Democracy doll
Beautiful women, stuffy air, and a bunch of morally ambiguous rats in human skin—nothing Vi hated more than high class events like this. And yet, here she was, on the opening eve of that stupid Progress conference (or whatever) with little more than wine to quell the vile taste of venomous compliments. She'd taken refuge near the walls of the room, allowing Mylo to act out the role of her sister's chaperone. It was better for them to be apart in events, to make sure Powder's brilliance wouldn't be overshadowed by the rumors circling Vi.
She grimaced as her suit snagged against her wrists with every move. The corset underneath, binding her chest flat against her body, dug into her skin no matter how she tried to shrug off the discomfort of the confining garment. It jabbed at her sides, a painful reminder of the part she’s here to play today; a puppet, placed high for a shallow attempt at equality. Their family carried little weight in high society, but it didn't need to—their real value came from the respect of the common people, and that's all the Council cared about.
She attempted to keep a straight face in front of the crowd that had slowly formed around her, exchanging their greetings and engaging in uninteresting smalltalk with her. Vi could only smile awkwardly as they flocked around her, eyeing her up like they were deciding if he's an enemy or an ally—Especially the posh princesses and their well-dressed brothers.
“—and here I thought the poor man knew what he was getting into.” They erupted in light laughter around her whilst their brothers held nervous, twitchy smiles. Vi didn't doubt for a second that one day, she would be one of them, staring daggers at any womanizer attempting to get close to her sister.
“Men, am I right?” She grinned, giving her glass an absentminded swirl, as if to remind herself it was there. “They’re all blind to women, thinking they'll swoon and sigh for pretty words and a few gifts.”
“And chicken out when parents and brothers get involved!” The women burst out laughing like a cacophony of hyenas, and Vi barked out a genuine chuckle in return, finding her lost confidence within their amused expressions.
“I have to wonder what fool dared to run out on someone like you.” She shot her signature heartthrob of a smirk, earning a few lovestruck gazes in the process. "As they say, a woman's ire is a bottomless pit."
“Does sir Vanderson have any relevant hobbies, other than his rather unusual interests regarding women?” One of the accompanying men—who was it again? Gayle? Gary? She couldn't recall—spoke up with a curled lip, eyeing Vi like she was some uncouth filth upon his shiny new boots. The title, a clear jab at her side; the damn corset on her chest.
“Uh, your sister, maybe?” Vi bit back with as much modicum as possible on her face, gently brushing aside stray flecks of red hair from her forehead. Her hand danced around her left cheek, careful not to brush against her skin.
“You… rabble mouthed low class—!” His palm balled up to a fist as his veins popped on his face.
“Oh, please—do you really want to be the reason for another war?” Vi taunted, feeding the man’s growing rage with a nonchalant glance as his sister was fearfully clutching to his coat, and, probably, whispering for him to stop.
“It’s just a joke.” Vi settled her half-empty glass on the empty tray of the brave servant passing by, giving the man a few firm pats on the shoulder for his courage. “Don’t take everything so personally. Tell you what; how about you all go about your evening, and I go on with mine—not in the company of annoying brothers.” She ended on another sneaky wink.
The two glared at each other as the crowd dispersed around them into a ring of onlookers, tensions rising and whispers passing from mouth to mouth—as if she couldn't hear them.
The sole heir—Holstein? here?—no way they would!
“Vi!”
A splash of blue amidst the crowd unwound the tension in her shoulders as she caught Powder, mid-tackle, and gently raised her back to her feet. The gesture, though genuine and warm, left Vi baffled and a little distraught even as Mylo dragged behind her, dressed in a tan-brown suit that complimented his slim build.
“Vi! You won't believe this!” She jittered from excitement, the hem of her yellow dress trembling from her slight hops. “I’ve already found potential investors! It's only the first day, and—”
Vi shushed her with a stern look.
Without even acknowledging the scowling Holstein heir, still fuming in front of her nor the slowly dispersing crowd murmuring disappointedly, she rolled her neck back up to Mylo. “Care to explain?”
Mylo stared at her as if she'd just accused him of murder. “I- how is it my fault?”
“You're her chaperone and I'm a democracy doll—Of course it's your fault if some creep got to her.”
“It's not my fault she's slippery!”
Vi pointed at her stern face, eyebrows knitted together on her face as her lips were pressed thin against each other.
Mylo staggered to find anything to say, but Vi kept pointing to her face every time he tried to open his mouth.
“Vi?” Powder’s grip on Vi’s arm softened as she noticed the sourness on her sister’s freckled face.
“Powder—We’ll talk later. For the rest of the conference, you're not going anywhere or meeting anyone without me present. Understood?”
The smug looking Holstein before her was about to open his big fat mouth, but Vi, sensing his intentions, spoke first with the most elegant manner she's managed all night. “You—I’ll be sure to file a formal complaint with the Holstein household for your insults. With this many witnesses, I'm sure it was worth it.”
The only satisfaction she ever got out of these events was getting the chance to speak that overly long and thinly veiled threat.
“Now, if you'll excuse us.”