velvet, silk, mink, couture, champagne, alliance (zi)

In the wizarding world there were always conflicts. A society where every member has the ability to perform astounding acts that defy a humans natural abilities is bound to be difficult to maintain. The fragile balance of the world was maintained by carefully established understandings and historic precedence. Now that the revolution had come and gone a new order was installed and for now reigning rather effectively over society. The government in place was friendly towards all those with magical abilities, regardless of blood and was at least trying to appear to crack down heavily on the dark arts. They had jailed quite a few Death Eaters, the ones that refused to renounce their ways, and were at least threatening those with ties to the organization with punishment. However their attempts to curb the dark arts were proving less successful. With the dissolution of the sudden economy established by and for the dark arts there was of course an expansion of the black market and crime. Power within the wizarding world was changing and while those who held the purse strings would always have a large say in the progression of any society there was a notable shift away from the power of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families.

This was of course something that concerned members of the oldest, purest, and wealthiest families in Britian. At least something that concerned Farren Abercrombie, the heir apparent of one of the smallest but most influential families in the British Isles. With their vast wealth, great property holdings, and their monopoly on publishing in Europe there were few families that rivaled the Abercrombies. However the war and her mother's part in the war had tarnished them and as the only heir of age in the family Farren was concerned about her foothold in society being loosened. After the war she and all the others had been too frightened to be concerned about this. Eveything then was focused on survival. Now she was thriving and it was time to figure out if it was possible for her society, the best of the best, to regain some of the foot hold they appeared to be losing.

Farren was not particularly political. Nor did she consider herself any kind of activist or organizer. But she was deeply concerned with the security of her station and family. Since the dawn or wizards forming organized society those with the purest blood and most heritage had ruled either directly or in directly and now, with that in jeopardy, she felt the time had come to see if anything could be done about it. Alliances that were once solidified by a Dark Mark were thrown to the wind and understandings among families about the order of society had been forgotten. It was a free for all and she was greatly displeased by it and very worried. It seemed that though they gathered for society events and huddled together at parties that now included wealthy but lesser wizards they did not speak of these changes. Even though they weren't in jail they were scared. The idea of organizing or openly supporting each other, the old guard, was too risky still. Farren though was new to the game, her father was too shattered by her mother's passing to manage such relationships and her Grandfather was too old to care. So she'd decided to touch base with a few peers. Three peers to be exact, the only three people in all of England she regarded as her true equals and peers. She had no real motive for the meetings, she just wanted to test the waters and make sure that the four families of England were all still on the same page and that her peers were still allies, just in case.

Not being a great mastermind Farren wasn't sure how to go about this. It wasn't like she was trying to organize a movement but she felt meetings between the heirs apparent of the wealthiest families in England could easily be perceived the wrong way. From what she knew all of their parents, if not them, were Death Eaters. With the Ministry constantly haunting her the last thing she needed was to be seen meeting with the three most powerful DE children. The first two she had in mind would be easy to find and speak with as she already trusted them deeply and was fairly certain they would share her concerns. There was one though that Farren was unsure of. She'd never been close to him and though their social circle was the same they rarely made contact. He'd been three years ahead of her in school and hardly had any interest in the scrawy, awkward girl she'd been then. Though she was somewhat close with his cousin she rarely spoke to him or saw him. He was not as much into parties and society events it seemed. She would certainly recognize him at a gathering but they were merely acquaintances. So with some help from her black market connections she'd drummed up enough information on him to arrange a plan.

Though there was little she found out about him it was at least apparent that Zachary Incarnadine was a man of taste. It was late fall and thus it was the perfect time for collecting new formal wear and heavier pieces for the impending winter and the always busy holiday season. If there was one place Farren would never lose her clout it was in the fashion world. At sixteen she'd scandalized all of society by posing for photos for Pierre Dumas, the most famous wizard designer in Paris. Since then she'd only increased her influence in the fashion world. Apart from being the designers muse and the fashion darling of society she actively socialized with the fashion set in Paris. So finding out that Mr. Incarnadine had booked an appointment at the Dumas boutique in the heart of wizarding Paris had been no trouble at all.

The plan was simple enough. The multistory boutique was exclusive enough to not be particularly crowded at this time of day and it was easy enough to get Pierre Dumas himself to agree to let her hold a private meeting on the top floor in part of the ladies boutique. Prior to her arrival her security wizards had sweeped the floor and magically protected if for her privacy. After their sweep Farren had arrived and been escorted to the empty floor. She'd chatted briefly with her old friend Pierre and then a tray of champagne and macaroons was served and she was left to wait. Toward the end of his appointment the man would be invited to see something new, something exclusive, something couture, just for him. The sales girl would escort him to the elevator and send him to Farren's floor. The doors would open and amongst the black, white, and grey of the room would be Farren waiting for him. Her long couture gown flattered her impossibly tall, lithe frame perfectly. Heirloom diamonds were draped across her chest, making the plunging neckline somewhat less scandalous. A fox fur stole was draped through her arms, hanging loosely around her shoulders not because she was cold indoors but just because she loved the luxurious comfort of the elegant fur draped around her. As was typical her hair was pulled up in a tousled, inherently sexy, updo with an elegant hat perched atop it. She was elegant, stunning even with her striking features and impeccable style.

Champagne flute in hand she stood by the window looking out onto the street below.  Witches and wizards with packages were hurrying about their daily routines oblivious to anyone around them. She was somewhat uneasy about this because she was not exactly sure what she should say or do. The uneasiness that grated at her nerves and ultimately her sanity everyday was reaching a fever pitch though and she needed to know she was not alone. The tranquil notes of Satie trickled through the room from the enchanted piano in the corner and she was somehow comforted by that, at least the designer and his team knew her tastes well. She was at least comfortable here surrounded by gorgeous custom creations and finery the likes of which most people never knew. It would be weird seeing this boy...well now she supposed he was a man. It had been a long time, certainly since before the war.

She wondered if he remembered her from those days, proud, stubborn, and the belle of every ball. She'd been Declan O'Dwyer's darling and the biggest outcast at Hogwarts simultaneously. As the war came out into the open, into full war, she'd collapsed though. Her break up and subsequent downward spiral were well documented in the press.  The death of her closest friends and family had been widely publicized and news of Farren herself had fizzled as she'd stayed on lock down throughout the worst of the war. As the dust had settled she'd risen, with her family name, from the ashes though. She made charitable appearances, her face was once again on the cover of fashion magazines, she was being groomed into the image of being a cunning business woman, and a year before when her mother had passed away from prolonged illness she'd been the picture of an heiress inheriting the full weight of her crown. Farren Abercrombie wasn't a little girl and she wasn't to be trifled with, something she exuded with everything she did.

Boutique Images (ideas)

Zachary stirred groggily as his alarm screetched its wake-up call. Blinking at the clock in somnolent disbelief, he reached for and bashed it until it stopped making the horrific sound that had disturbed his slumber. It was barely 10am; not a civilised time at all. What time had he gone to bed? Four hours ago? Five? Couldn't have been much more than that. The gentleman of leisure was very much a night owl, and didn't often see this side of morning nor at first did he remember why on earth it was he had set himself such an early alarm and so he pulled his goose down duvet closer around him and rolled back over to settle down for another few hours sleep.

Just as he was dozing back off though, he was rudely awakened by a horrific sight peering with good natured wretchedness into Zachary's left eye, the lid to which had been yanked open by the leathery apparition that faced him. "Master said to make sure he gets up today," the house elf nodded enthusiastically, albeit with the slight trepidation of one who was afraid of the repercussions of doing his job properly. "Master has to go to paris". Paris! Of course! Pierre Dumas had owled him with the offer of first refusal on a couple of pieces he'd just created, and invited him for a fitting to see whether any of them suited. The newly awakened man grumbled something incomprensible at his elf, which was taken by Girvin to be thanks and a dismissal owing to the fact that he had not been thrown across the room for interrupting his owner's rest.

Dragging himself out of bed, he negotiated his uncooperative, gangling arms into the housecoat that his diligent house elf had hung on the peg by his bed, managed on the third attempt to both of his feet into his slippers, and then padded through to his private sitting room where he sparked up a morning cigarette whilst he supped on the cup of tea that had awaited him on the coffee table.  To say that the man was not at his best in the morning was like saying that The Dark Lord hadn't been all too keen on the diluting of magical blood. Zachary Incarnadine needed nicotine, caffeine and some more magical drugs in his system before he could face the world. Breakfast, however, didn't feature into his awakening routine at all, beyond gallons of tea and a number of cigarettes inversely proportional to the amount of sleep he had managed. And rarely a biscuit if he needed the sugar.  But nothing more than that, certainly.

Whilst he drank his tea, which Girvin replenished as required (quite frequently given the early hour), and smoked his sobranies, Zachary thumbed through the morning's newspapers.  He had subscriptions to a wide range publications of varying quality from Britain, Italy, France, Germany and Russia. Whilst the Prophet seemed to be improving in quality and substance these days, their pesky habit of fact-checking meant that lots of valuable gossip didn't get through to him so the information broker who who made it his business to know as much about everything and everybody as was magically possible had trashy celebrity magazines (which in no small part read like a who's who of his associates and relatives, of course) and curious publications like the Quibbler to weed out useful rumours and unconfirmed facts from also.  He normally spent at least a good couple of hours slowly becoming more human as he absorbed the days news and hearsay before having to concern himself with preparing to leave his fortress of solitude but he had to be on a train by midday if he was going to make his appointment at Dumas' boutique, so after he felt he was competant to dress himself he made his way back through to his closet and picked out an ensemble in purple, gold and grey that would be relatively quick to get in and out of.  Breaking from his usual habits of shunning anything but robes he had selected a mauve damask frock coat with gold detailing, over a white shift and grey waistcoat. This was paired with a pair of white culottes interwoven with some gold thread for a slight shimmer, and a pair of white stockings. A pair of dark grey ankle boots co-ordinated with his waistcoat and he changed the silver buckle on them for a gold one to match the rest of the outfit.

After finishing preening himself - sorting his hair, checking his nails, taking his daily doses of assorted potions - Zi dropped by the sitting room again to pick up some of the more reputable papers so he could work his way through them as he travelled through the Alps and across France. (He could not be seen reading gossip magazines or nonsense like the Quibbler in public, naturally.) Satchel slung over her shoulder, carrying the papers and some of his most necessary potions supplies in case of emergencies, he secured his private rooms and upon reaching the antechamber to his apartments activated the enchantments in there too before apparating to the train station, collecting his ticket and locating the compartment he had booked the exclusive use of for the length of the journey.

On his arrival, the designer received him warmly and exchanged pleasantries over a flute of champagne as he talked the young Incarnadine through the winter collection.  It was all very pleasant, but a bit mainstream for Zi's own tastes. Nothing particularly jumped out at him, but there were some sevicable ensembles for a night on the town, which a couple of assistants helped him into to try out for fit and style. Really though, was itching to get upstairs to the inner sanctum of the boutique and see the new creations, one of which apparently had been made particularly with the tall, wiry man of ghostly complexion in mind. Finally that time came and he was escorted to the lift, champagne still in hand and sent upstairs.

As the doors opened, Zachary was not met by the proprietor of the establishment as he had expected (Dumas had excused himself to take care of another special client whilst Zi was having the items he'd picked out fitted to him properly), but by a tall and slim vision of elegance and grace. "Miss Abercrombie," he smiled the facile smile of a member of the gentry having to acknowledge that he did indeed have peers as he emerged from the lift, "This is a pleasant surprise. I must assume you are not the exclusive item exquisitely designed and painstakingly crafted especially for me," he was slowly but flowingly circling the room as he spoke in a refined and measured voice; Farren was at the centre of his locus, and his gaze travelled down her dress then back up to meet her eye "though exquisite you most certainly are looking today. Is that a Dumas original? The stitching and drape is divine."

Having completed enough of a circuit to take in most of his surroundings (unfamiliar with the ladies department as he was), Zi realised that there was a conspicuous absence of any male garments intended for him. Slightly crestfallen, as he had been excited by the idea of bespoke couture, he did not let his disappointment show in his face but did allow the newly occasioned curiosity to bubble through to his expression. He of course remembered that a number of years ago, Farren Abercrombie had caused quite the stir with her modelling photographs and surmised (failing to remember at this temporal distance and not having refreshed his memory on the Abercrombie family recently due to lack of need) that it must have been M. Dumas for whom she posed. This was then, no chance meeting. So why had the doyenne of British polite society laid in waiting for Zachary, who was somewhat of a black sheep from that scene? Only time would tell. Neither he nor his family had not crossed the Abercrombies as far as he was aware, so danger seemed unlikey but was always possible where more than one of the purest blooded British wizarding families met. He proceeded with caution but carried on with the social niceties, dropping into a slightly more familiar vernacular since families at the very top of the social ladder needn't uphold the pretense as much to one another as to the lower classes. "I see Pierre broke out the better bubbly for you." He had noticed an almost undetectable difference in colour and effervescence  between the glass in his hand and those on the table. "May I?" He didn't bother waiting for an answer before swapping his current glass for one containing the more refined vintage, and sipping it. "Ah, much better. So Miss Abercrombie. What brings you to Paris?"

As the doors of the lift opened Farren turned to watch her special guest arrive. She smiled though only because she was not sure what else to do, it was not a particularly inviting gesture. Truth be told she was rather nervous about this idea. She had no idea what to do or how to do it, merely knew what needed to be achieved. "Mr. Incarnadine," she said with a gracious nod of her head as was typical in polite greetings. As he began to move into the room she watched him from her spot at the window interjecting as he addressed her with a slightly bemused tone. "I am -not- especially crafted for you," she took a sip of her champagne and smirked, "I think that may come as disappointing news but even more disappointing is the news that nothing in fact was crafted especially for you today." Her tone was more flirtatious than insulting but in her own way she was making it clear who arranged this meeting and that anything taking place here would be under her control. Back to the window she watched as his eyes surveyed her from head to foot and she stared back at him as if she didn't notice. "Indeed, you have a good eye, Pierre did make this for me, he does quite a lot of work for me..." she said letting her statement imply that today was very much arranged.

As he zeroed in on the table between two small settees which held her champagne she stepped away from the window a pace or two. His comment made her grin a bit more genuinely. With her hand she gestured at the bottle lazily inviting him to do as he pleased with it, "Yes well Pierre is most familiar with my favorite vintage and even more so familiar with what it takes to keep me happy." She watched him help himself to the bubbly and thoughtfully sipped at her own glass. Once he had poured himself a glass she stepped closer to him her hand resting lightly on the back of the settee closest to the window as she set her empty glass on the table beside it. "Well," she said as she started to address his question, "I think you can surmise what brought me to Paris today."

She glanced down at her hand that rest on the back of the settee and bit her bottom lip softly as if she was considering what to say. Farren was if nothing else a master at playing coy to get her way with males. Everything was calculated, if not consciously than through years of trial and error at easily manipulating how people, particularly men perceived her. What she wanted was simple enough, non-threatening but clearly established control over the situations around her at all times. Her demeanor drew people in, she was graceful, assertive, and her stature and features lent her an air of power. There was something to her that was an enigma, she was widely known and yet hardly anyone knew her, she was mysterious. Her history of her tumultuous personal life was public knowledge from her mother's imprisonment and subsequent life long battle with mental illness to her devastating love life lent her the advantage of seeming emotionally wounded and fragile. Together these facets made her captivating, even if she was despised, she was captivating and she was very familiar with playing those cards to her distinct advantage.

"Zachary," she began her voice low, "I think we can both understand that the last sixteen months has been a trying time." She looked up and held his gaze with her bright eyes, her lips pursed. It was explicitly clear that she was referring to all events related to the end of the war. "While we have never been particularly close I think we can understand the trials of this last year and a half and those that we still face. Life is not as easy as it once was and I suspect it may never be." As she spoke she was acutely aware of his body language, watching carefully for any kind of sign that something she said triggered a negative reaction or doubt. All her life she'd been a public spectacle for her family so speaking in a manner that conveyed her point without direct accusations or tell tale phrases was second nature.

"Perhaps you're curious as to why I arranged for this to happen here," she arched her eyebrow slightly and casually glanced at the racks of designer gowns to her left. "Personally, I feel most at ease in Paris. My Grandmother grew up here. My mother spent a significant amount of her life in Paris, I have always owned a home here and visit often. I find Paris incredibly....liberating." In a smooth, graceful movement she seated herself on the settee and leaned back into it for a moment before taking another flute of champagne from the tray next to the bottle. Sipping it lightly she slid to the edge of the cushion and perched there watching him thoughtfully. "I think, that as individuals with a great deal in common and I presume a great many of the same concerns we should make a more concerted effort to know each other. It would seem to me that in times like these it is more important to look forward. I suspect that if were to develop a more intimate understand we may find that there are a great many things we could achieve for our mutual interest."

Zachary's thin lips drew themselves into an amused smirked that danced at the fringe of familiarity - acknowledging of the high maintenance persona through which Farren Abercrombie presented herself to the world, but garnering a deeper understanding thereof at once.  He had never really paid the girl much heed in the past, assuming her to be just one more spoilt diva who coasted along on her looks and privilege.  Sharing a glass of fine champagne with her now though, in a meeting at which she had made happen without arousing the slightest suspicion in her mark, he was quickly reconsidering that assessment.  Farren was clearly a much more cunning and resourceful young woman than she let on (perhaps to make her life easier?) and her tastes in the finer things in life - clothes, champagne and company, he allowed himself the indulgence -  suggested that they had more in common than he ever had suspected.

"Why Farren, I had no idea you cared that much," Zi said playfully as he swept aside the tails on his frock coat and gracefully settle himself down onto one of the sofas. He back in the seat so as to be upright enough to rest his arms on its back, right arm bent such that his champagne rested near his mount, left arm outstretched. He sat with one booted ankle resting on his other knee, body both alert and poised as it staked his claim to dominion over his personal space yet apparently settled and comfortable. His body expressed his current frame of mind - guardedly open, his greater appreciation and respect for the woman that had lured him here contributing to his mounting intrigue as to the purpose of this meeting.

Watching the woman closely, he noticed her plump lip tautened by the teeth that held it and she hesitated.  It made her look pensive, reticent and almost nervous, but the student of behaviour felt it was just too perfect - knowing that the woman had modelled extensively, she clearly had complete control of her features. Her hesitation was expertly rehearsed, but left her just a touch too beautiful for genuine contemplation. Nevertheless, he was intrigued, so he would play along for now, allow Farren to delicately pick her way through her performance rather than risk upsetting her and not getting to hear what she had summoned him five hundred miles for.

As Farren said his name, Zachary's look rose to meet her own - pleasantries were over and it was down to business. The woman was heiress presumptive of the Abercrombie family and commanded the same respect and the Incarnadine Heir himself expected. He kept his eyes on those of the woman doing the speaking, his face fixed in a picture of attention. He listened to the words she spoke, but more closely to those things not said. Supping on his champagne just enough to be polite, but pacing himself so that he did not succumb to the deleterious effects of the alcohol, Zachary listened as Farren lamented the changes to the long established pecking order in Britain.  It was true that the ministry was becoming rather more effective in its operations which didn't play that well into the hands of the grand old families, though having people on the inside certainly helped stay ahead of them.  It was also true that societal attitudes has almost succumbed to a transvaluation of values and now rather than muggleborns being reviled and looked upon with suspicion it was the purebloods that were outcast. However, these changes in Britain weren't really impinging on his life in Italy all too much. Nevertheless, he had interests in Britain that could not be ignored and the families had to lend each other a hand when in need.

When his hostess moved on to explaining why he had been summoned to a different country for the meeting, the fashion loving wizard uncrossed his legs and leaned in toward her, paying slighting more heed. His gaze followed Farren's as she looked at the wares Dumas had created and felt a returning pang of disappointment that he wasn't getting a new couture piece himself today, a disappointment he allowed to flash briefly across his face to make it clear that due to her deceit the Abercrombie girl had some legwork to do to get him back on side.  As she carried on, he nodded in understanding - the model obviously felt about Paris and he did about Neroli. He did not vocalise this yet however, and whilst the girl sat down across from him and paused, regarding him he mainted a blank expression and did not fill the silence - encouraging her to carry on and get to the point.

After she had finished her opening soliloquy, Zachary gave a few moments pause himself whilst he collected his own thoughts. To facilitate this, he pour himself a new glass of Champagne, before taking to his feet - he thought better that way and preferred to wander whilst speaking. "A more intimate understanding?" he emphasised the adjective by drawing it out and inflecting it slightly differently. "My my, Farren. You are a tease.  That kind of talk is not necessary to curry my favour.  I am more than able to recognise an mutually beneficial opportunity for alliance without any help from my hormones." His tone was just curt enough to make it clear he did not appreciate any attempts at sexual manipulation, but also allowing levity to shine through.  He was amused by the attention rather than offended, and didn't want Farren to think she'd blown it. "I understand your feelings about Paris - I think I feel the same way about my own adoptive city.  It's just so refreshing not to be under the constant scrutiny of one's family isn't it." He wandered slowly around behind the sofa on which the woman sat, meaning that if she wanted to keep him in view, she would be forced to turn her body.  "The changes of which you speak - they are troubling, most definitely. Though I can't say that I have felt their repercussions too strongly in Italy. Still, we do have a good deal in common as you say and I'm sure we could come to some kind of arrangement."

He strolled casually back around so that he was in front of Farren and took a sip from his flute. "I have been thinking for a few months now that it was time I got more involved in goings on in good old Blighty. I fear I have been away from the social scene for far too long and that I am now at a point in my life where I appreciate it's purpose. I popped back to London for that ministry ball a few weeks ago, and I couldn't help but feel that the... exclusivity of the evening circuit have become somewhat... diluted over the past few years." His expression demonstrated his feelings on this - not disgust for that would be too strong a feeling to waste on the underclasses. He was, rather, disappointed and he wistfully drained another mouthful of champagne to allow Farren the opportunity to draw the correct conclusions from the arrangement of his features. "It's such a shame that the old guard" (it was clear he meant the generation that headed the upper eschelons of society) "have allowed it to reach this point. Why, I was lamenting such to Morrie just the other day. I'm glad to hear we're not the only ones to feel that we need to intervene somehow."  With his feelings on the matter demonstrated, Zachary let the call to action hang in the air and yielded the floor the seated heiress.

She felt somewhat more relaxed and didn't feel the least bit out of line glaring at him regarding his hormone comment. "Now, now Mr. Incarnadine, I meant intimate in the personal sense, as friends, not the physical sense. I'm aware of my affect on men but I assure you this is not a  case in which I need such things to sway someone's opinion," she was curt but there was something playfully mocking about her tone as she interjected.

As he spoke she listened thoughtfully mentally cataloging everything he said. He was approaching this with as much nuance as herself however now that he clearly agreed with her she felt she could be much more forth coming. Raised among the gentile she was always polished but once she was sure she was comfortable with someone and felt free to more clearly express her views there was an undeniable sense of impishness to her. Ever her mother's daughter she was seductive and alluring yet somehow extremely capable of presenting herself with an sense of authority. She didn't mince words nor waste them. She was clearly thinking something far more detailed behind her carefully selected words and the glimmer in her eye made it clear that much more was at work than a pretty face with fancy manners. Living up to both her family name and Hogwarts house it was clear that lounging here, champagne glass casually dangling from her hand, the young heiress had a scheme afoot.

Watching as he rejoined her Farren studied him quite intensely. She didn't know him well enough to completely trust him but he seemed genuine enough in his opinion that she felt comfortable enough to move forward with her ideas. The worst case scenario was that he said no he didn't want to be a part of it. Nothing she had to say today was incriminating and certainly there was nothing interesting enough to catch the ear of gossip papers. Though she felt quite confident now of his standing she didn't want to hastily jump into her plan. Instead she leaned forward and poured herself another glass of champagne, sipping it thoughtfully, watching him over the rim of the glass from under long black lashes.

"I was hoping you'd feel exactly as you have expressed," she finally said in her same measured tone. "I am surprised you've already spoken to Morrison about this but a relief most certainly. I have talked to a close friend of my family. Their heir, somewhat my junior, is similarly concerned though slightly less enthusiastic about improving the situation," she paused taking another sip of her drink thinking about the casual conversations she'd had with her old friend who was even more war weary than she.

Tapping her finger idly against her glass she cocked her head slightly, half thinking, half considering Zi. "To be honest I haven't fully formulated a plan. We are a society, perhaps even more than that. We are almost a tribe at this point though I loathe using such a primitive term. I think we should start by assembling the heirs of the families. I think we have a solid four to begin with but we'll need more voices. At this point I think loyalty, dedication to the culture, and blood status supersede socioeconomic class...though clearly someone so far down the chain they have no influence would be useless but...." she  gave a slight shrug dismissively tossing her long mane over her shoulder, "We have to start somewhere."

Taking a sip and setting the flute of golden liquid back on the table she looked over at Zi, that impish light in her eyes starting to come through at last. "We should have a summit of sorts. Take into account all areas of politics, finance, business, and social matters that concern our circle. Our families are the ones that created this world. We cannot allow our way of life to be pushed into obsolescence. Together we are stronger than on our own. I honestly am not sure how we'd combat this cultural shift but we must in the least preserve our histories and provide support to those that do."

Reflective she looked across the room towards the window looking out onto Paris. The world was changing, society was slipping, and she had no idea if they could stop it. Somehow she knew it was unlikely they would but it wouldn't hurt to have an alliance in place as they tried to either fix things or adapt to the world they'd been forced into. "I just don't want to be the generation that sat by while our entire history is brought to it's knees. I think that is where we start."

Zachary didn't know Farren all too well. He knew her by reputation of course, and he knew plenty about her family and their history, but he'd seen very little of the woman's core personality. Naturally, they had exchanged pleasantries at balls and other functions, but Zi was hardly himself then and he couldn't imagine that Farren would let herself relax at those kinds of events either.  And so he was pleased when his playful remarks were received in good humour.  It meant he could relax a bit and allow his own special brand of charm out to play a little.  Of course the Abercrombie was still a respectable lady and a canny one at that, so he still had to be on his guard, but allowing himself to appear more at ease and less uptight would help to build a rappor with his newfound ally.

Although Farren's comment about her surprise ranckled somewhat he did not let his face show the slightest twitch of displeasure. Did Farren really think she was the only upperclass pureblood that had the political acuity to be concerned about the current state of affairs or the vision to try to reshape them in their favour? Still, he had to admit that she was organised and so jumping onto her bandwagon at this point in time was tactically the right move to make. He'd join her along for the ride so long as it suited him, but he did have a sneaking suspicion that sooner or later their goals might diverge. But until such a time as her endgame became apparent, being on her side and having ready access to the rest of the families was certainly a good way to keep his hand in until such a time as he had a use for them.

The vagueness with which the conniving woman introduced her plans, and referred to family friends and a 'solid four' families was infuriating, not that the Incarnadine heir would have expected anything else.  Discretion and a certain type of loyalty and solidarity demanded that this sort of circuitous talk was used.  It was just difficult to figure out who said family friend might be - all the pureblood families were close. He smiled in polite interest as his mind ran through some possibilities in his head, thinking through the comparative ages of their heirs and families with confused loyalties or politics. Politics were a difficult one post war and having been away from the scene for so long, Zi had to rely on what tidbits his parents had been feeding him.  He made a mental note to find some time to make it back to Britain and spend a few days with the family pensieve.

Zachary chose not to fill the pregnant pause whilst Farren was expounding her thoughts. He was still getting the measure of her, and trying to lead someone without knowing what buttons to push and which subjects to avoid was a dangerous game.  Instead he just lounged on the settee and when Farren caught his eye, he smiled with a glimmer in his eye that betrayed his anticipation of what she had planned.  Much as Zi may have acted outraged when he deemed Farren to be flirting with him, his own body language was very much geared towards giving the impression that flirting was not completely off the table. He let his eyes gently drift over Farren's form as they sat there considering one another, the corner of his mouth ever-so-slightly upturned in appreciation. And he increased the frequency with which he raised his glass to his mouth, ostensibly to moisen his lips. It was only subtle actions like this he made though - there was no outright oogling of Farren and certainly no suggestive sips - just understated and apparently unconscious actions that suggested his hormones may in fact be of use to the model after all.

When the woman started speaking again though, he pulled himself to attention and clearly was interested in what she was saying.  She claimed to have yet to fully form her plan, but Zi suspected she had much more of one than she let on.  The temptation to get inside her head and see just how much she had planned, and exactly how he featured in it, was very strong but he knew that his ability at legilimency was not anywhere near advanced for this not to be noticed so he had to exercise patience.

Instead he fell back to listening to the words she said and to those that went unsaid. Four families. Abercombie, Incarnadine, Thorne (Zi just assumed that if he was involved in this endeavour, Morrison would be too) and another. Well it was a good start, but he couldn't help but nod in agreement at the need for more voices.  Associating with the lower classes though? He sneered slightly at that idea, not because it was a particularly repgunant thought to him, but the necessity of it offended him.  Still, Farren had clearly thought this through and she seemed to be suggesting that the core of polite society would obviously be more important than the plebs that they would drag into the bright lights of their world.

The idea of a summit though, that really caught his imagination. His brain immediately kicked into a higher gear as he started to think how he could insinuate himself into the heart of this idea. The word summit conjured images of interactions and structures that Zi was very much at home with and his relish at the idea must have been apparent. He allowed Farren to finish her thought, and then out of respect for the weight of the subject paused briefly so as not to come across as too irreverent and eager.

"A summit sounds like a marvellous idea." He was making a concerted effort not to appear overly gleeful, lest Farren thought that this was a game to him. "I have the perfect venue, if you think you could persuade people that an Italian retreat is a good plan.  I have just had my residence refitted and the security measures I have had installed are second to none. We would have total privacy. And I'm certain that Morrison would be able to discreetly get everyone out of Britain and into Italy without any third party noticing so many notables gathering."

He allowed himself a brief daydream of his boardroom filled with upperclass and influential purebloods, himself standing at the head of the table with Farren.  He smiled in a self-satisfied manner at the thought. "I could not agree more that our strength lies in our connections. And between us I am sure we have the means to readdress the balance of power.  It will of course have to be subtle, but our control of the media, policy-makers that we can influence. There is enough to work with I'm sure."

Zi let his own gaze wander until he was looking out the window across the skyline of Paris, and another thought struck him. "What about our international kin?  I have some strong links with a couple of families on the continent, and some sway with a few more. Whilst I realise the cultural shift we are combatting is largely confined to Britain, our foreign counterparts have plenty to lose as our own interests are damaged.  I'm sure there are ways we could put them to good use..."

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OOC: Sorry - I don't think you have ended up with that much to respond to here, but I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer. Their conversation seems to be coming to a natural lull though anyway.  Should we wrap this one up over our next couple of repleis and actually try to assemble the rest of the heirs for a thread?