Rise of a Merchant Prince

In a rented apartment in the Garden District of Mirros, Ajamar is hunched over an overly ornate desk and flicking through several files with an intent expression. He taps one of Verity's collection of pens against a blotter pad of parchment for notes and finds himself lost for how to list the current guest list. 

The night is surprisingly mild, compared to Ylaruam and all the stained glass windows are flung open to let in the honeysuckle scent from the window boxes. The sound of late night dining and carousing in the street is a gentle note to the sound of Verity pacing on the other side of the room as she dresses and undresses - making last minute alterations to her costume. 

"Can't you just wear what you wore at the last dinner, these are different clients?" He says solemnly, knowing she can't see his amused smile and private joke. Ducking for the inevitable small shoe projectile that does indeed ping off his hunched shoulder, barely missing his wing as he curls them in. 

"You know damn well this is entirely different. The dinner at home was showing deference to our new neighbours. This is battle." comes the pert, and somewhat stressed reply. 

"Why battle? You know these people really well." He abandons his files and rescues the sleek looking slipper, surprised at the weight of it and a quick inspection shows the toe is reinforced with metal. "I guess too well?" 
The worrying development of reinforced toes makes him glance at his files and then eventually weave through the luggage and the glass and flower filled divider to the bedroom part of the apartment. 

The white linen bed is stacked with bolts of fabric, sewing boxes, her sketch books and lockboxes of jewelry and jewels. He sharply intakes a breath, they don't have time for a full refit. Not again. His anxiety is lessened when she steps forward to take possession of the shoe. 

Barefoot, but fully dressed in a royal blue silk corset with a deep basque waist. Attached tight sleeves that come down like gloves with silver filigree metal hemming. The wide billowing skirts at closer inspection are actually extremely wide legged pants in an identical heavy set satin. Her normally elegantly disheveled curls are straightened within an inch of their life and set back in a sleek and long white-blonde ponytail. A face that is familiar, but alien to him stares back. Dark blue and black powdered pigment make her silver eyes look up-tilted and wider than ever. Verity's freckles are fully powdered over and her whole face is a mask of unreadable elegance. 

The only familiar parts, the Rose and Thorn Confessors chain at her neck. The long silver links that lead down into her corset where he knows her tags are. Strangely, also the mottled old gold of her purple pearl Protection of the Gods. The expectation of death magic. 

Abruptly, he throws his arms around her and squeezes her tightly.

"The deeply feared, can always be fearful." she says with no real inflection. It could be, for either of them. Though, she is the one wearing - and he can feel it - a magically reinforced corset with metal bones. The pressure making her look more petite than ever. He catches her chin with his knuckles and tilts it up.
"Who should we be looking out for tonight?"

"I have a list, but I wanted to get your opinions first. Go in fresh headed. Then when we get back, I'll tell you what I know." she says quietly. Apologetically.

"So there are.. elements here." he scrubs a hand through his silver hair, the threads of gold only truly noticeable up close. "There is reason to be wary." 

"Like I promised. I'm going to do what I can to keep things clean, but... it comes at a price." She begins stacking away her supplies quickly, showing him the back of her reinforced outfit. A long sheer chiffon scarf is tied into her hair and falls from it, directly to the floor - creating something of a veil of black and silver. He realises the colours are a deliberate choice. Putting them on notice. "It's a chance for both of us." 

It sounds cryptic, but they both know what it means. He watches her make order out of the chaos, knowing only she understands where the things go in her large traveling trunks. The process seems to calm her nerves, as to when she's done, she pats her wide legged 'skirts' and he knows she's going in armed. Of course. 
"So we've a long night ahead. This party, then you'll split the files into who you want investing. Then we'll split them out into who I know is light on crime and someone I want to bury under the cobblestones." she says lightly, the murderous glint is back and the frail girl is gone - slipping on her deadly metal slippers. He resists the urge to smudge the powder off of her nose - just to get a quick look at those freckles - at the real Verity. 

"Let's go sell some silk." he says, offering her his arm. To which, she places her hand on it politely. "That's the plan, right?"

"It's your plan. Absolutely. I'm just arm candy." 

He laughed at that all the way to the ballroom of the hotel.