It's just the way we are. --(Title Pending)[Murdoch/Faith]

Fast forward several decades into the future. Corporations have taken over society even more so than they did half a century ago. Everything is branded and made into a part of the media and technology has made continual leaps and bounds. Corporations now have so much control, in fact, that they have more power over society than governments and heads of powerful corporations are actually considered to be members of government. Naturally, as technology becomes more prominent in society, so too do the corporations that manufacture and distribute this technology. Of all the powerful, multi-billion dollar corporations that exist though, there is one corporation that stands taller than all of them. This absolute Godzilla of the corporate world is Abramson Industries, a company that specializes in technology. This company is so huge that it is impossible to go a single day without using a piece of their technology. From the self-charging batteries that are inside of your household remote, to the voice identification locks on doors, to the filtering system through nearly every city in the entire continent, to the nuclear weapons used to fuel the wars overseas. Abramson Industries is everywhere. How does this concern you? Well, you are the artistic, free-spirited daughter of the owner of a company on the eastern side of the world (country of your choosing). Your father, as well as being the head of a corporation, is also an important member of parliament. Now, the only thing stopping Abramson Industries from totally taking over the eastern side of the world as well, is their lack of stability in government. A union of your two families would be beneficial for both corporations and so you've been arranged to be married to the only child of the head of Valdemar Industries, a cold, emotionless, intellect who has spent his entire life being groomed to take over the company after his father. How will someone as passionate, artistic and free-spirited as you ever be able to be with someone like him? It must be completely impossible, right?

Start: Your family is visiting the Valdemar family for a few months in order to finalize plans for merging the two companies and get you and the Valdemar son acquainted. Beginning with you arriving at their mansion in the city (which takes up about two and a half full blocks).

I'm so sorry for the delay, but I can't say no to my mom :X Posting quickly!

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General Information—
Name: Mira La’Mar
Meaning: Name Meaning: Mira is Sanskrit for Prosperous. While La’Mar actually originated in meaning of “Dweller by the water”
Gender: Female
Race: Caucasian
Ethnic Background: Mira was born in America. Her grandmother was a French lady and her Grandfather lived in the United Kingdom. Her father grew up in the United Kingdom, and now has his foot in the governmental system there. For that, Mira moved when she was very young, only being there long enough to soak up the dialect. When her grandmother moved to their home to live with Mira and her father (Mira’s grandfather passed away) when she was young, she got very close to her grandmother and fell in love with the stories she would tell her.
Age: 22
Birthplace: Denver, Colorado

Physical Information—
Physical Appearance:

Spoiler:

Eye Color: A sharp green

Spoiler:

Hair Color: Black
Hair Style: Mira’s hairstyle is a very simple cut that can be easily manipulated into braids or buns or any style Mira might want. (It is put up often)

Spoiler:

Height: 5’6”
Weight: 118Lbs
Build: Mira is just as most would describe her. She’s the young, beautiful daughter of an corporate giant. She has long legs that meet a curvaceous body (She takes after her mother). Her arms are quite flimsy though from lack of exercise.
Distinguishing Marks: Mira has a small birthmark on her stomach as well as an honorary tattoo on her hand. It is in the shape of a star, and she got it when she turned eighteen, in the memory of her mother. She wants to get one more, but she’s not sure if she’ll ever get around the getting it. She’s not sure if there’s a person that can duplicate her art in the way she wants it. Sure the machines could so it, but where’s the imperfection all art contains?
Strengths: Mira has very strong legs from wearing and walking in heels every day.
Weaknesses: Mira’s arms are weak. She doesn’t do heavy lifting and she doesn’t hit the gym really.

Clothing Information—
Likes: Mira likes a variety of clothing types. Some of those include: Heels, high waist skirts, Corsets, and skinny jeans.
Starting outfit: Click here
Piercings: Has small dark studs in her ears, and had her lip pierced (See Picture).
Other: Mira has quite the obsession with clothing. Creating new designs and outfits is something that Mira prides herself in. Fashion is just a type of art to her. When there’s not a shortage of money, then there’s no reason not to express yourself. For that, Mira changes often, and enjoys every second of it. (Will be specified)

Personality/Other Information—
Family: Mira was the only child of and Andrew and Selina La’Mar. Mira’s father is a corporate giant, and government leader. Mira’s mother on the other hand was diagnosed with a terminal disease and died in Late fourth grade year for Mira. A year or so after, Mira’s grandmother, Agale, moved to in with them because of her husband’s passing. Soon, she took the role of Mira’s mother, trying to bring her up like her mother might have wanted. Agale allowed Mira to draw, and write to continue with the girls imagination. It’s one of the reasons that Mira is so artistic now.
Personality: Most would say that Mira has a strong heart within her. She’s a true born leader but she’s hell-bent on her art and having fun with her life. For that reason, her father can’t seem to get her to realize that this whole marriage thing is a good idea. She doesn’t want to be tied down yet, she wants to be able to do what she wants.

“Mira, will you pay attention” Father tries to reach for the drawing pad in my hand. He had been talking, and apparently I had to be looking at him to be listening. His arm isn’t fast enough to reach across the car before I pull the pad away. I don’t like him looking at my art before I want him to. He thinks that I will continue drawing, and I can feel him glaring at me from the other side of the car. “If you had the electronic pad, I’d just lock it” He speaks quietly, watching in silence at me for a moment. Yes, I could have been using the newest art pad that was out on the market, but I wasn’t. I enjoyed paper far more than I could enjoy anything else. It was the natural way, and I enjoyed natural.

“Mister La’Mar?” She driver questions from the front seat to get father’s attention. There’s a pause before he looks away from me and I continue drawing for just a moment. I wasn’t being a stubborn child-no- I was just too caught up in the art that flowed onto the paper.

“We will be arriving in less than five minutes” With that, I stopped drawing a moment. Five minutes and we would be caught up with more of father’s business associates.

“Now Mira, this family is very prominent in the world right now, you hear? I want you to be that angel I know you can be” I look away from the pad a moment, giving a quiet giggle. I pull myself up, looking to father.

“You know that you say that every time you are on business, right?” I question him, watching the reaction I might receive. There isn’t one, and he looks down to the suit that he’s wearing a moment, trying to straighten himself up. It’s been a long ride, but somehow we’ve been able to keep ourselves looking decent. “I just want you to remember” He speaks simply before looking back to me.

“I still can’t believe that you are forcing me to do this.” The words roll easily from my lips, only barely being thought about before they come out. He sighs, and I can see his jaw tighten. “You’re going to stay here, and you are going to enjoy it. We have already spoken about this before. I’m not going to be negotiating anything with you. You will meet these people and you will not complain.” I watch him as he speaks. He’s always strong with his words, but this time, his voice hardens more, showing me that he means exactly what he’s saying.
“I still don’t want to do this” The words pass from my lips as I turn back around so my feet are no longer resting on the seat. It’s only then that he actually notices what I am wearing. He gives me quite the harsh look and I roll down the window, letting fresh air roll into the cabin.

“You couldn’t find any other shirt?” He questions me with a sigh and I roll my eyes. He brings a hand to rub his temples. He’s nervous. I can tell by the lines that have formed across his forehead that he knows how much this means. I can’t keep from giggling at the sight. It wasn’t like him to worry like this, but I could see why he might. So many questions were running through his head. After all, I was his only child. From what I had heard, the man we were meeting was…different to say the least. I shake my head. That’s why he was worrying so much. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as we get closer to the destination. He was worrying about me, and not the money.

“Mister La’Mar, we have arrived” The driver speaks, looking back for only a moment before crawling to a stop in front of a security gate. A man steps out of the small box, walking over. It wasn’t that hard to see that he wasn’t surprised. He knew we were coming.

“Mira, roll up the window.” The order is simple and strong and I obey. It was messing with my hair anyway. With the silence filling the car for a moment, I look over to father. You can see the worry on his face. That will soon be gone, and a wall will be put up. Now though, I can see everything. He looks to me a moment before trying to give me a small smile. He was trying to reassure me. It wasn’t working. I wasn’t looking forward to the next few weeks. I would mostly be stuck in a room the whole time. I hoped that I would be. I didn’t want to be forced into the company of father’s associates. I was always having to watch what I did around them.

The security guard scans the Bar Code identification the man had coded into his skin. All of our personal employees had them. Not because we forced them to, but because it was easier than keeping up with the hologram identification card. There’s a small beep and the magnetized guard railings lifted. Now, we were ready. The car slowly begins to roll forward, up the driveway and towards the large home. It is a sight. It’s not something you see every day.

“Remember, Mira, best behavior” I sigh, audibly, to show him my impatience with his words. I knew. I wasn’t a child anymore. I could understand. Soon, the car slows once more, until it’s at a complete stop.

“We have arrived” The driver speaks, just pressuring the fact that I wasn’t going to get out of this like I had hoped.

Name: Gregory Valdemar
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian, British
Age: 22
Birthplace: London, Britain

Appearance: Gregory stands at just under six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. His muscles, whilst not particularly large, are quite well toned - considering how much time he spends in the gym - and there is not an ounce of fat on him. His facial structure still looks fairly youthful, with a slightly squared, rough edge to it. He keeps himself clean-shaven, and always keeps his dark, jet black hair in a spiked hairstyle. His ice blue eyes - though they can be considered attractive - are cold and suspicious.

Strengths: He is a talented rugby player, he plays multiple instruments - the Guitar, the piano and the violin - and he has a brilliant 'poker face'. His parents put him through several martial arts when he was younger, and he has reached black belt in all three of them. He is also very, very intelligent, almost coldly calculating.

Weaknesses: He is arrogant and suspicious, not trusting anybody but himself. He doesn't have many friends, though he has plenty of sycophants, and doesn't seem to want any. Despite his unfriendliness, he does get his fair share of girls (probably the money) and he is none too thrilled about the idea of an arranged marriage.

Personality: Find out

For the home of such a rich family, the walls in this room are surprisingly bare; they're a simple beige colour, the only decorations being the mirror on one side of the rectangular room, and the business television on the other side, facing the door that lies next to the mirror. It's a fairly large room, adorned with a simple wooden table that stretches the length of the room, around which rich, high quality leather chairs are placed for the convenience of the visiting businessmen that Gregory's father frequently entertains. The rest of the house is richly adorned with swords, fans, expensive art, gilded paintings and the works, but this is the business room; it is spartan by design. It just screams, 'This man is rich because he is a businessman'. At the moment, Gregory lounges on one of the leather chairs on the right hand side of the chair at the head of the table, one leg hanging limply over the right arm and his head resting on his hand as that arm rests on the left hand side of the chair. He is regarding his father - the occupant of the chair at the head of the table - coolly and without fear. His father may be the head of the family and one of the richest men in the world, but he is still Gregory's father, and he ceased having control over him about four or five years ago.

Or so he thought. He has been told - only recently - what will be happening to him, and has been summoned to the family home to take part in this sham. He really doesn't like it; he likes his life how it is. Doing whatever he wants, whoever he wants, whenever he wants and never having to worry about anything. He's never committed any felonies or anything like that, but nor has he ever gotten a job for more than a few weeks. But now he's being told that he will stop his "womanising, selfish ways" and settle down with a girl he's never even met. He knows why it is; his father wants this political and business advantage, and is willing to sell his own son down the river to get it. A cold, calculating, ruthless move...even though he hates it, Gregory is impressed. This is bold, but for his father, bold is the order of every business transaction. Even his subtle maneuvers are bold.

"Gregory," his father says calmly as he regards his son. The same ice blue eyes that Gregory is in possession of stare back at him with amplified ambition, intelligence and presence. The angular, aged, stern face stares at him over steepled fingers, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. He doesn't like how Gregory sits or behaves, but he lets it slide most of the time. "This proposal is of great importance to me and the family. You will go through with it."
"Will I, Father?" Gregory replies, raising an eyebrow. He holds his fathers gaze, difficult as that may be at times, and doesn't allow his expression beyond that eyebrow to change, as nervous as he feels inside. "I have no feelings either way for this girl, having never met her, and I do not much like the idea of being tied down to a girl I probably won't even like just so you can come one step closer to world domination."
"Do not be so flippant, boy," he admonishes, his voice cold as bared steel, "I need not explain to you, of all people, why this deal is so important. Money does not come from thin air."
"You make it seem like it does. 'Valdemar can make money appear from anywhere,' is what most people say of you."
"Making it appear from anywhere and making it appear from nowhere are two different things."
"Regardless, I am not settling down with this girl."
"You are. There will be no argument about this."
"That's what you think."
"You will meet her, you will marry her and you will be a good husband, or I will cut you off."

That makes Gregory stop dead. Cut him off? But that means that his lifestyle would be destroyed...he has no usable skills in the job market, and he doesn't like work that doesn't immediately benefit him...he can't stand people, and he doesn't know the first thing about cooking or cleaning. If he's cut off, he will - quite literally - die very quickly. And he has no doubt about the sincerity of this threat; his father has never said anything he did not mean. He is nothing if not honest about threats and intimidation. His father notes his silence, and nods.

"You've recognised your position. Good." That is one thing about Tigras Valdemar; he can find your weakspot almost immediately, and will attack it mercilessly if he can't get what he wants through nicer means. He is a dangerous opponent, even for his son who has known him all of his life. Tigras stands up without another word, and turns to head towards the door. "You had best be on your best behavior today," he says sternly, "or you and I will be having words." And with that, he strides out of the boardroom to make his way down to the foyer to meet his guests, leaving Gregory behind in the conference room.

As soon as the car comes to the final stop, I want to get out and run. Of course, many barriers prevent me from doing so. What would happen if my heels broke? Or maybe the sprinkler system the makes sure the grass is in tip top shape gets me all wet…Neither of the ideas are appealing to me. So, as much as I want to leave, I can’t. A deep breath pulls in my lungs. I’m not nervous. No—I am compelled by nature to fight this, but I know the consequences if I do.

The driver walks around, opening the back driver side door. Of course, father will step out, and only then, will his daughter appear. He was the head, and he mattered much more. So, I just waited quietly for his head to pull up and out of the car. Then, the car door closes. I’m left in the silence of the cabin for only a few moments. The driver is rushing, quickly not to cause any of us to become impatient with him. The door is pulled open, just as quickly as fathers. One foot at a time, up and out of the car I climb. There was a routine to this. It was worked into my head so well, that I did it naturally now. So, for the time being, I could think of other things.

I grasp my drawing pad in my hands, walking quietly to father’s side. My heels strike the stone beneath us, making loud ‘click’ing sounds as I walk. It was a nice noise, and father didn’t seem to mind it. I-frankly- did not care if he minded at all. I was here, and that’s all he was going to get. I sigh, looking to him a moment before looking back. It wasn’t a problem. This wasn’t a problem. I had to just keep telling myself that. He wasn’t going to get me to marry some man for money easily.

The door ahead of us opens and we walk silently in. A grand room meets our eyes and we walk in, stopping when we meet the sight of another man. I keep silent. This was father’s business. He would be doing all the introductions while I stood there and looked pretty.

It made a shiver run up my spine at the thought. It seemed now that I was just something you might buy at the mega marts. Just something that cost money that could pass hands so easily. The thought is was seals my fate. I’ll fight this to the end. There will be no check mate for me. There was no ways that I could just let that happen. There is only so much I can do to keep myself from being married to someone, however. It will take planning and hard work, but it’ll happen. It’s like a game of chess between father and me. He’s got me in check now, but later, what will happen? I can get out, yes, very easily can I get out of his grasp. Mischief is a way that I had been thinking of a long while. What happened when this main foyer got painted at night? Surely I could sneak out to get paint. Yes, I wasn’t confined here the entire time. My imagination was a great help. What happened if I made these people completely hate me? Even if I had no power to refuse my father’s orders, the male, whoever he may be could easily. He probably had a house of his own, a car, and a steady pay check. He probably worked, unlike me, who had no skills besides drawing. He wasn’t pressured by his father’s credit card. Well…these were all very large assumptions. Frankly, I had no idea about what this man was like. I had no picture, no praise from father, and surely no personal contact with him at all. That was about to change though.

“And this is my daughter, Mira” I’m called out of my thoughts by the sound of my name being called. I look away from the large wall. I had already been forming designs of what could be painted across such a color. A smile falls naturally to my lips. I take a half step forward to grasp the man’s hand.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mira” The man speaks and I nod silently, not speaking for a moment or two. My mind was only half in the direction of the conversation.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mister Valdemar” With my words, I pull my hand away and step back beside father. They could continue with their small talk, as long as she didn’t have to listen to them.

Continue their "small talk" they do. They exchange niceties and general chit-chat, neither of them really trusting or even liking the other one very much. Mira's father feels that Tigras is too cool, too soulless for his liking, those eyes too cold, and Tigras thinks that Mira's father is too warm, too soft to truly deserve standing there. Of course, both have their means and both obviously work...but, like most successful businessmen, they each think that their way is better. Tigras's icicle eyes survey every inch of the pair, dissecting everything he can about them. He's had his team do extensive research, of course, but there's nothing like a close, personal inspection to confirm what he already suspects. What his private thoughts are, only he would be able to say; no doubt he is making contingency plans in case the marriage goes awry, if he hasn't done so already. Business is like war, according to Tigras; in business, like in war, you must plan so that not one, but all roads lead to victory, and that requires following a logic. Not the "logic" that excludes everything illogical, like most people believe, though. Logic simply means taking the path most likely to result in victory...if that requires an illogical action, then that action by definition becomes logical. And Tigras is very, very logical.

He makes a discreet gesture, too small to be seen by anybody not observing for that specific signal, and one of the servants quietly detaches himself from the wall and exits the room. That's the thing about servants; they become like furniture, after a while. They blend in. Nobody notices a servant until it's too late, nobody suspects a servant if they keep their head down, and servants are allowed to go places most other people aren't. If you wanted to hide a spy in the midst of a family, you choose a servant. Get him in, and he's in, no questions asked.
This servant makes his way down to the conference room, opens the door and steps inside. He bows low to Gregory, who observes him with the same cold, calculating eyes and stern, flat, unamused expression that his father wears almost constantly. The resemblance is uncanny; whilst Gregory still has his hair and Tigras doesn't (he has all his hair save a large bald patch on the top, separating the side-hair), the facial expression, the eyes, the set of the jaw and the complete control he seems to exude on his surroundings leaves you in no doubt that the son could grow up to be every bit as cold, cunning and successful as the father. The servant, however, is unfazed; he has been serving this family for the best part of ten years.

"Sir," he says respectfully, keeping his eyes fixed on Gregory's chest, "your father requests that you to enter the entrance hall to meet our guests -"
"- and my future bride, no doubt, though you are too respectful to say it out loud." Gregory interrupts calmly. He waits for a moment, but the servant doesn't say anything more. He scoffs quietly, but gets up nonetheless. "Very well. I shall meet and greet, as Father commands." He may have said 'requests,' but when his father requests, he actually means 'commands'.

Gregory brushes past the servant and into the corridor, but the servant is unfazed still; he simply walks behind him, easily managing to keep up with Gregory's brisk, authoritative pace; Tigras and Gregory both have a very fast stride, and the servants have to keep up. The servant hurries ahead to get the door, and Gregory strides through it without stopping, walking straight into the entrance hall in his all-black suit, shirt and tie. His father insisted that he dress up for this occasion, and one does not refuse Tigras Valdemar lightly. He stops beside his father, eyes scanning both members of the delegation promptly and quickly. His eyes pass quickly over the older man - his father will take care of him - but pays closer attention to the younger girl. She's probably around his age, and not that bad looking all things considered...but she has a steel in her posture that suggests a stubbornness rarely seen in the women he courts...she probably dislikes this prospect as much as he does. That won't make them friends, but at least they're on the same page. The way she stands, though, and the way she dresses suggests a rebellion on her part; he doubts very much that business is one of her interests. If he has to share his life with a hippy, he will not be best pleased. Nobody is telling him that he can't eat meat.

His eyes bore into her, his unblinking gaze diverted only when Tigras speaks up. "Mr and Ms La'Mar, this is my son, Gregory."
Gregory inclines his head politely, offering his hand smoothly to the man, who shakes it perhaps a little stiffly, then offers it to the young girl. "A pleasure to meet you both," he says, practice and protocol taking over despite what he may really think. He is calm, collected and even, just like his father. The resemblance unnerves some people, if they haven't seen it before.

The two talk for a while. They talk for so long in fact, I already know what kind of artwork will be showcased on the wall to my right. It will be glorious. Maybe it seems like awhile to me, but it’s only a few minutes. These few weeks are going to feel like a few years. Before long though, they seem to draw their conversation to a close. Well, a long, drawn out diminuendo on their words until a door opens. Only then is my attention drawn back to what’s actually happening around me.

Frankly, their stupid business gibber-gabber wasn’t something that I wanted to listen to. It all ceases, however, when another gentleman comes walking through the door. The two resemble each other in a quite creepy way. One man is just an elder version of the other. Our eyes catch each other’s and I know he’s judging me. The change in his features is small, but you can see them. He doesn’t like me. Already I know that. It doesn’t really faze me though, seeing how I’ve already judged him just the same.

His demeanor tells me everything I need. He is completely opposite from me. The way he looks down at me, as if I’m just another ant to be crushed in his Grande scheme of things. I was just another pawn here, just like my father was. At least I knew that daddy didn’t like them either. I could see it in the way he looked around and kept eye contact with the elder as long as they spoke. They were having a dominance battle, but I couldn’t exactly tell who was winning. Just as the two elders were watching each other, we continued with our staring contest.

He looks away, as do I, just as his father speaks. Our attention is directed at the same person. His name escapes out into the air. Gregory. What a…safe name. Compare our names. Gregory and Mira. It wasn’t going to fit like that. What an average name too. Greg. I would call him Greg; that would surely piss him off.

A wide smile spreads across my lips, just as his hand seems directed towards me. It would surely be connected to something else; maybe he would think I was giddy about getting married. Yeah…Right.
“It’s a pleasure, I’m sure” I speak simply, the smile lightening as the thought passes through my head and is gone in a flash. I take his hand, and I keep my eyes on his, until I pull my hand away and look toward father. What now?

The thought passes through my head just as the driver comes through the front door. His hands are empty and it can only be assumed that he has finished unloading our bags. He stands to the side, waiting for us to finish speaking. He doesn’t dare interrupt father. He knows his place on the side. I don’t really feel like this conversation anymore. I give another smile before turning and excusing myself to the driver. It wasn’t completely odd that I did such things, but it probably wasn’t welcome around these people. I didn’t care, just another bad thought about me in their heads. That’s what I needed to get out of here.

“Have you finished unloading the bags?” My voice is piano tone as I look to him. I don’t want the others to hear our conversation, or wait for me to return either.
“Yes, Ms. La’Mar. I’m sure the other servants can escort you to your room” He slows down, but still looks me in the eyes. I give him a small smile before nodding, “Good, you’re excused” He nods, not wanting to look at the men behind me. I turn, and he escaped out of the door he came in. I hold my head high, showing this man that I wasn’t going to be one of the same women he probably already had lined up to marry him. No—I was surely going to be different.

ooc- Sorry about the length of time that passed, I was in the middle of cooking dinner.

Oh yes. Her attitude, her speech patterns, everything about her screams that she will be trouble. She doesn't want to be here, she doesn't care about business or politics and she is already plotting how to get out of it, if her roaming eyes are anything to go by. She isn't particularly good at disguising her emotions, or her intentions...the evil look in her eyes shows just how much she detests the idea...something they have in common. Tigras ignores her plotting looks - the chances of Tigras missing something as obvious as a young girls plotting are slim - instead focusing on the father. For Tigras, it isn't a battle of wills, simply a show of dominance. Though it isn't obvious who is winning, Gregory would bet on Tigras; that unflinching, unblinking gaze has sealed many deals and bullied many rivals into submission. Though Mr. La'Mar is just as successful, Gregory - perhaps a little biased, I'll grant you - has no doubt that his father will win in the end.

But the girl is becoming bored, and is speaking to her servant. A little disrespectful, but neither her father or Tigras will allow that to sour the deal. They'll put up with a lot to seal this deal...and she'll do whatever she can to break it. A plan forms in his mind; he is logical, like his father, and takes the most likely path to victory. For him, victory would be no marriage; his aims are aligned with hers, for now, so the most logical step would not be to fight, but to work together. Though he doesn't much like his first impression of her - and she probably feels the same - they stand the best chance of getting this called off. He controls his features, though he wants to smile...and he doesn't doubt that she'll be smiling too at the end of this, though whether she's smiling or frowning is of no concern to him.

Tigras evidently doesn't trust her alone, for he breaks off his conversation with her father yet again. He speaks calmly and evenly, and is comfortable enough to look away. Subtly, that is saying that he is unconcerned with Mr. La'Mar's presence. Just another move in the mental chess game that they're playing.
"Gregory," he says, "show Miss La'Mar around the manor, and see that she's settled." And keep an eye on her. The extra bit is unspoken, but they both know that's what he's thinking.
"Of course, father," he says, bowing slightly. Not much, but enough to show deference and respect. He is loathe to do it, but protocol dictates that he shows this respect. He turns to Miss La'Mar, bows slightly again, and says politely, "Miss La'Mar, may I escort you to your room?" Without waiting for an answer, he moves past her towards the stairs, climbing them with her in tow, leaving their fathers to their dominance battles. When they are far enough away - through a set of double doors and completely alone - he turns his head, deciding to speak first.

"We can dispense with the pleasantries," he says simply. His voice remains even, however. "We don't like each other, and we don't want this marriage. In this, our goals are aligned."

The look that father gives me is enough to give me an idea of what he’s thinking. It’s not a noticeable on, just a side glace, and a reposition of his arms to show me that he’s not happy. He doesn’t like how this meeting is going, and he doesn’t like the way I’m looking at the walls. None of the men are stupid, they know that I don’t just look around absentmindedly like a special child. As much as they all doubted my ability to stop this, I did. That was enough for now.

I do stop looking around so much, more watching the men, when I do see father’s movements. It would be better not to anger him. A deep breath fills my lungs as I stand, watching the three in silence. They speak a little more until the Valdemar elder calls his younger to show me to my room. That was good, it would surely take me longer to get my things put in place than father would be. The trunk was full with my suitcases, not his. At one point during the driver’s loading, father actually asked if I needed all this stuff. A stupid question in my eyes, but that didn’t matter. I had brought art and many different drawing assisting tools along to help me. A bag was just full of charcoals, pencils, and pens for detail work. Hopefully the idea that it was all clothing wasn’t in father’s head; he knew better than that.

The boy is fast when following his father’s orders. It not a surprise either, it seems that this man means strict business in front of us. As he passes me, I turn, giving a final glance to father before following him up the stairs. We pass through a set of double doors, leaving the two men to whatever they plan on doing. I know for a fact that father has work. I wonder he’ll even have a chance to manage things while he’s here. He brought what he needed, but he always seems to need to go out on trips for different reasons. A highly doubt a trip to another continent would work in his favor at this point in time, but that’s his choice.

The sound of the latch catching seems to draw the boy’s attention toward me. The words that flow from his mouth make me draw in a slow, deep breath. He was very straightforward, and I could be assured that he would probably be like this the whole extent of our stay here. That could be a good and bad thing, but right now, my mind would rather decide on what he’s saying. If he really didn’t want to have this marriage, then he could be an ally in this war against father. I knew though, just by the way he carried himself and the way he spoke, that he was sly. He had his best intentions in mind and no others. His intentions could be far different than mine. Yes, end the marriage was on the list of things to do, but what came after? What did it even matter? After this marriage situation was over, we wouldn’t be in contact probably ever again. I didn’t need to care about his plans after that.

“So what are you proposing?” The question was simple. He probably had his plans as they were; I wanted to know them. What did he think we were going to be doing to get out of this? It was made very clear that our opposition to this whole thing was ignored. My mind was split about this. I had to watch what I said around this man. Would he betray me and hold me from doing the many things I planned, or would he simply stand by and watched. After all, one family hating you was much better than living with a family you hated the rest of your life.

Gregory smirks ever so slightly; she is not dense, so probably knows exactly what he means. What the implication of her question means, however, is 'what are you planning,' and for that he has a few masterstrokes in mind. He can only use one or two of them, but they will come later; the sabotage of this marriage is not something that they can rush...though a criminal act would end it very quickly, he doubts that he can persuade her to do something bad enough to be considered criminal, and she's careful; he will likely not be able to frame her. He may try, of course, if their joint efforts end up failing, but for now the best way for them to both get what they want is to work together, much as he may dislike that idea.

He looks around; there is nobody around, not even any servants, and he stops, forcing her to stop too or else wander on and get lost. They've stopped in a narrow stretch of corridor, with no alcoves or hiding spots for eavesdroppers to hide in. He lowers his voice regardless, though, just in case.
"We cannot act like we like each other; our parents would see through that in an instant. So instead, we do the opposite. Whenever we're around anybody else, we bicker and argue, snipe and take cheap shots, play cruel pranks on each other and basically make each others lives a visible hell. The lies easiest to sell are the ones closest to the truth, and our parents will deduce that we hate each other far too much to work together. Over time, the pranks and bickering will quieten, making them believe that we've accepted our duty and have grown sullen...all the while, we will be planning behind their backs as to how to ruin the marriage." It will likely only end in one of them doing something bad enough that the other family no longer wishes to be associated with them, and break off the marriage...but he doesn't say that. He's still working on it, and he will not unveil it until it's finished and they need to use it.

He was straightforward, to the point, and we didn’t have to waste time. He comes to a stop in a narrow hallway. Of course, the chance of a servant hearing is great, since they had so many. He looks around, and I stop, watching him expectantly for a moment. He was smart, and it was a great attribute to have in a situation like this. He probably knew how to make his father wary of this marriage. We could help each other. A slow nod begins as he speaks and I think over his plan.

“It won’t be too hard to fight amongst ourselves anyway.Seeing as we hardly know each other and all” and I hate you as much as my insults will portray. I keep the last bit to myself, knowing that it would probably not be the best way to begin an alliance. I give another jerk of my head at the thought, assuring myself of that small little fact. Ruining the wedding wouldn’t be that hard, if it came to that. If we really got down to the wire, and we were forced into a ceremony, then it could be ended. I mean, it was already set to be a disaster with the friends I had coming. They weren’t all too thrilled about me being wed to a man unknown to them either. Hell, I couldn't be sure if one of them didn't object to the wedding during the ceremony. I chuckle quietly; that would be a trip. “It seems like we’ve got a plan then” I take a moment, a small smirk forming on my lips.

It’s a short conversation, but I feel we have said all we need to at this point in time. Plans can unfold as time goes on, but for now, I just want to get settled in. Besides, every second we stand here increases the likelihood of someone coming through one of these doors and hearing what we are speaking of. I turn slightly, down the hall that we had been heading down. With a simple gesture, I ended one conversation, and began another one.
“I would really like to get to my room though. There’s…quite a lot of bags that need to be unpacked”

Gregory nods, and he can see that the understanding has reached her; she will play along, at least so long as it looks to be working, purely because she has no better options. In truth, that's the same for him. He will do whatever he can to get this marriage called off, and the "alliance" is the best current chance of getting that done. If that changes, he has other options he can explore...but for the moment, he will 'play nice,' as some might say. Though this playing nice requires him to be coldly cruel, something that his father has taught him a great deal about.

He begins to walk once again, striding swiftly down one or two more corridors, before coming to a halt in front of a set of double doors. The room beyond is richly decorated with all kinds of art and gilded furniture and rich, plush cushions and colours. It's a bit grandiose for Gregory's tastes, but some people like it. "Here is the room that has been assigned to you. I imagine my father would very much like me to assist you in the unpacking of your bags - which our servants have probably already brought up - so I shall stay and see you properly settled. Is that acceptable to you?"

He doesn’t speak before turning and beginning his fast strides toward the room I will be situated in. I doubt that he realizes he’s moving so quickly. The tapping seems more frantic on the ground, but I have simply quickened my pace a bit to match his strides.

We come to a stop just as I seem to have gotten comfortable with the pace. The sounds cease and I look at the door a moment. It’s a strong wood that is a deep red color. Double doors tell me that it’s probably quite the room. Good, they weren’t laxed in luxury for their guests, I liked that. I stand there, looking at the door a moment before looking back over to the man. His father wants him to help me unpack. That’s not really a surprise to me right now. Of course, it would help us get acquainted and it wouldn’t take me as long.

Really, I don’t bother waiting for him to get the door. I was a big girl; I could do things myself. I grasp the handle, turning it and pushing it forward. I give him a half glance before taking a stop inside.
“If you really want to help you can” I shrug, my eyes meeting the room for the first time. I answered the way I had for many reasons. Really, I cared, very much if he helped. All of the suitcases looked the same, and really, it was no time for him to get acquainted with any of the undergarments that I brought. “Or you can sit on the bed and say you helped” That sounded like a much better idea, but I would let him decide whether or not he actually helped.

I note where all my bags are. It seems that they were good at placement. Most of the bags are on the bed, while a few litter the floor in front of the bed. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take as long as it did to get it all packed. Six bags altogether are staring back at me from their places. Six bags that were all different, only by a small tag on the handle. The tag did not, however, help identify the contents.

My heels tap on the hardwood floor beneath my feet as I make it over to the bed. I had to admit, the colors were fit in my favor. I liked it. It wasn’t something that I had planned to meet when we walked into the grand foyer and saw what had been waiting for us. I assumed it would be just another uppity room with beige walls and artwork that portrayed little more than how stuck up this family probably was.

As much as my mind wandered to that, and I thought hard, I wasn’t completely trapped in my thoughts. No—actually, within my thoughts, I had opened up the first bag and begun trying to plan out where everything was going to go. It would have been more practical if I had simply gotten what I needed out, but I wasn’t very practical. If this was going to be my home for at least two weeks, then it was damn well going to feel about home.

She enters the room and proceeds to look around, in a similar way to her roaming gaze earlier in the foyer...except he can see that this is a different type of gaze. This gaze is more of an investigatory, planning gaze than the mischievous look she had earlier. He could easily leave and leave her to it, or just sit on the bed as she suggests - it would probably be easier, given then fact that she doesn't seem to be one for logical organisation (would it have killed her to label the suitcases?) - but he knows his father. He would have sent a servant by now to "drop in" and see if they needed anything, but his real purpose would be to spy on the proceedings in the room for two purposes; one to see if Gregory is being a good host and two to see if they're getting on...if he walks in and Gregory is not helping and not speaking, that isn't what he wants his father to see.

"My father will have sent somebody by now to check how we are doing," he says simply, "So I think it best for everybody if I help you. To protect your...dignity, as it were, perhaps you should check the suitcases and set aside which ones are acceptable for me to pack away." He would have added a snide comment on the end, but the alliance is still new; they'll have to be careful for the next couple of days as it solidifies. Besides, he can be as snide and sarcastic as he wants when in public, so he'll save his comments until then.

(Sorry about the short posts; at the moment, your character is leading and I have quite a few RP's to reply to! XD)

So the first two bags I opened up were shoes and shirts. This one wasn’t too complicated. There was a dresser on the other side of the room, along with a closet for hanging clothes and holding the shoes. It was strange to think that his father would have a servant walk in on us, just to see if we were getting along. Father would never have thought of something like that, and if he had, it wouldn’t have gone farther than a thought.

“You can start putting the heels in the closet then, if you insist on helping.” I don’t look up to him as I speak, simply because it’s a waste of time. Really, if I hurry up and do this, I can be done and little less than an hour—probably even less than that. So, instead, I scoop some of the shirts I carried along with me in hand, walking over to the dresser. It slides open with ease, and everything seems to fit nice enough. They’re arranged by color, and then arranged by type of shirt. I had a specific way of ordering my clothing so I had is whenever I wanted it, and there was no problem. I wouldn’t have to toss everything about to know where it was.

Once I’ve finished, I walk back to the bag that is now empty and just taking up space. I zip it up, quietly, dropping it to the ground and kicking it under the bed. I was almost certain that there would be enough room under the bed to fit all of these cases.

I reach to open another bag, finding that it contains the holographic speaker system that I had received last Christmas.“Do you know by any chance where the energy sources are in the walls?” Most likely, they were close enough together that I could put anything where I wanted to and it could pick up the energy, but it was better to make sure than look like a fool.

--
It's completely okay. I've got to leave to the store. Sorry if it sounds rushed.

Gregory takes the shoes without comment - though there are a lot of them; how many shoes does a person need? - and moves over to the closet, opening it with one hand and setting the shoes down. He orders them according to type - or at least tries to - and makes a mental note that she likes her expensive shoes. They could be the target of one of their for-show tit-for-tat wars later, so it's best to start planning now. He gets up and grabs another two or three pairs, setting them down as well, and looks up to where she's putting away her shirts; as opposed to his earlier impression, she is actually fairly organised. Though he can't discern it from here, she obviously has a method of organisation - at least for her shirts - that allows her to find things faster. That, at least, he can respect; organisation makes things so much easier!

He gets up to grab the last few pairs of shoes, puts them away, and stands up. "There are four pairs of energy sources around the room, one on each wall. Behind the dresser, here next to the closet, over there next to the en suite bathroom door and one there behind the head of the bed," he says, pointing. "What else do you want in the closet?"

As I assumed, there were energy sources on every wall. That would make putting electronics downs so much easier. The walk back to the dresser, placing the speakers on top of the wood. The small indication light flashes, showing me that it’s picked up on an energy source. It will take a few moments to synchronize. While I wait, I turn back to the bags.

“There should be a few more things; let me find them” I pull one bag open, only to find that it’s the pants and skirts following the shirts that I had just placed in the dresser. The second was the bag I had been looking for. All of the dresses, assorted skirts, and shirts that couldn’t be placed in a drawer for fear of wrinkling, had been put in this bag. They were already on hangers, they just needed to be taken out and placed in the closet.
“Here it is. They should already be in order, so just hang them up” I turn away from the bag, pulling the one with shorts, skirts, and pants to the dresser. I pulled open another drawer, and began to organize everything here. These usually took up two drawers, just because I didn’t like my skirts being in the same drawer as my jeans. They were too easily misidentified.

There’s a quiet beeping above my head. I look up, to see that the speakers have synced up to the energy source. I reach up, pushing a button to turn it on. Music would not play until commanded now, but it still needed to be turned on completely to work out all the kinks within itself.

--
My apologies for the last two days. A few things came up and I didn't have the time to get online.

Gregory watches her sort her clothes and bags out with a practiced ease; it's a little chaotic, but she gets the job done fairly quickly and without any fuss, which is something he can respect, at least. She passes him over the bag with the dresses in it, and nods once; a practical and ordered way of doing things. He approves. Bending down, he picks up the first few items on the pile and carries them over to the wardrobe, hanging them up from left-to-right. He isn't sure if that's the right way round, but it's the only logical direction to go; they aren't in Japan, where they put things from right to left, so he'll take his chances. As he does so, he hears the beep of her stereo synchronizing, and looks over his shoulder at her.
"What kind of music do you listen to?" he asks. He isn't just making conversation; he needs to know what kind of drivvle he'll be forced to listen to when she starts blasting music out of that accursed thing, and how long she's waiting to do it. He swears, if she blasts out the poppy crap that's big at the moment, he will personally take a clawhammer to that stereo and burn the remains.

---------------

It's ok, I understand ^_^

Everything was almost in its place. I assumed that my shoes and clothes had been hung up nice and tidy in the closet. I hadn’t looked really, but I could trust that something out of place would annoy him. It just seemed to be one of those people. I smooth out the tops of the pants and skirts. I knew I would change soon. I had brought enough clothes for at least six months worth of living. I wasn’t going to be here, of course, but I enjoyed wearing everything I owned. What was the point in staying the clothes I had traveled the past day and a half in when I had enough to change into?

I’m far lost into my thoughts. I’ve been smoothing out the same bit of cloth for at least a minute. Only his words call me from the thoughts of outfits and colors. I look up from the dresser, hand slowing to a stop. I give a half grunt.

As much as I wanted to say that he would enjoy my musical tastes, I didn’t think he could. My tastes jumped from genre to genre. I had so many different musical tastes on my player that it was almost impossible to describe. Daddy had made sure that I had the most possible memory space which meant that the options were endless. I push in the drawer, turning to look to him a moment before looking to the closet. It seemed he understood how to order things to my liking. That was a good thing. Now, all that was left was the bag filled with art supplies and the likes. That was an infinite bag, which weren’t even on the markets yet. I doubted that they would ever be on the market. Who would need to buy other bags if you had one bag that could carry all of the things you needed and be just as light as a normal bag? Nice invention if you were into the whole ‘see a need, fill a need’ mindset, but not so good if you were a large, greedy company.

I don’t acknowledge his question for a moment. I’ve made it back to the bed, sitting down quietly before beginning to form a response. There was just so much of an answer I had to pick and choose what to say. I decide to be lazy, and give him the simplest answer I can come up with.

“I have a very widespread genre type. I like a lot of older things though. Jazz. I love Jazz” I nod, turning, and beginning to zip up the bag. Once I have finished, I drop it to the ground, kicking it beneath the bed. “Do you have a preference in music?” I have to question him, more out of courtesy than anything. I’m more occupied on what I’m doing though. Now everything was unpacked accept the one bag that sat, waiting to be unleashed. Might as well get to work. This would take longer than anything else to unpack.

I pull myself up, leaning over the bed to pull the bag a little bit closer. Now, I have to unlock the damned thing. After a moment of messing with the lock, I unzip the bag, and it makes a small beeping sound as I pull it open. Soon, it quiets, and I only have to begin unpacking. They didn’t make many of the things that I began pulling out anymore. Well…they did, but they were expensive. Only certain people made them, and they were all hand crafted. They didn’t bother wasting time on making machines when the want for them was so little. Musical instruments were always the topic of discussion at dinner. I loved creating music. I fight with the Alto Saxophone as I pull it out of the bag. It was handcrafted in Nevada by the best of the best. The case was protective enough and theft proof, so no one could steal such an item and sell it. I pull it out, setting it down on the floor.

“Do you play any musical instruments?” I question as I pull myself back up, leaning into the bag to grab a few more things.

ooc- I am so sorry for the past few weeks. It was a few days before camp the last time I got on, and I meant to get back on, but a lot of things got in the way. I got back a few days ago and I've been finalizing a trip for my sister so I haven't been able to get on. I hope that you'll accept my apology and continue roleplaying with me?