knightingly | (no subject)

[ As a child, she split her time between the city and her father's home in rural upstate New York (seen and heard from only when necessary). But holidays were always spent in the city; years later, as an adult, she finds that the city she remembers from the Christmases of her childhood is still much the same: it was a mad dash to the holidays, and on the day before and on the day of the city slowed to the point of being still. This was the case everywhere, except for the pubs and bars, which would be filled to their brim until New Year's Day.

These places were normally an escape for people who had no desire to confront their real lives, but such needs were tenfold around the holidays it seemed. When she was younger she thought it a bit sad, but these days she doesn't think much of it at all.

It is Christmas Eve, the music is louder than usual and the people occupying the club force themselves to be more lively in turn. Artoria weaves them through crowds of drunk, jolly, and downtrodden clubgoers, cutting off attempts at conversation with polite smiles and curt nods. The regulars knew her well despite her attempts to leave this aspect of her family's "business" in the hands of her associates– they made fun of her often for humoring every hello, conversation and request. She likely would have on this night as well, if she was not already entertaining company.

A gloved hand just barely presses against the small of Akeha's back as she guides them through the bar, passed the VIP section, and deep into the section of the club restricted only for fellow associates. She fumbles some with the key to the office, perhaps far too aware of the warm presence hovering over her shoulder.

The door opens finally, revealing dark wood, hues of blue and silver, and a family crest and coat of arms on the wall behind the imposing desk at the end of the room. There is mistletoe hanging above the door frame, and a small pile of mismatched presents on her desk– gifts from patrons, associates, and residents of the portion of the city her family controlled.

She holds the door and lets Akeha step in first before she closes it– ever the gentleman. ]

Are you sure this is how you'd like to spend your Christmas eve?

[ She speaks, finally. She has been mulling on the question for quite some time– when something was on her mind she could not speak of anything else, even if she was confronted with another situation that required a casual hello or something far more urgent; and if she was not prepared to speak what was on her mind she opted to say nothing at all.

Artoria lights the fireplace along the wall, gas and wood coming together to birth a crackling flame in little time. The warmth seeps across the carpet and into the rest of the room, and she slips off the jacket of her suit. ]