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Post by Eve Voclain on Aug 28, 2016 19:49:31 GMT -7
School had started recently. At first, Eve was excited. College was supposed to be difficult, a huge step up from high school. However, in the less than a month that she'd been there, she'd already finished all her coursework for the semester, including the big projects with the exception of a couple of group projects she wasn't allowed to start on yet, and read through each of her several hundred page text books multiple times. It was fortunate that she was used to being disappointed because this was one of the biggest let downs in her recent memory. Going to class seemed like a formality at this point, but she insisted on going anyway. Most of the time there wasn't much point, but part of her wanted to believe that was only because classes had just gotten started. One good thing had come out of starting school though. Her parents were finally starting to treat her like an adult.
Eve decided to stay at home for the time being, preferring the idea of at least having her own space rather than having to share a dorm with god knows who. Playing that kind of roulette with living space seemed like a terrible idea. At least at home she not only knew what she was getting already, but at least had her own private areas where people knew better than to bother her. Thus, when she saw a moving truck drive past from her bedroom window, Eve could only feel a sense of dread. She didn't mind new neighbors. Most of the time she would ignore them, only bothering to introduce herself and not much more. Her parents however were far more obsessive with their appearances. Their strides in treating her like an adult, hell like a person, would undoubtedly fall to the wayside as she because their perfect, precious little daughter once more. The mere thought was enough to make her stare out the window like a deer in headlights.
Her first thought was that she didn't have to go this time, she could meet the new neighbor on her own terms without her parents around. It sounded great in theory, but Eve knew better. Her parents were just as tenacious as she was, and her mother in particular believed that there were certain things families just had to do. Her mother had become more okay with her missing dinner and eating alone since she turned 18, even if Eve could tell she wasn't very happy. Before then, if she so much as tried to skip dinner, her mother would show up at her bedroom door and knock loudly until Eve came downstairs, even if she opened the door to acknowledge her presence, then would spend dinner making passive-aggressive comments the entire time, and that was if she was in a relatively good mood, or had cooked a merely average dinner. It could always be a lot worse. Her parents were willing to respect her privacy, personal space, and autonomy as long as she did a few things to keep them happy. Sadly, this would be one of those things. Ultimately, her parents still had enough power over her that it would be difficult to refuse. She hated authority.
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Eve had a scowl on her face the entire trip there, but she was otherwise presentable. Her hair was pristine as always, long, perfectly brushed and styled, clean, and shiny. She didn't wear much makeup, just enough to hide the dark rings under her eyes, hide her freckles, and to make her features look a little less pointy. Her clothing was simple and consisted of a plain red T-shirt with an open black jacket that only went down to the bottom of her ribs. Her pants were simple black slacks with no decoration, and her shoes were simple black boots with a very small heel also with no decorations. Her only accessories were a simple silver necklace with a small abstract pendant, and a silver ring on her left thumb.
Her parents weren't willing to keep it that simple. Her father wore a white suit with gold trim. Parts of it looked like simple gold threading, but there were some decorations on the lapel that were actually made of real gold, with similar patterns going down where it buttoned up and along the bottom edges of the jacket. The rest of the outfit was just as outlandish. Her mother's was even worse. It was a long white dress with multiple layers and flowing, translucent sleeves. What really made it absurd was the sheer amount of accessories she was wearing. Eve couldn't even count them all there were so many, and there were so many different colors in them that it was a little hard to look at. Worse than their clothing was their unsettling demeanor and other parts of their appearance. They were both smiling widely, pleasantly, but almost too pleasantly. Their teeth were absolutely flawless and perfectly shaped. They, along with the rest of their faces, looked almost plastic. Her father had a small scar on the bottom of his chin, only noticeable because hair didn't grow there, suggesting that wasn't his original chin. Her mother's face looked oddly tight, like moving it the wrong way might cause it to tear. Eve with her darker clothes and scowl on her face stood in stark contrast to the two of them.
Her mother was carrying a very carefully crafted cake that was even gluten free just in case. It was layered with intricately placed decorative bits of frosting. She baked it herself from scratch as there was little she liked doing more than cooking. Even though they had more than enough money to hire a personal chef, they opted not to just because her mother preferred to do the cooking herself. Even Eve had little doubt that the cake would be absolutely delicious, even if she hated looking at it all the way over to the new neighbor's house. It reeked of pretentiousness, just like her parents in general. Her father was the one that knocked on the door and rang the doorbell. He always insisted on doing both, and Eve never understood why. Once the door was answered, her father looked the servant straight in the eye and addressed him in an overly enthusiastic way.
"Hello! We're the Voclains. We live just down the street. We're here to welcome our new neighbors to the neighborhood! Are they taking guests right now?"
Eve could only seethe off to the side, wishing she wasn't here.
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Post by Avaline Ophilia on Sept 2, 2016 22:57:28 GMT -7
It was Avaline’s head butler who answered the door. He was a short and thin fellow, good at his job and recently in possession of a higher paying one than he had ever had before. Moments prior to the ringing of the doorbell, he was also attempting to deal with the unfortunate meeting of the large crystal chandelier, an ill-placed painting, and the greeting room’s wooden floor. The house as a whole was large but empty, save for the few boxes of possession Avaline personally owned and the couple peices of newly ordered furniture that had arrived just in the past two days. There were beds in the rooms and a single table in the dining hall that was missing all but two of its chairs due to a delivery mishap, but besides the few odd paintings and a rug, the rooms were empty, the walls were blank, and the floors were barren. They hadn’t even had time to stock the kitchen yet due to what felt like a continuous string of everything that could go wrong going wrong, like he’d been dragged into some exaggerated warning about children lacking parental supervision.
So he was not expecting guests and now was, in fact, not a good time for one of the more influential - if not most influential, if the rumors he’d been picking up were to be believed - families in the area to arrive. But, he had to resolve himself as he forced a smile and opened the door for who would have to be honored guests, it was for this exact reason that he could not turn them away.
He attempted to hide the rag bloodied by a bit of crystal in his palm behind the door. “Of course, Mr. and Ms. Voclains! It is an honor to have all- three of you here.” The butler liked to think of himself as immune to the grandeur of people of these sorts, but Mr. and Ms. Voclain were so… luminescent, was one way to put it, that he nearly missed the third guest they’d be having.
Including Avaline, that would be four. They would need to locate dishes, prepare food - it was a good thing that one of the other hired staff had proven himself to be a fine enough cook - and somehow gather together two more chairs. And, they would have to attempt to make Avaline presentable and willing while hiding the full extent to which they were not at all prepared to have guests.
He shot a look over his shoulder to the other staff member in the room, summoning her from the pile of broken glass, crystal, and wires that littered the room’s center. “Would you like me to take that wonderful looking cake to the kitchen? Dianne here will lead you to the dining room.” The head butler offered pleasantly, motioning to the woman, who bowed. Before he let her depart with their guests, however, he leaned in and whispered for her to take them through the gardens; the one area that had come with the house and no need of furniture. The dining hall was situated as close as the large door down the center hall, but they needed time.
Dianne would quickly usher the trio with a relaxed smile down the wall of the room to the first hallway, attempting to keep herself between them and the wreckage. The course she had plotted would take them down an empty hall, out onto a wooden porch that exited out into the side of the garden, and down a winding paved stone path through a victorian style garden that had been left uncared for for about a month and Avaline had declared she wanted replaced. She would attempt to take her time, but even the long way was unlikely to take them more than five to seven minutes’ trip to the dining hall.
Only once they were out of sight did the head butler allow a moment’s panic to wash over him. He needed to quickly locate all of the staff, get them set on jobs immediately if they were going to make this work, and find and prepare- Avaline.
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Avaline had not bathed in four days. She had seen no need, and her butler now saw no time. She wore a very discontented frown as her butler pulled her black hair, shiny with grease, back into a french braid and helped her into the first presentable outfit he had found. Like furniture, Avaline was also waiting on her ordered formal clothes to arrive, meaning she had only the article that she had personally owned prior to moving here. Her fashion sense could be placed as nearly the exact opposite as the husband and wife who had come; practicality and comfort over any sort of looks. He had to dig through many too-large t-shirts, dresses, and pants and skirts that were hardly a step up from pajamas before he found a simple white sun dress and a brown knit sweater that were about as presentable as he was going to find.
Avaline had no jewelry to speak of, and only winter scarves as accessories. One of the other butlers found them and gave the young head of the house a light coat of her make up, and it was decided that it was just going to have to do.
Avaline herself was not content at all with the situation as she was lead downstairs to the dining room. Two wooden chairs, obviously mismatched from the heavy darkwood table and the two carved and padded chairs that had been offered to Mr. and Ms. Voclain, had been found and placed along the table; one for Avaline, and the other three across the table. A few minutes after the woman would’ve lead them to the dining room and assured them Ms. Ophelia would be down as soon as she could, Avaline stepped into the room without greeting took her unfortunate seat with a frown that didn’t try to hide in the slightest how she felt about the situation.
She was busy. She did not want guests. The whole point of moving here was to get away from people constantly bothering her and breathing down her neck. And yet here guests were, and she was supposed to entertain them. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and knitting her fingers in front of her, and made more eye contact with a tree outside than any of the three of them. She hoped they were not looking for casual conversation, because she had none to offer.
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Post by Eve Voclain on Sept 11, 2016 1:34:47 GMT -7
Eve immediately could tell something was wrong. The butler looked nervous, and he was intentionally hiding something behind the door, though she couldn't tell what. She couldn't tell if her parents noticed or not. It was just as likely that they'd be blind to the whole situation as it was they noticed and were pretending not to noticed while they felt superior. With as dishonest as they were, it was fortunate for them that they tended to be so difficult to read. If they weren't, they wouldn't have lasted nearly as long as they have in what they do. Her parents kept their focus on the butler, but Eve was trying to look around him to see what he was hiding, both in what was in his hand and what was going on deeper in the house. The situation had her rather curious. Before she could see anything, her mother stepped forward and held out the cake.
"Oh yes, that would be lovely."
As they were all lead towards the dining room, Eve tried to sneak a few last peeks, and was at least able to catch the signs of a some broken glass, or at least something like broken glass. The walk through the gardens confirmed it to her. There was no way a rich family would let their house or gardens be in such disarray under normal circumstances. The garden wasn't in bad shape, but the way certain leaves covered the path and the length of some of the grass was unusual. This family wasn't ready for guests at all yet. Figures that they'd be just as fake as everyone else, otherwise they would have told them to fuck off already. All these social niceties pissed her off. It was enough to make her mood sour further. By the time they all got to the dining room, Eve looked even crankier than Avaline.
Her parents took their seats, and Eve begrudgingly took hers. The table, no the entire room, confirmed exactly how unprepared they were. The chairs didn't match each other or the table, there was nothing on the walls, no decorations on the table, no dishes ready, and the host looked even worse than the room did. Eve kept wondering why they were even here. By this point her parents must have noticed how off everything was, which only confirmed that they were likely reveling in their superiority behind those plastered on smiles. Eve herself put an elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand, looking directly at the girl across the table. She looked young, like 12 at most. Eve assumed this girl was the owners' daughter, but there were only four chairs placed, and the servants words suggested that there was only one person coming. Eve looked at her carefully, but her thoughts were interrupted by her father's obnoxious voice.
"Where are your parents little lady?"
Eve's face flushed red from second-hand embarrassment. Did people seriously talk like that still? She took her free hand to rub her forehead, this was getting hard to watch.
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Post by Avaline Ophilia on Sept 12, 2016 1:05:51 GMT -7
Avaline waited for them to begin the conversation. Whether it took a matter of seconds or several minutes, she didn’t care; she wished for them to state their business, because she certainly didn’t have any. The glass father was the one to break the silence, but with what did not improve Avaline’s disposition.
“In another state.” Avaline replied flatly.
Avaline’s eyes had come to rest squarely and solely back on the Voclain’s daughter, because the adults seemed plastic monstrosities akin to mannequins come to life. She found their smiles unsettling. If she must make eye contact with someone, the singular human seeming guest was her clear preference.
Personally, she was content with her answer, but if left like that, there were sure to be more questions. Avaline did not want to waste time on pleasantries or meaningless queries, and so she would speak preemptively. The sooner they got to the point, the better. She did not, however, ever look directly at either of the parental Voclains.
“If you are inquiring to if they will be joining us this evening, they will not. I am the head of this household. My parents have nothing to do with it, and so they will not be here, now or ever. I would also appreciate it if you would not refer to me as ‘little lady’, Mr. Voclain. My name is Avaline Ophelia.”
The door leading to the kitchen opened, and one of her servants came out carrying a stack of plates, utensils, and glasses. By some kind of miracle, they’d managed to find sets of matching four of each, though the glasses were from a different set - crystal - than the intricate china plates. All were recent arrivals, meaning they had to be washed. And since no one had had time to get around to that yet, it had to be done the moment before. She had dried them thoroughly, but they were still warm from the water.
The servant placed one of each of the dining wares in front of each of them, ending with Avaline, but didn’t immediately depart. Why, Avaline wasn’t entirely sure. The butler cast a glance down at the girl, who, realizing she was trying to get her attention, gave a confused look in return. The butler tried to cough subtly into her fist. A moment of silence passed, and, exasperated, the woman leaned down and whispered in Avaline’s ear.
“Ah,” Avaline said suddenly, “can I offer you any drinks?”
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Post by Eve Voclain on Sept 14, 2016 3:04:21 GMT -7
Eve's eyes practically rolled back into her head when Avaline answered her father's question. Not because of her response, but because of what she knew was going to happen because of that response. Family was one area where her parents were painfully predictable, and their family was something both of them took pride in despite how much she hated them. She knew they had to know because they weren't that stupid, they probably just liked to pretend nothing was wrong. Eve considered trying to find a way to change the subject, but sure enough, her mother's bony fingers covered her mouth and she let out a small gasp. Her mother looked at Avaline with a mixture of shock and pity before lowering her hand slightly to speak.
"Oh you poor thing! It must be so hard to so far away from them, and to have to live on your own at such a young age no less. It's good that they're still able to provide for you but...is everything okay?" the concern in her voice sounded genuine, but Eve didn't believe it for a second. "If you need anything we'd be happy to help. We won't leave you here all alone. Eve here," she gently pat her on the head, and Eve had to suppress the urge to bite her hand, "doesn't look that much older than you even."
Eve's fingers started digging into her cheek, leaving redness and nail marks behind. There was only so much she could take here. Treating the person they were supposed to be introducing themselves like a child, even if she kind of was, was one thing, but she had no intention of taking that from her parents anymore. Nor was she some adorable puppy to be tossed around for other's enjoyment.
"I stopped being 12 years ago."
She met her mother's gaze, and the venom in her expression was obvious. Her mother returned it, though her look of disappointment and irritation only lasted for a second before she looked back at Avaline with a pleasant expression like nothing happened. Eve's eyes slowly returned to Avaline, mirroring their host's expression. She could tell that she'd be hearing about this later, but she didn't care right now. At this point she was already suppressing the urge to punch something so much she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to do it. Without missing a beat, and all while pretending nothing happened, her father spoke up again.
"Well Avaline, it must be nice to have enough flexibility to send you where you need to go. What do your parents do, and what brings you to our fine city?"
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Post by Avaline Ophilia on Sept 16, 2016 14:43:35 GMT -7
It took all of Avaline’s willpower to not directly say, ‘I am fine, please leave me alone’. The Voclains’ response was insulting on more than one level; suggesting that she was living off of her parents’ support in place of taking perfectly good care of herself, that her situation - and by extension her - was somehow lesser because of her lack of parental supervision, that they were therefore in a position to offer her help when she required none, and that she was twelve.
“I’m fourteen.” Avaline muttered dignantly, allowing herself that, at least.
She was oblivious to the Voclain’s wordless exchange. Instead, she had decided to take a swift and complete interest in her butler, who had returned with drinks, because she at least would not insult her because of her age. She had departed for the kitchen not long before. Her composure dropped the moment the door closed behind her, and what followed was thirty seconds of grabbing the nearest wine bottle and sparkling cider (both of which were buried among the large stash of unsorted ordered non-perishables set outside of the cabinet as though the attempt was to trip someone), asking the cook how long they had left (several minutes by his unhelpful estimate), and attempting to ignore a second, quieter crash from the main room. She returned to the dining room with an expression and posture that would leave one to infer she had simply strode into the kitchen and taken the two bottles from the counter immediately to her side, and discreetly poured the wine into the glasses of their elder guests and the cider into the other two.
Avaline took her filled glass in a fist. “What my parents do is not of concern.” She stated, half out of annoyance for their probing question related to a subject she saw no point in discussing, half because her parent’s occupations in no way allowed for the purchase of a house like this. They would wonder where a young girl had obtained her wealth, and that was not a lie she was presently in the mood to spin.
She wished to direct the conversation away from her parents, and as much as she would prefer to leave it to their honor to bring up their reason for coming, they seemed preoccupied with entirely unrelated topics. She would have to take it upon herself. She would also ignore the look she got from her butler as she began.
“Mr. and Ms. Voclain, why have you come unannounced to my house? I have come to Emerald City in pursuit of business opportunities and for some quiet so that I might work on achieving them. Both must be put on hold while you are here. I would like to hope that your issue is important, to have interrupted me from mine.”
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Post by Eve Voclain on Oct 1, 2016 21:53:01 GMT -7
"Whatever, still young enough to make what they're suggesting creepy," Eve rolled her eyes. "I get the feeling you don't want to be my very best friend anyway."
That comment provoked her mother into giving her another swift kick to her foot, a bit harder than the last one even, but Eve didn't particularly care. It was hard enough to make her wince a little, but if it meant getting out of her faster it was completely worth it. The whole situation was embarrassing on both sides, and she knew it would only get worse.
Avaline's response to his question made both her father and mother giggle a little. Her mother brought her hand to her mouth to suppress it a little, but her father made no such effort. They weren't laughing at her, or even laughing like she told a funny joke. It was more like the way people laugh at a toddler doing something adorable or when they're watching cat videos on the internet. She was trying so hard to be an adult, but all the two of them could see was a small child. Even Eve had her doubts that the little girl knew what she was talking about. There was no way any sane person would willingly work with a child even if they proved themselves. Unlike her parents, Eve didn't find the situation adorably amusing. Instead, she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows trying to gauge just how serious the girl was. The arrival of the drinks just strengthened this feeling among her parents.
"Well Avaline," her father started again. "If you're getting into business you should know just how important connections are. Everyone in this neighborhood could be a valuable resource, so it's important to get to know your neighbors and to be friends with them." He spoke slowly and clearly, like he was talking to a five year old. "See, I'm a lawyer, I've won a lot of pretty important cases in this city. My wife runs her own business, and even Eve graduated at the top of her class and is on her way to doing so again in college. Isn't that right?"
Eve just glared and flicked her glass, letting the loud ting echo through the room in place of an answer. Her parents' eyes lingered on her for a moment, clearly displeased, before turning their attention back to the (theoretical) head of house. She recognized the way he was talking. Showing off, yes, trying to be superior, yes, looking down on the girl, yes, all of these things were both true and apparent, but there was one thing that Eve recognized that most people probably wouldn't because of the many years she spent around them. He was annoyed at something, most likely he could tell she was hiding something and he wanted to find out what it was. Eve herself was somewhat curious about what she did too, but tactics like this just pissed her off. She gripped her glass, contemplating whether or not she should throw it in his face and storm out of here. It took all her self control to not do just that.
"So Avaline, what do you do? What kind of business are you looking to get into? We might be able to work out a good deal for both of us."
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Post by Avaline Ophilia on Oct 19, 2016 23:52:27 GMT -7
Based on this brief introduction and general impression, Avaline was keen to agree with Eve’s assessment of their potential friendship capacity. Still more so than her parents, however, as Eve did not insultingly giggle at her response. Avaline felt belittled. She felt like it was because she was a child and these living mannequins thought they were so much better than her, even though their money and ‘beauty’ was nothing but false guises of power. There was no true force behind their words, faces, or dollars. Nothing that couldn’t be toppled by little more than a snap of a finger by someone like her. They wouldn’t know what true power was until it had torn down their petty facades and left them for issues more worthy of its time. And they thought they had the right to come into her house, treat her like this, and expect perfect cordiality in return. Avaline’s gaze narrowed, and her eyebrow twitched.
“If you would like honesty, Mr. and Ms. Voclain, I do not see how it is any of your business. Nor can I see the reasoning behind your being here, and I certainly cannot agree with it. If you wished for my favor in your own work, you have done an awful job of giving me any reason to bother with help I’m in need of convincing to want. You have wasted my time and insulted me as a host. I know what connections I need, and I will make them on my own. I do not need your help, I do not need you to tell me what to do, and I most certainly do not need you treating me like a naive child. You are not my parents. Please do not pretend that you are.”
Just as Avaline finished her last word, the cook had come through the kitchen door with the appetizers. His face was one of someone left stunned, and for a moment it seemed like he was considering returning to the kitchen as quickly as one running from a live bomb. He looked quickly between the guests seated at the table, their host, and one final reluctant glance at the door behind him, tried to wipe the shock from his face, and paced in.
Tomatoes were in season right now. Someone had had the foresight to pick up cheese this morning, and had acquired a number of heirloom tomatoes as well on a whim. It was simple, but the cook had seen the opportunity and the olive oil and seasonings required. Each plate had two thick slices of tomatoes set atop two equally thick slices of mozzarella cheese, doused with oil and topped with fresh spices. He set one in front of every person at the table. With a stiff half-bow, he made haste back to the kitchen.
It had taken the full of her willpower to remain sitting as she spoke, but by the end, she was situated at the edge of her seat. Her arms were crossed, her were shoulders tight, and her gaze was irritably locked on Mr. Voclain. They had one chance remaining to rectify this. Her eyes said to chose his words carefully.
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Post by Eve Voclain on Oct 27, 2016 19:57:47 GMT -7
Eve's father sat back in his chair with his arms folded, the calm smile and slight smirk remaining on his face. Her mother shook her head slightly, once again a small smile still remaining on her face. It was the kind of reaction Eve got when she threw tantrums when she was like four years old. She half expected her mother to say 'what are we going to do with you.' They were likely both somewhat insulted, and her father was almost certainly irritated that there was something he didn't know, but they were dealing with a child. It was difficult for them to get too angry at a child because they fully expected them to be rude and to not understand the world. If they were speaking to an adult she fully expected their reactions to be different.
Whether or not they were being genuine in their offer to help her out was difficult for Eve to read, but if she had to guess she would guess that they did genuinely want to help, or at least that her mother did. Her mother worked with children often and loved being around them. Her father didn't have the same interest, but he was well aware of his wife's affection for them and liked to make her happy. Being rebuffed like this was likely frustrating for them, but Eve acted about the same way for most of her life. It made watching the scene here almost physically painful for her.
"Well you see," Eve's father started up again. "It's important to get to know your neighbors. They're going to be the people you're going to be around whether you like it or not, so you might as well be friendly. After all, they can be either your best friends or your greatest enemies," there was an almost invisible edge to his words, but despite that there was nothing threatening about his tone. "So, we come to meet all the new neighbors and you should too. Getting to know people is never a waste of time you know. You never know when even a small connection might save you."
Eve tore into the tomato appetizer like a wild cat ripping apart a carcass. Her chewing was slow, deliberate, and hard enough that it hurt her teeth a little. She had a white knuckle grip on the drink from earlier, trying to do anything possible to occupy her hands. If these people were anyone else she would have punched them by now, but there was no way she could do that to her parents. It was...somehow different in a way she didn't understand and couldn't quite explain.
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