High infidelity

Being the person who would inherit rulership over all of Ashmoor came with both pros and cons. The job itself, eventually, was not as glamorous as it might seem. Yes, it came with fame and riches, but also with tough decisions, boring meetings and little privacy. The question whether or not it was something she wanted had never been relevant, but if someone were to ask her she was quite sure the answer would be affirmative. She felt the job suited her quite well, whether that was by nature or nurture she wasn't sure. But no matter the reason why, she liked being needed, being important.

And besides, it did have its perks. She absolutely loved the social activities that came with it, from balls to watching the races to gallery openings. Alison had been looking forward to it all week, her favourite pastime combined with the favourite part of her duties. A new gallery was the perfect addition to the Upper Ring, showcasing talent from all around... the Upper Ring, mostly. After all, those were often the people that were able to explore their talents.

"Oh, don't flatter me!" she laughed in response to a friend who had just told her that her art should be hanging in the new gallery. It was only a semi-humble reply, really, as the idea had intrigued her before; she just wasn't sure if she wanted her real name stuck underneath yet. Not that she desperately wanted to remain anonymous, but the thought of being critiqued didn't seem too appealing. "If you will excuse me, I am just going to take a quick look around." She softly put her hand on her friend's arm for a moment as a way to say goodbye, a cheerful smile on her face. If it were any other opening she would have preferred to stay and chat, but this time she was actually more interested in the reason why they were all here.

She took her time strolling towards the emptier rooms, carefully taking in the different paintings. Lately they all seemed to become more rough, not as bound to the rules of perfection and realism as when she was a child. She did like that development, she thought, even though it did take some getting used to. The paintings resembled her quick studies more than what she considered finished pieces, but they also encompassed a certain movement and emotion that was hard to find in the portraits that hung in the Winter home.

As she rounded a corner, a particular emotional piece caught her eye. It was very dark, and she wondered what the person who painted it had thought about during the process. She took a moment to take it in, until it kind of started to make her feel depressed and she turned around. It was only then she saw the dark shape of Vivienne Howard sitting on a bench right across from the painting, looking as though she had just jumped out of it. As if the whole thing wasn't depressing enough. Alison contemplated acting like she hadn't seen the girl for a quick second, but that would just be unbelievable at this point. "Howard." she thus started, "How fitting to find you here." Her voice wasn't snarky or anything; she was actually quite proud of herself for sounding so neutral towards someone she disliked so much.

Outfit

In essence, Alison was quite open-minded. Not everyone was the same and that was perfectly fine. Otherwise the world would get too boring anyway. She therefore didn’t mind Faolan’s quiet nature, or how prissy Lottie could sometimes be. She also didn’t mind how gloomy and lonesome Howard could be.

What she did mind was that awfully stuck up, arrogant personality of hers.

Honestly, there was rude and then there was Vivienne Howard. She didn’t seem to give a care about anyone that wasn’t herself and didn’t even try to hide it. Alison couldn’t imagine what that must be like, such a bleak and lonely existence when it was so easily avoided. She would have loved to invite her into her circle of friends, to take her under her wing. But it had been clear from the very beginning that that was not something Howard wanted.

”No one here expects you to smile, Howard.” She wondered whether she was even capable of smiling. Maybe those muscles in her face had moved so little that they were frozen in place. If only that could prevent the nasty words that so often escaped her mouth. Even now, despite the fact that the younger woman was looking elsewhere she kept talking to her, inviting exactly the response that she seemed so adamant at preventing. ”Am I not talking to someone?” the blonde asked in return, one thick eyebrow slightly raised. She could do this all day if she wanted to. As long as Vivienne would play nice she had nothing against the girl.

In other words, it would probably be a very short conversation.

Outfit

Of course, high society wasn't everything. For more introverted people it was probably awful that they were always expected to be present and look happy to be there even when they weren't. For people like her, the expectations that were put onto her were sometimes hard to deal with, the way she had to keep her high spirited nature in check in order to be more graceful and ladylike. She had gotten used to it, though, had learned to play the game and even enjoyed it now. In essence, she had become that charming, graceful young lady throughout the years, with only sporadic outbursts of enthusiasm. And it did her well.

She thought that it might be good for Vivienne as well. Wouldn't it be better for her, not to have that permanent frown on her face? Unfortunately she was so damn stubborn, so set in her ways of hating the world around her and everyone in it. It was clear by the words that sounded from her mouth now, so arrogantly putting herself above others. As if everyone needed to pass a test to see if they were intelligent enough to be allowed to converse with Vivienne Howard; no room for empty assumptions and useless questions. A small, amused look appeared on the blonde's face. "You know, Howard, life is about more than proving you're the best. Don't you think it takes up so much of your energy, judging others all day long?" Her voice was low and knowing as she looked at the dark-haired girl. "It would do your pretty face good if you stopped frowning every once in a while." Although, on the other hand, she couldn't quite picture her smiling; that just felt wrong. But maybe she could start by relaxing it every now and then.

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Alison could really do this all day. She wasn't trying to annoy her or win any argument they might have, just having a little chat. One of many she would have that day. So she really didn't care if Vivienne thought that she was annoying or shallow, that she was somehow losing; it wasn't a competition. She was having a good time and she was not too sure that the same could be said for the pale girl, although she did say that judging others was amusing for her. "Is it?" she hummed, her head slightly tilted. She wanted that for her, to be amused, but it didn't really seem like she was.

She met her eyes when she was finally blessed enough to be looked at. Truth be told, there was some amusement to be found in her gaze. Apparently, for the first time that day she had said something that was interesting enough to be spoken about. Who would have thought it would have been about Vivienne's looks. "That's what is interesting to you? My opinion on how you look?" Her eyes narrowed slightly as she searched for any sort of ridicule or sarcasm in her eyes.

But her gaze was gone already as it went up and down the blonde's stature. The two of them looked quite contrasting, opposites even. Other than she had expected of Howard, she did care about other people's opinions on her looks. She always tried hard to look good for everyone, even though realistically that was quite impossible. So the brunette's taunting remark really shouldn't come as a surprise, but it did make her slightly uncomfortable. Little fruit tart. Truly, what a nasty person she was. But she wouldn't allow her to get the best of her, so even though the hurt flashed across her eyes for just a moment, a perfectly amused smile stayed plastered on her face. Well. I am glad my appearance has made you finally smile." she said, her low voice silky smooth. "You know you are welcome to come and borrow any of my dresses whenever you please." She knew that her acting blissfully unaware would only make her think lower of her, but she didn't care. She would not have the satisfaction of insulting her.

Outfit

The snide remarks she could handle. Alison was raised in a certain way, Vivienne in another; that was fine. What the dark-haired girl failed to see was that every dress, every look and smile and well-placed comment had its function. Alison wanted people to like her, that much was true, but there was more to it. She had a goal in life, one that was set in stone from the moment she was born. A well-liked heiress meant, one day, a well-liked and respected leader. And if Howard failed to understand that then maybe she wasn’t as bright as she thought. Booksmart, sure. But there was more to life.

So the comments were the comments. Even after the friendly nickname she could take a breath and stay calm, not letting herself be provoked. But that wasn’t enough, was it? Somewhere along the way it seemed like she had done the provoking. A change had happened; where the Howard spawn had been uninterested and bored in the beginning, she was now fully focused on the conversation. On her. Step by step the distance between them was closed and Alison’s eyes seemed to become larger with each one. Her breathing became slightly heavier as her gaze stayed locked with the other’s. Instinctively, she brought her hand up to twist the necklace resting on her collarbone, only to find out she wasn’t wearing one that day; brushing against exposed skin instead.

She felt threatened. Not that she would ever admit it, but the look on her face said enough. ”I—“ she started, but Vivienne went on until she reached a certain word. No, name. A shiver ran down Alison’s spine at the mention of it, her stomach feeling as though it dropped to the floor. Did she—? No, she couldn’t. Surely there was no way. Alison dropped her hand as she took the final step, once again exposing herself. She was vulnerable. Vivienne had her right under her thumb.

The way she’d said it. Such a sweet word filled with such loathing. But it wasn’t just loathing. It was amusement and annoyance and provocation. So different than when she heard it last. Her mouth was opened slightly as she looked at her, her cheeks a healthy blush. It was silent for a while before she spoke. ”I despise you.” she said, her voice soft and hoarse.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She hated her. She hated her. Her narcissistic nature, her superiority complex. Always had to be better than everyone else, had to have the last word. So uninterested in others. So adamant to let Alison know of her dominance.

She tried to look away. Truly. She could even walk away if she wanted to. But then the moment would be gone and the dark-haired girl's attention would be focused on dark paintings again. She couldn’t let that happen. She wanted her attention on her. Talk more about putting on her dresses. She could just imagine Vivienne in her room, slipping out of her dark ensemble, the contours of her body visible as she turned around—

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Alison was aware of the fact that she had gotten herself into a very difficult situation. Still, the part that couldn’t look away won. Vivienne had won.

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A feeling of slight panic overtook her. The image had crossed her mind for no longer than a second, but it was long enough to engulf every single clear thought going through her head. She had never felt this way before, not even with Faolan for whom her affection was growing each day. So why--? She didn't have the chance to figure out why. As her palms were feeling sweaty and her heartbeat was rising, she had one clear thought: She needed to get away from here. She didn't want to, but she should.

As soon as the decision crossed her mind, however, Vivienne made it impossible for her to leave. Her voice sounded, cold and disapproving, and it made her freeze in place. Is there truly that little going on in that head of yours? Alison's eyes grew big, the corners of her mouth dropping in a frown. She had disappointed her, somehow, and it made her feel awful. Just a minute ago she had brushed off her snide remarks, now it hurt her to her core. Not the fact that she called her dumb, again, no; it was the fact that Howard was so displeased in her. Was there nothing she could do to win her approval?

Why did she care? WHY did she care? She hated her with a passion and had done so for as long as she had known the girl. She was probably just tired. Or maybe some fresh air would fix this mess that was going on in her head. If she would just get away--

But Vivienne started walking towards her and there was nothing she could do but take a step backwards. And another, and another. She hadn't realised how close she was to the wall until she was pushed against it, the cold touch of the girl's hand on her shoulder all she could feel. It felt like electric pulses were pushed into her bloodstream from her shoulder, sending the butterflies in her stomach into a frenzy and the thoughts in her head into a thunderstorm.

It was entirely too much. She didn't even hear the brunette's words at first, just watched as her soft lips moved to form each syllable. How they opened and closed on the word 'time', plush as they collided and shaped on the m. She wanted to feel just how soft they were and almost, almost tilted her head forward. But Vivienne continued and it forced Alison to look up into her eyes, once more seeing the disapproval in them.

She opened her mouth to -- to say what, exactly? -- but Vivienne's hand softly brushed against her cheek and ear as she tucked a strand of hair behind it. This is it. she thought. She's going to kiss me. She knew what kissing was, now, and the thought of it made her cheeks a bright crimson red. She shouldn't want it after those awful words. Hell, she shouldn't want it at all! Why was she wanting it? She didn't know, only knew that she desperately, desperately did.

It was no surprise, then, that it felt like her heart stopped when those final words came out of her mouth. Looked better as a brunette. There had already been a seed of insecurity there and it was now watered, growing like a flower in the sun. But there was something else, too: the smallest possibility that there was a version of herself that Vivienne would even somewhat like.

And then she walked away.

She walked away and just left her there. Left her with all those feelings and thoughts and insecurities, wobbling on her knees as she fought to keep in the tears, her hand clumping the strand of hair that Vivienne had looked at. She counted to thirty, then thirty more, anything to make sure that she was gone. Everything had shifted and she now had a power over her that scared her to the point where she never wanted to see her again.

She waited thirty more seconds and then looked for Nyx to take her home.

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