and shopping-shopping, having finally replaced her the fur coat she had given Sioux Chambers in her will, which she had justified as a necessity given the frigid environs of Arkania -- she was famished and not quite in the mood for another room service meal, so she had asked her hotel's concierge for directions to the best restaurant in the city, and asked him to make her a reservation for eight. She arrived in the coat, of black fur, with silver fox on collar and cuffs, and was helped out of the coat by the host, who inquired after her name. He studied his list. "I'm sorry, what was the name?" he asked.
"Fortan -- F-O-R-T-A-N," she repeated quietly, casting a quick glance around the waiting area. There were people looking. "The hotel concierge called over this afternoon. The Diadem Imperial," she clarified.
"Ah -- well, that's it -- we explained to him that we don't take reservations for parties of one. But if you'd care to wait, we can probably seat you in -- oh, an hour or so?"
"Do you know --" Natasi began, but stopped herself from finishing with: who I am? Of course they didn't. And they wouldn't care if they did. She forced a polite smile. "-- that is, I guess I'll wait."
[member="Ordon Trozky"]
The Moff was rather worn out. Though her visit had officially ended the day before, she had stayed on to do some shopping and sight-seeing on her own. Diamonds here were of the finest quality, and reasonable in price -- for diamonds, at least -- and frankly, she wasn't ready to go back to Dosuun yet. Everything there set her teeth on edge, from her office, with its maddening proximity to that of General Vaas, to her empty apartment and cold bed, to the Lotus Club, now ruined by the startling news she had received there. Even walking along the very boulevards and parks she had helped to design herself gave her no pleasure. Natasi was starting to view the world in shades of grey, the color disappearing slowly but steadily. Soon there would be nothing left. At the beginning, this troubled her. Now, she couldn't find a single damn to give.
After a day window shopping -- and shopping-shopping, having finally replaced her the fur coat she had given Sioux Chambers in her will, which she had justified as a necessity given the frigid environs of Arkania -- she was famished and not quite in the mood for another room service meal, so she had asked her hotel's concierge for directions to the best restaurant in the city, and asked him to make her a reservation for eight. She arrived in the coat, of black fur, with silver fox on collar and cuffs, and was helped out of the coat by the host, who inquired after her name. He studied his list. "I'm sorry, what was the name?" he asked.
"Fortan -- F-O-R-T-A-N," she repeated quietly, casting a quick glance around the waiting area. There were people looking. "The hotel concierge called over this afternoon. The Diadem Imperial," she clarified.
"Ah -- well, that's it -- we explained to him that we don't take reservations for parties of one. But if you'd care to wait, we can probably seat you in -- oh, an hour or so?"
"Do you know --" Natasi began, but stopped herself from finishing with: who I am? Of course they didn't. And they wouldn't care if they did. She forced a polite smile. "-- that is, I guess I'll wait."
[member="Ordon Trozky"]