Post by Aristeides on Dec 31, 2014 13:50:41 GMT
Aristeides did not exactly enjoy the atmosphere of the Dragon. She wondered if the gallery had ever been serviceable, if the entire place had ever been serviceable, or if it had just been created already run-down as a counterpart for the spotless hero bar next door. She'd never be seen dead in that place, but she objected strongly to the idea that just because she was a villain she would enjoy these grubby, unpleasant surroundings. It was, however, the best place to come if you wanted to discuss anything that you'd rather not have any goody-two-shoes overhearing, and while she didn't know exactly how the conversation was going to go, she didn't want her revenge ruined.
That's what this was all about, revenge. How dare these imbeciles not give her the crown she deserved, how dare they vote for that wet - ha - blanket, Isla. Her sugary sweetness was enough to make you sick, and after the effort that Aristeides had put in to convincing these people she was their destined ruler, second place was not good enough. She was not the kind of person who accepted second place.
She couldn't get revenge on her own, no, it would be too easy to trace it back to her if she was the only one involved, so she'd left a little note on the door of a certain French sidekick inviting him to join her in the, ah, 'pleasant' surroundings of the Dragon for a little tête-a-tête. You know, the usual, how are you, how is school, how are we going to destroy my enemies and crush them into dust so thoroughly that they never rise from the ashes of their shame and humiliation, that sort of thing.
She had selected the safest looking drink she could find and a quiet corner and was waiting for her summoned minion to attend. This was, essentially, his audition.
That's what this was all about, revenge. How dare these imbeciles not give her the crown she deserved, how dare they vote for that wet - ha - blanket, Isla. Her sugary sweetness was enough to make you sick, and after the effort that Aristeides had put in to convincing these people she was their destined ruler, second place was not good enough. She was not the kind of person who accepted second place.
She couldn't get revenge on her own, no, it would be too easy to trace it back to her if she was the only one involved, so she'd left a little note on the door of a certain French sidekick inviting him to join her in the, ah, 'pleasant' surroundings of the Dragon for a little tête-a-tête. You know, the usual, how are you, how is school, how are we going to destroy my enemies and crush them into dust so thoroughly that they never rise from the ashes of their shame and humiliation, that sort of thing.
She had selected the safest looking drink she could find and a quiet corner and was waiting for her summoned minion to attend. This was, essentially, his audition.
