Masquerade [Kuskovo Estate]

[Sofia Vasilieva]

Sofia Vasilieva

Sofia shifted to accept the kiss to her cheek. Fortunate for Zixin he chose to bring manners with him, for the roam of her eyes beneath the mask was interested but entirely judgemental. The night on the bridge had been purely business, and his bold step onto Moscow’s power board had left an impression. Vasilievs kept enemies closer than friends whatever they claimed to be in public. Though to Sofia’s mind there was no real difference between the two: there was only ever family, and everyone else. Power was power, though. And Zixin Kao had something she wanted.

“You kept your word,” she said while they were still intimately close. He would know she was talking about the basket of lotions that indeed arrived the following morning for her brother’s split knuckles. The plump red of her lips held a smug smile, full of tease. She’d like to see his reaction when he saw Maksim for the first time tonight, injuries entirely erased, and moreso when she made sure he understood it was because of the strings she pulled. “The gift was appreciated, of course. But entirely unnecessary.”

Sofia wasn't ignorant of how he made it very clear to their company in what capacity she’d invited him, but she only found it flattering. Ambivalence would not win much from her beyond dismissal, or perhaps retaliation if it bothered her enough. In fact she’d gone to some effort to ensure their outfits tonight complemented one another in inverse. Red and white, like blood and snow. They were by far the most lavish couple here, and she fully intended to draw attention to it. A possessive touch traced the outside of his arm in welcome. She didn’t miss a step.

“Of course,” she said, the smile undiminished but only warm now, and her attention finally returned to Daniil. A flash of jealousy would not have gone amiss, but she doubted to see it from him. Danya just liked something pretty on his arm in the same way some men liked expensive watches or cars. Elena was an accessory, whether she knew it or not. As such Zixin’s arrival had only interrupted idle conversation to ensure she dictated whose company she was in when he found her. Though dear Danya would want the connection as much as she imagined it would also be of interest to the Syndicate. A gift in itself. “Daniil Tarasovich, meet Zixin Kao. Brought to our shores in tragedy, I’m afraid to say.”

Alina Marveet

The young Marveet couple were swept up almost as soon as they entered the lavish ballroom. Alina was resplendent in her social element, eyes beneath her mask twinkling almost as much as the diamonds stitched into her dress, tonight dark and mysterious as a raven’s wing. The Vasiliev anniversary bash was always as much a political statement as a party in truth, but she had always loved that her parents celebrated their marriage in such a way that forced everyone to acknowledge what a powerhouse they were.

Scion was already here, she noticed, hovering in the general vicinity of her father, Myshelov and the Ascendancy. The arm Alina threaded through Maksim’s naturally drew him in another direction through the massive estate. They might not be able to avoid his father all night, but darkening their evening so early seemed a shame to her.

“There you are, Lina.”

It was Grisha who spoke, threading his way towards them in something she wasn’t quite sure at first glance might actually be his version of urgency. He reached to grasp Maksim’s hand and pat him on the shoulder in greeting with an amiable, "Max." There was never much in the way of formality offered by her baby brother. She looked at the potted plant balanced in the corner of his elbow, sharing a slightly surprised look with Maksim before Grisha added in her ear, “You keep an eye on Sofia, and I’ll take Dima, yeah?”

Alina followed the line of his sight then, to glimpse some distance away a woman she recognised even with the delicate mask and expensive dress. Who it was she found surprising of itself, and it showed in her expression, though she got the meaning well enough. Surely Dima's infatuation must have cooled after five years, though. There had been plenty of women since then at least. Sofia on the other hand. Well, forgiveness was not in her sister's vocabulary. “Well who even invited her?” she asked.

But her brother only shrugged, grinned, and disappeared back amidst the guests.