𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐑

She had learned not to rely on others; to lean on anyone else was to grow dependent upon a crutch that could be pulled out from beneath you with no warning, and no thought. She’d done it once before, and lying in its wake, crumpled and alone in the dust of what once was, she had found herself. She would not be likely to make such a mistake again. 

And yet… it was nice to hear. 

She cared far too much for those within her Syndicate; other leaders surely did not feel such empathy, for their coalitions were working machines, instruments of war and power. But she knew their hearts; she knew they deserved more. A firm ruler and an iron hand did not always have to be the same thing. 

And so she looked up from the papers she had spread upon the table, palms remaining flat-pressed against the harsh headlines and hastily written features. The pinch of her face softened – but only just. She took in her ally with marked consideration, and the tight hunch of her shoulders lessened. A subordinate, yes. Someone worth controlling, yes. But someone. Zelda was who she was when she was leading, when she stood at the head of the uniformed masses -- and so was Lorelei. She was a face amongst the numbers, a piece at the head of the board. But she was human, just the same. And that, at times, was nice to have.

“I know,” she said, gaze falling once more to the headlines below, to the chilling reminder that there was always someone over their shoulders, no matter how powerful they may be, “But you shouldn’t have to shoulder my burdens. My demons are my own – I wouldn’t wish them on anyone.”

She had begun the front as just that -- an excuse to dip her fingers and toes in the secretive, and ever lucrative, allure of nightlife, to spy upon those who came from all corners to lose their inhibitions in the dark. It had acted as such with no hitches; all Syndicates, especially the lower fledgling members who were more susceptible to hubris and carelessness, seemed to find there way here from time to time, and for a while it was just that. But the girls who worked for her -- up on the stages, dancing just beyond the reach of the lecherous patrons who filled Zelda’s pockets and her ears, to the girls behind the bar who whispered in her ear whenever she asked -- this, too, was family. And so then, though so few of them shared power in the literal sense that Zelda did, this was home. 

And so she had taken a more active hand in the running of the place despite hiring a full-time manager, in addition to leading the powerful Earth-bound family she so love, which was why she found herself here in the glaring, judging light of day. The bar was open, but it was a rare few, a select and specific breed who occupied Equinox in the daytime. None of the luxury, all of the hedonism -- she was just happy that the girls had agreed not to dance where the light could touch them from the closed windows, no matter how heavy the curtains that covered them. 

“Personally --” she said, locked in the midst of a conversation with one of the dancers, who sat polishing silverware and glasses alongside the bartender ( all the girls worked, all the girls earned their keep; Zelda took care of them in kind ), “I don’t think he was much of a loss. Had nothing against him personally, but I wasn’t at all moved by the display.” The girls shuddered; the tale she had recounted about the display at the gala had moved them all. “I thought it was underwhelming. A few even lost their lunch. They need stronger constitutions. Or maybe they should just kill someone more imposing next time.”

It was only halfway a front; as nonplussed as she was by the fate of the Fire Syndicate, should something similar happen to her own people, she would raise hell.