you don't talk to no one, don't you look at nothin'

[verbrannt]

No one's gonna love you
No one's gonna touch you
No one's gonna look at you the way that I do
No one's gonna save you
Use you up and break you
I'm the one you pray to every night 'cause you're mine

Comments

soiree, of course

[entwisted]

Not all powerful wizards of the Dwendalian Empire are members of the Cerberus Assembly. Yennefer of Vengerberg is one of those exceptions, her presence especially notable for her typical reclusiveness. Her chafing at the Assembly's authority had been long enough ago that the majority of those she'd disliked most are now dead. Though it isn't immediately obvious, as her ears are more or less the typical round human shape, Yennefer has elf blood, which is at least part of the reason she is able to look like this after more than a century of life.

She dresses to her usual preference of sleek and intimidating in a floor-length gown in her typical colors (or lack thereof), the skirt a shimmering black fabric that clings to her shape and the top a bodice of slashed black and white velvet with capped sleeves, though very little of her arms are actually visible with the black silk gloves she wears that climb well above her elbow. A capelet of smooth black wolf's fur covers her shoulders. But the most luxurious thing she wears by far is her arcane focus, the diamond-studded shar-shaped choker at her neck, framed by the capelet and the square neckline of her bodice, though she is absent any other jewelry but the simple silver studs in her ears. Her hair is loose, glossy jet-black waves brushed away from her face to tumble over her shoulders. Her mask--ironically--is also made of dark feathers, but it and the smoky makeup around her eyes serve to bring out their striking violet color.

Despite--or perhaps in part because--she tends to keep to her own business, Yennefer could be considered a bit of a loose cannon, and especially worth keeping an eye on if she's bothering to appear at a party like this. The assumption that she must be here for a reason is, of course, a correct one.

Her gaze flickers to Astrid at her approach, neither interested nor dismissive. She accepts the drink with a hum, holding it delicately between two fingers without raising it to drink. No obligatory politeness here. "How courteous. And here I thought you were going to suggest that one of us should change." Her painted lips curl up at one corner with amusement.

[verbrannt]

Yennefer's reputation undoubtedly precedes her; that she's so openly attending is notable in and of itself. Approaching her, therefore, is nearly as good as announcing that Astrid has ulterior motives, but there's no getting around that point. What matters now is ensure that she can craft a clever enough puzzle about herself to prevent Yennefer from seeing through her entirely. It is a game they might both enjoy, to a point.

She sips delicately from her own glass, hands neatly manicured but unadorned other than the rings.

"Hardly," Astrid responds, tongue faintly tracing her own lips. "Why should one woman diminish herself at the request of another, or anyone? Especially when she clearly understands the meaning of taste."