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Interactions: [@heartfillia] crystal, [@prosaic] kieran
Mentions: [@13org] mayet
Location: Pancake Central

Priscilla does not push shallow faith in her brother's ability to love. 

Priscilla has admired true love in its most beautiful forms. The sonnets, every longing and grateful poem, and the recountings of great love stories from elders. And she knows her brother--honest and loyal and deserving of love. A home without it must return some karma, at least for one of them. She's bad, and possibly embarrassing, but it was not for wanting her brother to embrace happiness in honesty, have unbashful love without fear, and live fully for the both of them.

That interaction between the two of them does not escape her.

Nothing does.

It was something her parents weren't capable of.[color=f6989d][b]"What? My parents did not reserve a moment to acquire all attention for any of their frivolous remarks. There must have been the most dramatic of happenings to finally overshadow them," [/b][/color]she mused. Evil flashed through her eyes. Subtle, controlled evil that granted her happiness from the greatest of powers: bitterness. 

Crystal now caters to whimsical strings of words once again, taking her to this woman from Alidasht just because Priscilla expressed some longing for it! Her kindness was good to have-- in a friend and in a networking connection. Priscilla let Crystal lead since this was a rare opportunity that she's witnessed her friend take charge in her presence. She stood behind at first-- letting the other two hover awkwardly around the stranger before she whipped her fan open to gently fan herself under the morning sun.
[b][color=f6989d]
"I've seen tigers illustrated before but the real sight certainly adds much more,[/color]" [/b]she hits Kieran's back to make him step forward instead of cowering behind her in front of a guest of their dear city. Priscilla's piercing stare at Mayet is just as intense as a tiger's-- hopefully, she did not take offense. This is just how Priscilla always looked.[color=f6989d][b] "We thought we would approach you since this park has been reserved for a social occasion. I am Priscilla-Rue Edwards and these are my dear friends who will politely introduce themselves. And-"[/b][/color]

There is a stir. There is drama- and so Priscilla must go look. 

And look she did.

Look who it was, Duke Lorenzo causing problems once more. [color=f6989d][b]"The Duke of Veirmont always seems to demand decorum where he possesses none, and only a penchant for attracting the worst of energies,"[/b][/color] she scorns. 

The table flips-- and Priscilla is amongst those who gasp in the clatter. 
[b][color=f6989d]
"And madness ensues."[/b][/color]

It did.
[b][color=f6989d]
"What is your name? I can only assume that you are from Alidasht, and I know many names of those who come to visit my city from there and unfortunately no names to connect them to. I missed any entrance last night due to an unfortunate physical ailment"[/color][/b] What? Just because she was not royal did not mean Priscilla did not sit back and see what happened in Sorian like a passive unknowing bystander.

If she were running the event, the commotion would never come to the point of a knife against someone's neck. She would put her foot down-- but she hated dealing with the Vikenas more than anything. It was saying something when the mega-bitch of Caesonia's high society got tired of dealing with Duke Lorenzo-- mostly due to her mother's hatred of him. Priscilla would never hear the end of it if she got involved.

She did spy a tear falling down Charlotte's cheek-- in a way where someone crying tries to not recognize such. Pitiful, really. Unfortunate timing diverged their paths, but Priscilla did not hold any contempt for that girl one bit. She never could, but for her own sake, she had to stand back with a frown behind her fan.
[i]
"Do not try and run away from me Lady Priscilla!"[/i]

If she was the mega-bitch of high society, Lady Harlow was a coined wannabe in Sorian. [[color=f6989d]b]"Oh, [i]what[/i] is it now?"[/b][/color]
[i]
"You spilled this syrup on my dress in the commotion and dare run away! You owe me a replacement right this moment!" [/i]

Priscilla sighed, a head-to-toe glance in contempt prefaced the snap that soured and leaped off her tongue. There was a threatening dirt-sprinkled waffle and napkin on a plate in the lady's hand that seemed ready to be thrown though. [b]"Honestly, Lady Harlow, I could have eight replacements tailored for you without a dent in my own p[color=f6989d]ocket that would actually compliment your appearance, but I will not do that. Ask my brother and the rest of your audience for this foolish accusation, I was here the entire time!"[/b][/color]