Emmeline is a Hawk and a member of the The Tell.
So in Ilrien there’s this thing where everyone pretends to be all social and posh even though underneath the foundation and blush of it all, they totally hate your guts. Em totally gets this and knows whats up. What she does with these people is she walks up says hello gets dismissed by a triviality of politeness then gets up in their face about that time she totally saw them get dumped by that loser merchant in the park and watched as they embarrassingly blubbered into a cheap drink on Hensvina street until they fell into the gutter and the blue shirts definitely got involved. Hesvina, really? She says it a bit too loud and a bit too callously and it really affects them so they turn away and their night is ruined. Then at the next dinner they’re all oh Em I saved you a seat and how are you are the decorative gardens that you really care about doing okay?
Its nice, but Em thinks its kinda fucked up. There’s rules, and then there’s rules, and sometimes it rules. Other times, she feels like there’s no choice but to hunt and stalk down the ugly details about how people are constantly falling apart in front of her just to wedge her way in. Most people, they don’t pay attention to how many tracks they leave behind. They don’t seem to notice when its two in the morning and they really shouldn’t have had that last one but now they’re spilling about next week’s party that she feels hurt about not being invited to about and its late and they don’t notice her perched around the corner fists curled up as if to say this sucks and I wish people liked me more and I didn’t have prowl this corner just to get invited to things. This game goes on and on and Em keeps making friends this way but it feels kinda empty and sour and devoid of genuine connection. Its like, a little lonely at the top just a bit.
So Em has this great idea, as she stares into her wardrobe mirror changing clothes for the ninth time today because who has time for frills when that creepy guy you have to chase down the vintage for the party that is going to totally buy the graces of Lady Whoknowswhat tonight from basically lives in the sewers and his place will stain anything nice you wear. At least her boots clean up nicely. Her idea is simple, she will buy an extra package from him, and he’ll let slip about the designer drugs that are coming into the city the following day. Em will act casual but pry the contact out of him so that this weekend she can throw back with all her girls and not worry about this totally fucked up and stifling ambition they all have about getting good with the Prince or whatever. There she can wear the frills she adores and feels good in. This idea totally rules.
Em is going to tell Colette about this, and Colette will tell her its stupid, and to just hit up those gross opium bars that the ladies who don’t want their nails ruined are always gushing about. She will argue that its much easier and will miss out on the fact that Em feels so much more comfortable chasing down weirdos than she ever would sitting with her back straight at this posh to do parlor. But who is she kidding Colette is her best bitch and can see right through the walls Em tends to put up, and will agree that Em is completely right a party this weekend would totally rule. And that extra package Em will buy from that sewer creep was always going to be for Colette’s little habit that of course Em doesn’t judge her about.
In front of the mirror Em finishes her scheming right about when she finishes her eyeliner. One last look and she’s totally ready for the city streets. I look hot she thinks, like in a fierce I don’t know if I should get too close or not kinda way. She has her wavy brown hair tied up a bit too tight but hair cannot get in the way of aim if she needs it tonight. She straps the folding rifle to her back for the swindler who just won’t take a hint and gives her eyes one more glance before throwing her cloak on to go tell Colette her great idea. What would Lovell do with out her?
Relationships
- Colette Lovell, cousin
- Roscura, rival