Ludivine Goultard slowly moved one leg up and crossed it over the other. The sounds of violence and fury carried through the doors of the Bismark - locked while one of the chefs was detained (and equally beaten) by the Yellowjackets.Â
A lazy grin crept across Ludivine's face. Her position at one of the tables just outside the establishment afforded her the pleasure of hearing the chaos that stirred within. What a waste of a man. Always lauded over for his cooking, which to Ludivine tasted no better than a corpse of one of the fishbacks his father was with. That was his mistake: The pitiful little confession he made to his love one night on the docks, of a father who abandoned him for the Serpent Reavers, but oh! How he struggled to make a name for himself, and how he loved her dearly no matter what whispers were made around him.
That was his mistake. Thinking that life might hold any more promise than a drop in the ocean. What a pain it was, having to hear that boring little tirade to his sweetheart. Ludivine wasn't the kind of person to pass up such an opportunity.
It only took a short few days to knock up a quick fake of a letter from the chef's father. Her Sahagin writing had been immaculate, and contained enough fake details about the father and son's correspondence and plotting that even that annoying Baderion would rush off some fresh faced loser to give his report to Coral Tower. And hey, who's to say it wasn't true anyway? Maybe the chef was plotting to poison the Admiral after proving himself at next week's big gala. Maybe there was more poison around the storeroom than Ludivine had slipped in one day in the past week.
A sadistic chuckle escaped her lips and she shook her head. All it took was a bit of information, and you could twist the world however you wanted.Â
She relaxed her face and her softly curved duskwright ears perked up slightly at the sound of doors opening from the rear of the restaurant. A shame. She wouldn't get to see the man being dragged past her in shackles, his face bloodied and broken. Oh well. What a pain.
She slowly rolled herself off her chair and stood up, rubbing the back of her neck. The day was still young, and maybe the city had more to exploit.Â
A gentle smile masked her dark pleasure as she strode in the direction of the parts of town where whispers were business.
A lazy grin crept across Ludivine's face. Her position at one of the tables just outside the establishment afforded her the pleasure of hearing the chaos that stirred within. What a waste of a man. Always lauded over for his cooking, which to Ludivine tasted no better than a corpse of one of the fishbacks his father was with. That was his mistake: The pitiful little confession he made to his love one night on the docks, of a father who abandoned him for the Serpent Reavers, but oh! How he struggled to make a name for himself, and how he loved her dearly no matter what whispers were made around him.
That was his mistake. Thinking that life might hold any more promise than a drop in the ocean. What a pain it was, having to hear that boring little tirade to his sweetheart. Ludivine wasn't the kind of person to pass up such an opportunity.
It only took a short few days to knock up a quick fake of a letter from the chef's father. Her Sahagin writing had been immaculate, and contained enough fake details about the father and son's correspondence and plotting that even that annoying Baderion would rush off some fresh faced loser to give his report to Coral Tower. And hey, who's to say it wasn't true anyway? Maybe the chef was plotting to poison the Admiral after proving himself at next week's big gala. Maybe there was more poison around the storeroom than Ludivine had slipped in one day in the past week.
A sadistic chuckle escaped her lips and she shook her head. All it took was a bit of information, and you could twist the world however you wanted.Â
She relaxed her face and her softly curved duskwright ears perked up slightly at the sound of doors opening from the rear of the restaurant. A shame. She wouldn't get to see the man being dragged past her in shackles, his face bloodied and broken. Oh well. What a pain.
She slowly rolled herself off her chair and stood up, rubbing the back of her neck. The day was still young, and maybe the city had more to exploit.Â
A gentle smile masked her dark pleasure as she strode in the direction of the parts of town where whispers were business.
