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[sub][color=d9910b]C A S T L E   D I N N I N G   H A L L  |  E V E N I N G[/color][/sub]
[sub][color=gray]I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Hafiz, Anastasia [@princess] ,  Kira [@Potter] , Rohit [@Helo] 
M e n t i o n s :
Farim [@Lava Alckon]
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Nahir’s smile remained serene, her eyes sweeping the crowd with idle grace. She didn’t so much as glance at her uncle when she leaned in, her voice barely above a breath. There was no fear of her own body betraying her tonight, but that could not be said for Kira’s smile. Too warm. Too open.

[color=904342]“She’s pleasant enough,”[/color] she murmured, as if discussing the fabric swatched for a new dress. [color=904342]“A charming distraction for the summer. But really, Uncle—when I’m finished, you’re welcome to her.”[/color] 

She took a delicate sip of her wine, as if offering him leftovers were the most natural thing in the world. 

A beat passed before she added, still soft, still sweet. 

[color=904342]“You’ve always known how to make second place look so distinguished. I’m sure this will be no exception.”[/color] 

Then, as if she’d merely complimented the win, she turned her attention elsewhere, the picture of composed indifference. 

[color=904342]“You are too kind, Anastasia.”[/color] Nahir offered a gracious nod, as if stepping down from the clouds just long enough to entertain a compliment. [color=904342]“I am sorry I missed your charity, it seems I missed quite the triumph.”[/color] 

And then the girl went on. Charity. Goodwill. Walking amongst the poor with her golden heart bared for all to see. 

Nahir smiled and said nothing. Personally distributing aid had always struck her as a convenient headline at best and patronizing at worst. The poor needed legislation, protection, reform. Not parties. Not handouts wrapped in silken bows. But she held her tongue. Princess Anastasia was not in a position to enact such change, but she could inspire it. Drive change forward. Perhaps Farim had been right about her. 

Then, of course, came Rohit. 

Ah, Rohit. He was pretty, she’d give him that. Beautiful, even. It almost made up for the things that left his mouth. 

Nahir didn’t turn toward him, instead looked past him to the little commotion by the middle of the room as she took another sip of wine, her lashes lowering ever so slightly. Shock? Fear. Resentment. Recognition. Nahir made a mental note to speak with the red-haired woman. 

[color=904342]“A party for the poor,”[/color] she echoed, eyes back to the table and its guests. [color=904342]“What a… lovely idea.”[/color] 




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