#gildcdglory

𝚒𝚗𝚝.     𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛  𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎  𝚘𝚏  𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚜,   𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐  𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎  𝚊  𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢  𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝  𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗.

echoes   of   shouts   and   groans   bounced   from   wall   to   wall,   contrasted   with   the   current   silence   of   the   room.   kiran   grimaced   at   the   idea   that   he   was   actually   quite   excited   to   come   today.   a   meeting   of   only   the   top   of   the   burning   gods   food   chain   happened   often,   yes,   but   they'd   never   been   set   at   stoneage   industries.   

the   subject   of   the   meeting   caused   the   uproar.   as   a   group   they   were   careful,   you   had   to   be   in   white   collar   crime.   and   admittedly,   kiran   hadn't   reached   that   expectation.   he   liked   throwing   his   money   at   things,   sometimes   not   even   bothering   to   check   if   the   money   was   clean.   

they   had   taken   a   hard   stance.   kiran   was   to   stop   messing   around.   under   threat   of   death   was   implied.   so   now,   kiran   sat   silently,   knee   bouncing   up   and   down.   his   eyes   flicked   up   to   the   only   other   person   still   sitting   there.   haneul   seon.   finance.   it   was   only   so   fitting   that   he'd   be   apart   of   the   crusade   to   stop   kiran's   patronage   of   the   arts.

"i   suppose   you're   enjoying   this."   he   said   bitterly.   "and   here   i   thought   we   were   meant   to   support   the   culture   of   the   city   we   live   in."

location: the faceless ship, level 2. the opulence of the second floor of the boat is only matched by how tacky it is. there is probably a certain appeal to members of nyc about the golden days of yore, of how high society flaunted wealth and status by holding such ridiculous balls with classical music and fancy gowns yet, none of it appeals to the gutter rat that is donovan kowalski. there is a certain aspect of this he does find agreeable though, and it has to do with the sheer amount of lavish jewellery on display. the best thing about this combat-esque outfit is the sheer number of pockets it affords him, hiding places – he has seen at least one-woman encrusted head to toe in a pearl dress. are they real? he doesn’t know. what he does know is, that it’s all ripe for the picking, red ruby fruits on low hanging branches. it helps to have an accomplice in such matters, the RABID DOG has roped THE PARIAH into its dirty deeds, something they seem only too happy to participate in. “you think I could do that suave thing from like heist movies? where I’m dancing with someone, and i just slip the necklace off so smoothly they don’t even notice?” he doesn’t have to talk so quietly, the noise of the crowds perfectly covering up any wicked conversations taking place. even with the constant threat of surveillance looming around them all like vultures, this carrion feels no fear. there are simply too many people to be so focused on one or two taking rings off satin gloves or pilfering bejewelled purses. “how much’ve you got, anyways? i’m on $30, a ring and a pocket watch from some guy taking this whole setup waaay too seriously,”