#no thoughts head empty want to be bossed about by pretty half elf lady

[camelliagwerm]

The whip is surprisingly sturdy and bears no sign of frequent use. Its black handle is made of bone, wrapped in a good leather. It even still smells of leather, as if it was made just recently. When you take the whip in your hands, a soft, warm wave of energy runs down your spine. The whip practically begs you to wave it, to feel its impact, promising immeasurable pleasures to its owner.

OCTAVIA'S ROMANCE → 6/?

[feynites]

@lycheemilkart have some Banana Bachelor Auction shenanigans! 

Also featuring @selenelavellan‘s Selene! Because Ana needed a friend to put her up to this lol.

Bachelor auctions are weird.

 Vena had never heard of them before the firm’s latest charity event, to be honest. He gathers they’re pretty common in the Free Marches, and Orlais and Ferelden, too. Among the humans there, anyway. A good percentage of him is intensely suspicious of any kind of ‘charity event’ that involves buying people for fun, but, Serahlin assures him that it’s just symbolic. A date, not a sex thing. Although it is also kind of a sex thing, judging by all the flirting and joking going around.

 Ostensibly, that’s why they usually just sell men for these sorts of events. Because humans are weird about gender, too. The firm is Arlathan based, though, so they decide their ‘bachelor’ auction is just going to be in name only.

 Well, Vena doesn’t really get the appeal. But he gets the rules. All willing and eligible singles in the firm are expected to show up and let people bid on a date with them. Vena’s done worse things for less noble causes, and everyone seems flatteringly certain that he’ll net a small fortune. Plus, Tasallir really does not want to do it. He makes his ‘oh gods no shoot me now’ face whenever the subject comes up, which is a little deer-in-headlights-ish, to be honest. Vena loudly declaring that he’s going to not only participate but bring in the biggest bids usually deflects things back into the realms of comfortable eye-rolling.

 And he’s not alone on the bidding block, either. Serahlin has signed herself up, along with Thenvunin from reception, and the new temp, and like half the janitorial staff. Plus the boss’ own brother. Mostly, Vena thinks, they all just want to have the fancy evening out. Everyone dresses up nice and practices their struts and poses beforehand. Vena decides to wear suspenders. Not the trendiest, but they look good on him and he can use them like a prop to make provocative gestures. Gestures that also look funny, of course, because he’s not actually for sale.

 Sylaise woldn’t actually pimp them all out.

 …Probably.

 “Are you going to bid on me?” he asks Taz when they’re heading over. Waggling his eyebrows, while Tasallir keeps his gaze firmly on the road, and obeys all the traffic laws, and doesn’t even go through the red light when there is literally NO ONE coming for miles come on Tasallir FOR MILES. But ‘traffic laws are not suggestions’, and something something breaking laws utter chaos something, so Vena settles for teasing him instead.

 Taz sighs.

 “I already promised Serahlin I would buy her date,” he says. “We are going to my favourite restaurant up on Fifth. And then on to the theatre. If I have enough leftover after that, I will buy you, and you can come along too. If you behave.”

 Vena lets out a low whistle.

 “I don’t know, I’ve been led to believe I’m going to be expensive. Not really third wheel material,” he quips.

 “I thought that was office sarcasm,” Taz replies, dry as the desert.

Vena smacks a hand to his chest.

 “You wound me, sir. You wound me.”

 They trade a few barbs for the rest of the way. Vena trying to cover up some of his nerves as they look for parking, because there isn’t a parking attendant at this thing and also because Tasallir probably wouldn’t trust them with his car even if there was. They’re perfectly on time, though. Vena even has a few minutes to dash into the bathroom and double check his hair. He braided it in a more traditional style for the event, something from the Dalish side of his family. A look mostly cobbled together from old family photos that he got from an ancestry website, and then several tutorials that looked like they fit the bill. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Vena’s a little nervous that it’s not ‘fashionable’ enough for Sylaise’s standards.

 She’s a pretty demanding boss.

 But she pays very, very well, so he usually just tries to go with it. It beats following the family plans, anyway.

 The auction is at a night club owned by Sylaise’s family. A classy night club, too, one that was established in her grandparents’ days, when ‘club’ meant champagne and crooners and softly glittering magelights, more talking than dancing and more live shows than DJ’s. Vena’s got nothing against the more modern style of clubbing, but there’s something to be said for the highbrow kind, too. For one thing, the decor is gorgeous. If a bit weird. There is a lot of velvet and clam shells, and there are some truly glorious jokes waiting in that, but the music is soft enough to talk over and the lighting is good enough to see everyone’s outfits.

 The ‘bachelors’ are expected to mill around with the guests for the first half of the evening. Try and build up interest and sell themselves and all that. Vena mostly sticks with Tasallir as the event gets underway, though.

 He tells himself that he’s trying to play up the ‘dark and mysterious’ angle. But truth be told, Sylaise’s brother is probably cornering that market, and his reluctance probably has more to do with the unexpectedly high number of magisters who’ve turned out for the auction. ‘For charity’, everyone agrees, but Vena can’t help feeling like there’s something gauche about their obvious delight in the prospect of bidding on Arlathan elves.

 There are other people at the club too, though.

 Serahlin spends a good chunk of time chatting with a handsome blond elf, who Vena recognizes from some celebrity gossip magazines. Ada-something, he thinks. The jewellery designer, the one who did that infamous ‘moving snake’ necklace that Melarue wore to the Elven Prominence Awards last fall.

 Several of the firm’s more high-profile clientele are present too, of course, including Rala Inirel, the owner of Arlathan’s largest adult toy company. Vena has handled several of Ms Inirel’s accounts, and drags Tasallir over for some polite small talk. The face of Wonder, Sylaise’s sister-in-law’s little inventor’s guild, is also around.

 Among the less familiar faces, Vena spots a striking, pale-haired woman dressed in a silver gown. Her date is a petite redhead, who he thinks might be throwing him some glances. He can’t put names to their faces, so he doesn’t venture over. But he does offer up a wink when he catches her eye at one point. She’s pretty. More subtly dressed than most of the club’s occupants, and with a Dalish-style clip in her hair. Or what he thinks is one, anyway.

 There’s also a man who Vena thinks might actually be a member of House Pavus, in among the magisters. But he’s still largely skirting around that contingent when there is a slight commotion at the entrance. It draws a few eyes. Vena and Taz are still at Rala Inirel’s table when they turn, and see their boss’ other brother make his way in.

 Falon’Din Evanuris bears a stronger resemblance to his younger sister than he does to his twin brother, but you’d have to look closely to see it. Especially when Sylaise isn’t dying her hair blonde. The Evanuris heir is notorious for his disruptive behaviour. Vena still remembers getting stabbed by him, on one particular occasion. It doesn’t do a lot to help his nerves.

 But tonight he’s wearing a suit. His hair is combed back, and apart from throwing a glare around the room, his only real action is to find an unoccupied table and sit it in. One of the club servers brings him a menu and a bidding paddle, and just gets waved off rather than snarled at.

 A few murmurs spread through the assembled attendees anyway.

 Vena looks towards his boss, and it turns out to be good timing. She catches his eye and motions with her head, before moving towards the stage.

 Ah.

 The auction’s not supposed to start for another half hour, but apparently invading relatives have bumped up the time frame. He nods at Tasallir and Ms Inirel before excusing himself from the table, and taps the shoulder of every other ‘bachelor’ he passes on the way to the front stage. Serahlin is already headed there, towing along Thenvunin from reception and most of the rest of the volunteers. The others seem to pick up on the trend and make their own way over, as Sylaise gracefully calls for attention to the stage by ringing her empty champagne flute with a spoon.

 “Ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary guests, if I could have your attention for a moment please,” she requests. “It seems dinner was too delicious by far, and flew by all the more quickly for it. In light of the lull, I see no reason why we cannot get the charity highlight of the evening underway.”

 Vena’s sure that more than a few people in the crowd aren’t buying the excuse. But the cue is accepted anyway, and the guests settle down at their tables as Vena and the other volunteers queue up along the back of the stage. Falon’Din Evanuris glares at his sister, but doesn’t otherwise move. Tasallir keeps his seat at Rala Inirel’s table, and the mysterious redhead and her date settle into the empty one behind Falon’Din. Along with a few other notorious gossip-mongers, and the famous jeweler. The guests from Tevinter largely fill up the other half of the club. A few more drinks are refilled, as the lighting is changed to highlight the stage.

 “Our first bidding option is Sten,” Sylaise begins, as she summons her script with a flourish of magic. Sten, from the janitorial group, moves forward at the cue. “From our building maintenance crew. A humble but vital position to any operation, Sten is the only Vashoth bachelor on our list. So I would keep those paddles at the ready if your tastes run to the exotic and statuesque. Sten is a sword enthusiast who enjoys exercise, and is offering a date to Arlathan’s premiere Ancient Reenactment Fair…”

 Sten obligingly rotates himself at the front of the stage, and gets a fair few bidders once Sylaise has finished his introduction. Their boss has ordered things to try and maximize the build-up, so a few more of the less ‘known’ volunteers carry on with kicking things off. The magister crowd take over the early bidding, as the audience throws in the occasional clap or wolf whistle. Vena takes some deep breaths and focuses on his routine. Be charming, he reminds himself. It’s all for fun.

 For charity, even.

 Thenvunin from reception gets to the front of the stage and looks like a deer caught in headlights, despite his best efforts not to. One of Sylaise’s in-laws, a striking figure in all red, puts in the winning bid for his ‘scenic bird watching’ date. Then it’s Serahlin’s turn.

 “One of the most successful family law experts in our employ, and a stunning beauty besides, Serahlin enjoys theatre, fine dining, and grinding her enemies beneath the points of her impeccable heels. Our office ice queen has promised a rejuvenating spa date to her winning bidder - and perhaps an opportunity to help her defrost,” Sylaise announces.

 Serahlin’s smile looks a bit pinned on, at that, but she still gracefully turns and offers an elegant bow towards the club floor.

 Tasallir puts in the first bid on her. He’s immediately countered by the prestigious jeweler, in what sets off the first heated, one-on-one bidding war of the night. It puts a crackle of excitement in the air, even if Vena knows that Taz is bidding as a friend. Once or twice someone else throws in a bid, seemingly drawn in by the air of competition itself. But the jeweler himself just seems pleasantly determined to win, and eventually Taz caps out at five hundred dollars, and the cheery blond elf wins his date for a solid six.

 Vena wonders if anyone’s going to top that tonight.

 And then Sylaise calls her brother up onto the stage.

 Dirthamen seems set to play up the ‘mysterious’ angle again, as he stands stock still and doesn’t turn. In fact he barely even moves his arms as Sylaise reads out a spiel about him liking books and masquerades and offering, as his date, an evening tour through the Labyrinthine Gardens and an exclusive chance to dine in the maze’s fashionable center restaurant, which Vena knows requires reservations a full year in advance.

 The date alone is probably going to merit high bidding, so no one is surprised when there’s an initial flurry of interest. Dirthamen surpasses Serahlin’s record before the bids finally start to taper off near the eight hundred dollar mark. Three bidders keep things going past a thousand, though - the white-haired elf in the silver dress, Magister Danarius from Tevinter, and Falon’Din Evanuris.

 See, Vena thinks, as the guy aggressive bids against everyone trying to buy his twin’s date. This is why the tabloids always write those stories about you two.

 Magister Danarius caps out at the two thousand dollar mark. Falon’Din turns to glare at the white-haired elf who outbids him again, and looks near to throwing one of his iconic tantrums. Sylaise stares directly at her older brother with a look that could peel paint, though, and after a moment, he subsides with nothing worse than a curse word. Apparently at his max, as his rival wins the date with his brother for a hefty two-thousand and four hundred dollars.

 If Dirthamen’s surprised, it doesn’t really show on his blank expression. Though as he passes by Vena to go and sit with the winner, there does some to be a slight furrow to his brow.

 “Well,” Sylaise says. “I’m so pleased at the wealth of charity we’ve been seeing! Let’s keep the ball rolling, shall we?”

 There are a few chuckles. Falon’Din gets up and exits dramatically from the club, as Sylaise pointedly clears her throat.

 “Venavismi,” she calls.

 Tough act to follow, Vena thinks. But he can see some of the cracks in his employer’s smile. So he strides confidently up to the front of the stage, and does his best twirl. He focuses on his showboating as Sylaise reads his introduction; snapping his suspenders and rolling up his jacket sleeves. And effect which he knows does his silhouette a lot of favours.

 “Venavismi has promised his winning bidder a day trip out of the city, for a relaxing beach trip featuring lunch at the Stormward Open Air Grill. Shall we start the bidding at eighty?”

 Magister Danarius is the first to lift his paddle.

 Vena wonders if there are laws against reneging on charity dates.

 There are some whispers over from Dirthamen’s table, though, and after a minute, the same woman who won the date with Sylaise’s brother puts her paddle up.

 “Ninety,” she offers.

 There are some titters over that. Dirthamen doesn’t seem perturbed, but the woman’s current date - the cute redhead - blushes right to the roots of her hair.

 “I have ninety. Do I have a hundred?” Sylaise asks.

 Tasallir bids.

 Thank you, buddy, Vena thinks.

 “A hundred twenty?” Sylaise ventures.

 “One-thirty,” Danarius offers.

 “One-fifty,” the white-haired woman counters, with a broad grin. Her date glances up towards Vena, still blushing. But after a second, she ventures a wink towards him, too.

 Ooh.

 Vena thinks he might be charmed. She doesn’t have a paddle, though, he realizes. Is her friend bidding on her behalf…?

 That might not be so bad.

 “One-sixty,” Danarius bids.

 “One-seventy,” Taz counters, like a hero.

 “Two hundred,” declares the white-haired woman.

 Vena thinks that might be it. But the magister seems set on redeeming his losses over Dirthamen, so he bids again. Taz counters him. The white-haired woman out-bids Taz. Vena tries to keep from fidgeting on stage as the numbers get higher, and some dark corner of his brain wonders if there isn’t something innate that really hates this, like some genetic corner that remembers when his paternal ancestors were standing on serious auction blocks in Tevinter. Because gods above he cannot remember being this uncomfortable before in his life.

 He loses focus for a minute and by the time he tunes back in, his bids have somehow reached the five hundreds.

 “Five-hundred and eighty,” the white-haired woman says, as Danarius virtually grinds his bidding sign into dust in his hand, and Taz gives Vena an apologetic look. He’s tapped out, but that’s okay. Vena’s dates are pretty good, but not really that good.

 “Any more takers?” Sylaise asks, looking thoroughly pleased with the bidding war.

 Danarius’ paddle stays down.

 “Sold!” his boss happily decrees, and gestures towards the white-haired woman. “To one of our most charitable contributors of the evening!”

 Her tone dips in admiration.

 Vena’s not sure how he’s supposed to respond to his boss kind of blatantly flirting with the unknown business associate who just bought him. He makes his way down from the stage, for starters, as she moves on to the next sap for the chopping block. Serahlin pats his hand as he passes her to go over to his winning bidder’s table.

 It helps, actually. Vena’s found his smile and a bit of his equilibrium again by the time he gets there.

 “Well, I must admit - I thought you’d won your date for the evening,” he says, as the redhead scoots a chair one open between herself and her date. Dirthamen sits at the white-haired woman’s opposite side. She smiles, and gestures for Vena to sit.

 “And I must admit that I did,” she tells him. “But my friend thought you were too cute to pass up, so I got your date as a gift. I’m Selene.”

 Reaching over, she shakes his hand, and then gestures towards the redhead.

 “This is Ana.”

 Vena offers his hand to Ana. She might still be blushing, but she also turns it like a proper, polite admirer, and bows over it rather than shaking it.

 “I like your braids,” she blurts.

 He grins, unabashed.

 More and more charming, this Ana.

 “Thank you. I like your freckles,” he commends, with another wink. It seems effective, as she lets of his hand with a nervous flutter, and turns to stare at the crumpled napkin on the table in front of her.

 “I must apologize,” Vena realizes, as he scoots his own chair more comfortably close to the table. Keeping his voice low, beneath the sound of Sylaise’s auctioning. “I don’t really know either of your names. Have you hired the firm before?”

 “Oh, no,” Selene admits. “But Mythal Evanuris sometimes hires myself and Ana to do contract work.”

 “Ah,” he says. “Well that would explain it. What sort of work do you do?”

 “Human resources,” Selene says.

 Vena blinks.

 His first thought is that Human Resources isn’t usually contract work. But then, maybe they’re head-hunters? The business equivalent of talent scouts for the various branches of the Evanuris corporate empire? That would make sense. It probably takes a lot of work to find the right people for various positions throughout those businesses, definitely enough to make for full-time work. He lets the questions subside as the bidding starts up, and takes several minutes to appreciate that he didn’t end up over at the magisters’ tables.

 By the end of the evening, all the dates have been bought for at least respectable amounts, and the charity pot looks quite healthy. The public relations pot is probably even healthier. The lighting shifts and the last round of refreshments are brought out, as Sylaise encourages everyone to mingle and flirt and get to know their wonderful dates and charitable bidders.

 “We should exchange contact information,” Dirthamen suggests, tentatively.

 “Well you and I just need a meeting place, really,” Selene says. “But I won’t say no to your number. Why don’t you escort me to the washroom, and we’ll discuss it?”

 She takes Dirthamen by the arm, and leads him off with a nod to Ana, and then one to Vena, too.

 Leaving them alone to get acquainted.

 “I made some tentative reservations for the weekend after next, at the beach bar and grill, but we can move it around to whatever time you like,” he offers. “Or do something else. We don’t actually have to go on a beach date. It’s just a strong suggestion.”

 “I like beaches,” Ana tells him.

 She looks like she might just be laughing at him a little. But Vena can roll with that. He grins back.

 “Good excuse to wear bathing suits,” he agrees. “I wouldn’t mind seeing yours, I bet it’s cute.”

 She hums at him.

 “Well, I’m Dalish, so. Our bathing suits tend to be the invisible kind.”

 Vena’s grin widens in delight. He suspected, from her tattoos, but the confirmation is nice.

 “I could get on board with that,” he says, flirting back. “But I don’t think it’s a nude beach. Maybe I should buy you a suit, to cover the unexpected expense. We could make it two dates. One to go shopping and the other to show off the goods.”

 Ana’s blush comes back. He’s happy to see it.

 “Maybe three - you might not have picked a nude beach, but I know of a few.”

 She gives him a once-over, but it’s entirely playful. Vena doesn’t mind in the least. Now that the bidding part is done, he basically just has a nice date planned with a pretty stranger - not a bad situation at all.

 They chat a bit more. Working out dates and times; Ana admits she does have a swimsuit, and when he tries to talk her into a shopping trip anyway, she demures a little. Which is fine; they can have their beach date and go from there, in the end. One of his clients is an Anna, so he puts her into his contacts as Dalish Ana. Which seems a little dry. Vena supposes he’ll have to come up with something more fun, when the inspiration strikes.

 “Do you like to dance?” he asks, for the meanwhile. The music’s not loud, but it’s still pretty good; and a few couples have tentatively made their way onto the dance floor.

 Ana looks at him.

 There’s a pleasantly flirtatious glint in her eye.

 “Why not?” she agrees.