#17: “We’re both at the Empress’s court and holy crap am I bored.”
Court was a necessity. A dull, pedantic necessity with too many stuck-up nobles desperately trying to kiss ass. Which, Cruz supposed, was the reason they were here as well, though their brand of brown-nosing involved more creative endeavors that thusly kept them out of the company of the less entertaining sorts. A play this time, to entertain the Empress, or some nonsense(it was an ego boost to be in charge of a group effort).
But they couldn’t avoid tea forever; “locked in the throes of creative passion” only worked as an excuse so many times. But God, they thought they might disintegrate if they had to listen to one more piece of decades-old, irrelevant gossip, they might rip their remaining ear off and throw it in the Stolen River.
Having just escaped one such encounter, Cruz did their best to drift in a casual way towards one of the emptier sets of armchairs, skirts partially gathered in one hand to avoid walking over them with their habitually long strides. They cut a conflicting figure – frills and black lace dominated their outfit, but on such a tall, broad-set person, the corset read more like body armor, the crimson skirts like a battle flag.
Cruz brushed past a gentleman in a ratskin suit – wait a minute, ratskin? Here? In Court? Was this man serious? Cruz looked into the man’s face with a look that was equal parts derisive and impressed, leaning towards the former as they noted the certain lack the soulless tended to have in their eyes.
They’d been meaning to apologize from the get-go, but they paused for just a half-beat longer than they should have before stepping back. “My apologies.”