emotional machine

This isn’t really an intro as much as an UPDATE featuring a biography and some changes I’ve realised as I’ve gotten to know Leah’s character better, but given that I’d still recommend y’all give this a once over. Thanks to everyone for getting involved with her and my other characters, and I’m excited to do so much more with her. <3

“sofi once told me that i would make an excellent secret agent if i ever learned how to listen for once,” elise mused thoughtfully. “i think it was a compliment. she and i do this fun thing where we she complains about the trouble i get into, but on the down low she thinks it’s impressive.” 

elise smirked at the rapidly diminishing liquid in her sister’s glass. leah was certainly drunker than she was by miles, but elise was rolling and pleasantly tipsy, and she was having an excellent time. “almost definitely. there was the thanksgiving when i was sixteen that i don’t remember, but i since i don’t remember it, i’m guessing that i was drunker than you were.” 

“in an odd way it is impressive, i suppose,” leah hummed, hand running through her hair in an a moment that was almost pensive; the other drummed its fingertips to the vague beat of the music surrounding them against the glass, as she pondered just how easy it would be  in an atmosphere like this ( in all senses of the word ) to end up with the poisoned chalice. “how you got yourself into the prime minister’s constituency office with a knife, elise, i don’t think i ever want to know.” 

she chuckled at the memory of that particular thanksgiving, given that she remembered it. elise would likely be the one to be blessed with memories of tonight, in an odd reversal of events. “so, thanksgiving 2008... yeah, i was in the representatives, so... probably already boring.” 

for a moment she wondered if she had ever not been boring to her siblings; the older sister who was off at her swiss boarding school during term time, then to harvard before she finally fully moved out to d.c. didn’t that sound more like that estranged cousin you don’t really know at all?’ 

It shouldn’t have been a shock to see the President of the United States sitting beside her. She’d been brushing elbows with the rich and powerful all evening, and who could be more powerful than a head of government? It wasn’t even the first event she’d attended with the commander-in-chief, but where was madame president’s security detail? How was she just lounging about so casually, looking perhaps the perfect level of intoxicated, that Elvyra could stumble upon her almost unwittingly? Perhaps less stringent measures had been taken by secret service considering everyone gathered at the Lourve tonight had undoubtedly been screened to death in the initiation process. A bit bizarre to think that some of the more influential members, Sergio, for example, definitely knew everything there was to know about her. The thought made her uncomfortable. 

“Why were you sitting beside her then?” she wondered, perhaps a bit too audaciously considering her audience. “I think you should give yourself a night off. Leave the networking or negotiating or whatever it is you guys do for when you’re on the clock and enjoy the event. You know, as much as one can enjoy a stuffy auction.” Her eyes flashed to Leontine’s, the literal president, a cheeky smile toying at her lips. “Besides, you don’t look to be in the greatest state for any political negotiations. And I mean that entirely as a compliment.”

"oh, the chair was already empty, she’s just the only person who would wear that. it’s a little tragic. if she sees me this drunk, or knows i have been, she’ll smirk at me for the rest of time, and one day i may not be able to resist slapping it off her face even with the longest patience the world has to offer.” 

leontine shook her head — nudging the jacket under the stool so as to be further out of sight with her heel, she grinned in apparent satisfaction once it was camouflaged from view, and the bar stools filled; the sigh she pushed past her lips was long, and almost akin to a sarcastic expression of pity as much as it was an itch for a cigarette — and took a sip from her glass.

point breakdown : 

STARTERS : [10] x [5] = [50]

MEMES: [2] x [1] = [2]

REPLIES : [23] x [1] = [23]

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT : [1] x [5] = 5 

EXPENDITURE: [-45]  (upgrade to strategos) 

TOTAL:  [ 35 ] points 

LAST WEEK'S TOTAL: [135] points 

TOTAL: [170] points 

“My, my, what am I getting myself into?” he said, laughing at the description of the chat which he was not privy to. Felix enjoyed himself for the rest of the dance, making conversation with the President, and when it was finally over, gracefully bowed and kissed her hand. 

The rest of the evening was a rollercoaster. A rollercoaster of emotions (that frankly, he didn’t expect from himself and would never again expect from himself) ending in the Moulin Rouge, intoxicated by alcohol, by the music that played so loudly in the background, by the enticing red of the interior of the theatre, by the emotions that overtook him so stupidly. More drink, less talk, Elise had said, and it was these words that he lived by as the night progressed. It was a surprise, however, when he found a certain figure lingering by the corners of the Moulin Rouge, almost shadowed by the thick, velvet curtains. An unmistakable figure, and a smile cracked his expression once he was fully sure of who it was. He strode towards her, and again, so primly, said: “Madame President,” he said, though his words were slurred, and he offered his bottle of tequila to her. “It’s a surprise to see you here tonight. You’re a sight for sore eyes.” 

“i surprised myself,” leah admitted. sober, she’d never have been able to deal with such an environment. yet alcohol slowed the world, it almost seemed to drag as she glanced around her, every little detail she wanted to focus on requiring a moment’s longer concentration; however, the ease of it was sliding past the details she didn’t want to focus on ( them blurring into the haze of the background, the abrasive nature of the noise dulled where it would usually press against her skull ) where such a thing would usually be a momentous effort. 

“sofi told me i wasn’t allowed, but elise snuck me in so i guess she’s got to deal with it now. but like... floraigh can under no circumstances find out about this. she will smirk at me for the rest of time and i’ll have to sit on the desire to slap it off her face,”  the president took the bottle of tequila — after a cursory glance around her to check for disapproving figures — and took a drink, furrowing her brows slightly at both the alcohol and the music choice. 

( this was the sort of thing a figure in her position could only get away with given the assistance of the society, which believed intrinsically in the rights of the privileged to do as they pleased; it wasn’t exactly befitting of her to take advantage of that given her politics, but she could be forgiven for one night. right? )

sofi was content to let the evening play out, barring any major national security threats; (think hostage situation, or elise morgan absolutely losing her shit in the middle of the louvre), however. as the night got later, and madame president continued to imbibe more and more glasses of wine, (wine. wine was the drink of choice for the artist, or the analyst in sofi’s unit that got stressed very easily. wine was a sign that something was wrong), it became increasingly clear that it was sofiyah’s duty - as an agent of the united states, but more importantly as a friend - to address it. 

it being, of course, the princess of the netherlands, and the growing jealousy that madame president was struggling with. though art wasn’t necessarily sofi’s forte (she had a soft spot for degas, thanks to her history of dancing), she appreciated the atmosphere of the dimly lit room, surrounded by classic pieces. 

“savor it, don’t chug it,” sofi said dryly. “have either of you discussed where you stand with seeing other people? i know it is impossible to be public, but you do not have to be so…” she wrinkled her nose, looking for the correct word. “distraught.” 

“i’m not distraught,” the woman frowned, just barely a trace over her lips. “fraught, maybe? concerned she’ll get bored with something that has to be so occasional? a little upset, sure. but if i was angry, or distraught about it, at this point i’d be a hypocrite and we both know that’s hardly my favourite position—” 

leah pushed out a sigh, glass clinking against the table, “and, you know, it’s unfair to ask her to be a nun when we’re not together. because, have you seen her? she must get a million offers from people better than me in all kinds of arenas, she’s so...” ( a vague gesture finished the sentence — settling into heavy and momentary silence, discomfort stirring in her stomach — as something, probably sofiyah, stayed her hand to prevent her from picking up the glass again. ) “i don’t know. unburdened, sometimes, and that’s not fair because i know she isn’t, but...” 

Amelia smirked as she noticed the blush on Leah’s face, that was interesting. Maybe there is a little more to it than she first thought? “I’m sure it doesn’t surprise you when I say Regina knows.” she chuckled lightly, “That girl knows everything”

“Of course, I’m nothing but honest with you. I have no reason to lie.” And it was true, she didn’t have an reason to lie to her, in fact lying could be the worst of two option for her with so much more riding on their relationship than just business. They had known each other too long for Amelia to want to risk that. “Usually it’s much easier to understand, I admit. The blush on your cheeks tells me you got the point though”

“you were certainly direct, it was hard to miss the point once I knew what it said.” 

eye contact was the hardest thing for leah to learn getting into politics — it was one of the first signs of authenticity, but likewise one of the things she’d never understood why she struggled with, but always had — and she’d managed, over time, though discomfort still sat unseen behind it. after all, leontine morgan prided herself on it. transparency, authenticity compared to her predecessors; ironic, one might suppose, given her sneaking around with the netherlands’ beloved crown princess, but love and desire could make a fool or a hypocrite of the best of beings, and those who didn’t understand it? well, perhaps they had never been in love.

There was never a doubt in Ivy’s mind that Leah would follow behind her once it was safe to do so. Perhaps there should have been, but with desire as strong as theirs, Ivy hadn’t been concerned. As Elise had mentioned in the past, they were not fantastic at sneaking around, weren’t as subtle as was required, but currently, Ivy wasn’t bothered. She had had three glasses of champagne and she had made the mistake of repeatedly gazing at Leah as she had been biting her lip, looking in Ivy’s own direction. Certainly no one could blame her for (perhaps carelessly) mentioning a place where they could have a moment of privacy, away from the Society’s prying eyes.

When the door opened moments later and Leah emerged, Ivy couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. “Are we getting better or worse at this?” She asked, sounding every bit as amused as she was. The concern was real, and likely something Ivy would dwell on at a later date, but for now, she simply wanted to enjoy Leah’s presence. “You look incredible,” Ivy stated as she wrapped her arms around Leah’s neck and moving closer to her. “It’s not the most romantic location, but I’m happy you followed me, Snoepje.” Against Leah’s ear, Ivy whispered, “How are you enjoying the party so far?”

“depending on who you ask,” leah exhaled — sweet, laden with the countless glasses of wine she’d imbibed, and lengthy; all the tension built up within her body could be loosened and let go of now that ivy was ( at long last ) close to her, arms grazing her neck — and placed her hands lightly upon the princess’ waist, “either too much, or not enough. but either way, it’s better now I’m with you, no matter the...” leah chuckled, eyes casting themselves briefly around them, “decor.”

she then drew the blonde into the kiss she’d been craving all night.

eased by the familiar warmth of her closeness, it’s equal parts tender and demonstrative of the near desperation she’d been feeling — perhaps, even, a note of the jealousy that had run through her ( and still wasn’t entirely gone ) when ivy mentioned her liaisons with one avery harper — before she pulled slightly back and pressed her forehead to the princess’ own. it would be wrong, and hypocritical, of leontine morgan to be angry. so she wasn’t. but jealousy? they’d made no safeguards against that, and why? they knew it would be impossible.