[ P ] a momentary lapse

She just needs a break. That's what she's told herself, anyway. There are plenty of perks about living in the bubble of her parents' reputation, but as she gets older, Ludivine finds that it gets so very boring to constantly be treated like glass. Worse than glass, actually; everyone looks at her like she's a weapon, like they're afraid of her, keeping a wide berth. And she doesn't have friends—she has followers. They don't love her. They worship her. Most of the time, she adores the attention.

But sometimes, she wants to exist without the shadow of her lineage.

So she'd shirked her brother and her minions both, and now she's sitting in a bar in Rionna, watching wolves come and go with astute curiosity. It's nice to be ignored for once—for the most part, anyway. At least here, she knows the stares are because she's young and pretty, not because of her last name. Ludivine doesn't entertain any of the lingering gazes though; she preens under the attention like an ice queen, her cool confidence and the sharp glare she gives any man who steps closer enough to keep most of them at bay.

One man dares to try anyway, sidling up beside her and asking if he can buy her another drink. Her head turns with slow purpose, her umber gaze flicking down his frame with an unimpressed look. "No," she dismisses him flatly, staring at the stranger without blinking until he finally breaks under her scrutinity and skulks away. Snorting, Ludivine takes another sip of her drink, one of her nails tapping idly on the tabletop as she returns to people-watching and debating what she wants to do with the rest of her evening.

table by koi

He's seated at the bar, minding his own business for once. Denya is killing time, waiting for the next meeting to start to handle whatever bullshit is attempting to unravel. When his father handed him the family mantle, leaving him at the head of an empire, he hadn't anticipated how much work it took. Sure his father had diligently groomed him to take over, made sure he had ever bit of knowledge he possible could but it still didn't compare to the real thing. Alone, he's been managing, doing his best to make it appear that he's not drowning.

No.

The resounding rejection pulls him from his thoughts. Beside him is a woman he doesn't know and with just a look, she sends a lesser man running. A smirk lifts one corner of his mouth. His mother always scolded him for the expression, claiming he looked far too much like his father; arrogance oozing too much from one so young.

"Wise choice." He comments idly, taking a sip of his own drink before he turns to look at the woman seated at the bar beside him. She's turned to the patrons, watching them with veiled interest, as if their actions might amuse her. People watching is an excellent pastime. It also tells you a lot about someone, seeing first hand how they behave when they don't believe anyone is watching just them.

Ever a gentleman, Denya doesn't lean towards her, he doesn't crowd her space. He sits in his own chair, leaning comfortably against the bar top with only his head turned towards her when he speaks. Otherwise he goes back to his own drink, knowing he probably only has enough time to finish this drink before he needed to leave. But for a beautiful woman, he always made time.

"speech"

code // art

"Wise choice." Her head tips, the corner of one orange eye sliding towards the wolf at her side she's ignored up until now. He hadn't said anything when he arrived—had hasn't even looked at her, and Ludivine isn't in the habit of begging for attention, so she's been perfectly content to mind her own business. Until he butts in, as though she'd been looking for guidance. She glances at the smirk curled across the corner of his lip, and then up to the deep-set violet eye perusing her.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion," she states coolly, but she pivots slightly on her hip all the same, partially facing him whilst refusing to turn her back to the room. Unlike the man beside her, Ludivine doesn't have the luxury of putting her back to a crowd—that was one of the first things she ever learned. That as a female, she's vulnerable, simply for existing.

Her eyes flick towards the wolf she'd dismissed, who's found some other girl to bother. "You know him?" Ludivine asks with a quirk of her brow, deciding to entertain the stranger at the bar, if only for curiosity's sake. If only she knew the complete irony of who she's talking to.

table by koi

Her response to him is just as frigid as it was to the man offering her a drink. Amusement lifts the corner of his mouth higher. Broad shoulders lift in a small shrug. Whether she asked or not is irrelevant now, his comment served its purpose. He has her attention. Her words might be a form of rejection, but her hips still twist in his direction, angling herself towards him without turning her back on the crowd. A smart woman.

You know him? A dark brow lifts in his direction as she inquires more. Denya shakes his head. "I don't need to." So sure of himself. "His type is all the same. Boring. Insignificant." Mismatched eyes slant in her direction.

Leaning his weight onto the hip furthest from her, he twists slightly, giving her a fraction more of his attention. She's smaller than him, her features delicate and her body petite. She's a blend of light and dark, her markings dramatic. To put it simply, she is stunning. A work of art.

Not that he lets her know any of that just yet. Watching her with eyes that are just a little bit intrigued, just a little bit cool, Denya baits her again. A sip of his drink wets his tongue, the booze no longer burning a path down to his stomach.

"speech"

code // art

He looks pleased with himself for getting her attention—for getting more of it than any other wolf here has, anyway. She hasn't decided yet how long she'll entertain him, but he's nice to look at, which more than she can say for many of the bar's patrons. The sharp contrast of darks and lights along his frame is striking, the purple in his eyes deep enough to hold a well of mystery. But Ludivine is no innocent creature; she has plenty of secrets of her own, her tongue as sharp a weapon as her teeth.

"His type is all the same," he says, all sauve confidence. Ludivine lifts her brows slightly and lets out a huff of a laugh, though the sound isn't exactly a friendly one, closer to a scoff than something light and warm. "I suppose you're different?" she prompts, holding his gaze while she takes another slow sip of her drink. She can see it in him—that cool calm, the sedate certainty that he's a class above.

She imagines every girl he's pursued has welcomed his attention.

Begged for it.

Fallen at his feet.

Ludivine offers a sharp smile that says she won't be the same. If he wants something from her, even something so insignificant as her continued attention, he'll have to work for it. She's easily bored and difficult to impress.

table by koi