Post by Blubber-Bun on Nov 15, 2018 15:12:47 GMT -6
Manual
Social events provide a perfect platform with which to kiss up to the nearest dignitary, but a soiree - especially one designated to celebrate the recent election - is better utilized as a broking house by someone on equal podium. Such deals are even sweeter when one’s conversation partner isn’t aware that a deal had been made in the first place.
Manual did not care for interesting people; he cared for his interest in them, for in each connection, every conversation, there was a careful transaction of knowledge.
That said, some people still proved an incredible bore. Ears angled in the illusion of focus, he nodded idly to his blabbering companion, only interjecting with neutral remarks whilst they prattled their business talk. Agriculture, specifically. The least thrilling of topics.
His eyes strayed, examining the marble room and the congregation that filled it. He’d made his rounds, had spoken to his fellow councilors and bidded them with a ‘pleasure to be working with you’. He had small-talked the clerics (and prompted, quietly, on the state of their dear Divine), had even chaffed a few fresh-faced Guardians and indeed, indulged estate-owners on the business of their accursed agriculture.
But there was one individual he hadn’t spoken to. A glimpse of a blue ruff, bobbing by the appetizer table, alerted Manual to the presence of the man he needed.
“Excuse me for a moment?”
He did not wait to be properly excused, simply turning on his heels and with the definitive clack of his prosthetic against mirror-clear floor, approached the cerulean pegasus. He was young, younger than any council member, and Manual had to scoff at the irony that an uncredentialed foreigner had risen the ranks with more ease and abruptness than any Talori-born electee. Derision was kept clear from his face, however, and he received the empress’s husband in a pleasant white smile.
“Comparis Faris,” he greeted. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” With a simple flourish of silver teke, he gestured to himself. “Manual. I work for the council.”
Manual did not care for interesting people; he cared for his interest in them, for in each connection, every conversation, there was a careful transaction of knowledge.
That said, some people still proved an incredible bore. Ears angled in the illusion of focus, he nodded idly to his blabbering companion, only interjecting with neutral remarks whilst they prattled their business talk. Agriculture, specifically. The least thrilling of topics.
His eyes strayed, examining the marble room and the congregation that filled it. He’d made his rounds, had spoken to his fellow councilors and bidded them with a ‘pleasure to be working with you’. He had small-talked the clerics (and prompted, quietly, on the state of their dear Divine), had even chaffed a few fresh-faced Guardians and indeed, indulged estate-owners on the business of their accursed agriculture.
But there was one individual he hadn’t spoken to. A glimpse of a blue ruff, bobbing by the appetizer table, alerted Manual to the presence of the man he needed.
“Excuse me for a moment?”
He did not wait to be properly excused, simply turning on his heels and with the definitive clack of his prosthetic against mirror-clear floor, approached the cerulean pegasus. He was young, younger than any council member, and Manual had to scoff at the irony that an uncredentialed foreigner had risen the ranks with more ease and abruptness than any Talori-born electee. Derision was kept clear from his face, however, and he received the empress’s husband in a pleasant white smile.
“Comparis Faris,” he greeted. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” With a simple flourish of silver teke, he gestured to himself. “Manual. I work for the council.”
Manual - Talori - Council Member
P 1 | WC 328
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