[attr="class","shockwave-lyrics"]laugh as she tries to give you what you cannot give herself

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Aisling is not one to be quick to anger. No, she is of river-run temper, still like a pond in the quiet-coloured eve, calm like the steady flow of a silver-chased stream; rare is the occasion upon which her serene composure is broken. But, tonight, tonight, the gentle tinkle of a spring-sung rivulet has been stirred to a raging storm-fury, Aisling's blood burning with all the light and rage of her beloved stars as the specific requests of her mission contractor echo in her mind. [break][break]

A 'pretty' demonstration, by 'pretty' girls. Patronisation, misogyny, and marginalisation of her affinity all in one - three of her most disliked happenings collocated together - is it any wonder she is angry? Worse still, the contractor - Aaron Michaels - is a noble she is... familiar with; he and his group of friends have always been elitists of the worst kind, in possession of an arrogance even her ever-passive grandmother cannot help but denounce, and the few times they have interacted, he has never failed to mock her for her weakness. No, Aisling is the very opposite of eager to begin this mission - already, she is counting down the hours until she may leave.[break][break]

The sole redeeming factor of tonight is her mission partner. Avori Lémieux, a fellow starcaller and a fellow heiress - her company, Aisling expects, will be far, far preferable to any other. Perhaps they can draw strength from each other - she has no doubt the other starcaller, too, would not be pleased by their assignment tonight.[break][break]

To the mansion where the party is being held, she draws near. Lyze is a silent, comforting weight on her shoulder, guiding her steps with quiet thoughts and judging the world with his dark amber gaze. "Miss Fei?" A voice, tentative, calls out to her. 'Servant,' her familiar whispers; "yes," she replies, dipping her head in a graceful nod to the direction Lyze indicates. "Please follow me."[break][break]

There is no hesitant touch of her elbow to guide her way, and for that, small mercies, she is inordinately glad. The servant leads her into the maze of a house ( carefully, so carefully, she maps the route in her head knowing her owl is doing the same ), stopping outside a door Lyze recognises as belonging to some small conference room. "Miss Fei, Miss Lémieux is inside," the servant informs her. "The young master's party begins in an hour. I will return in 50 minutes. Please take the time to adequately prepare."[break][break]

"Thank you," Aisling says politely, revealing none of her inner rage in her tone, her bearing. She is the heiress of the Fei family, she will maintain dignity and composure. Hearing the quiet sound of retreating footsteps, she turns, breathes deeply, and enters the room.

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