It's a serious conversation, so she tries not to laugh but does anyway — softly, a hand pressed to her mouth to quell it. It isn't that the circumstances are funny, just—
"Sorry, it's only... the way you describe things. It's funny." To herself, she murmurs: "Crotch goblins..."
She'd met her share of these people that Rose speaks of with such disdain. Luckily not often; Miorine's circle of influence was more readily found in business and corporate ventures. And her own was in places that most celebrities would push donating for but not actually wading into. Hearing the way Zero talks about her son convinces her more than anything else that she was not one of the celebrities she spoke so disdainfully of. No, not at all.
Her expression fades into a rarely seen sobriety. She's thinking. Tapping her finger against her cheek, blue-green eyes dim with contemplation.
"It doesn't have to be that way." Her voice is gentle, calm and understanding. "There are other parents who have... the same concerns as you, and they let their children attend here. How about this? Let me make a phone call to someone, and I'll..."
She begins, and then a voice cuts in, echoing and decisive in the near-empty room: "There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere."
Miorine's heels click along the auditorium floor. Suletta brightens at the sight of her, bearing out her scolding (you climbed up here? you should be careful, remember what your doctor said...) and taking her extended hand to be helped down with a quiet word of thanks. Miorine acknowledges Rose's presence with a cool flicker of her gaze in her direction, a flat and assessing once-over. She does not smile, though she provides a compliment nonetheless. She'd been moved by it in fact; Suletta recalls holding her a little closer when her gaze had dropped in the middle of a song, seeing the abrupt gesture for what it was.
"Good show," is her sparse compliment. We'll send the check-"
Suletta tugs at the sleeve of her jacket. Her serene smile is a little overbright, as if to make up for the coolness that had settled over everything. Miorine breathes out carefully through her teeth.
"And thank you very much."
"Yes!" Suletta follows up with much more enthusiasm, reaching out to shake Rose's hand. "You were amazing." She puts a hand to her chest. Solemnly: "I promise to buy every album."
This finally earns a smile from Miorine. "I heard you all weekend. You're really good," she says, with more sincerity now. And then, to Suletta: "Come on."
Only then does Suletta allow them to turn away, allows Miorine to put a steadying hand on the small of her back, lets herself lean her weight into Miorine at her nonverbal urging. It does help. It had been a long day. Before they depart, however, she looks over her shoulder at Rose and finishes what she was saying.
"I'll send you an email! I'll figure something out for Mikhail. It was nice speaking with you again!"
Miorine's hand shifts further up her back, a just so pressure at her spine that always makes her look down to pay attention. Soon enough, they're talking over what to have for dinner.
She holds to her promise, however, and her emails were far more involved and professional than her texting presence. There are attached brochures, regularly scheduled events and field trips, curriculum. A number of other, more involved things as well: schematics of the school, something about an "advanced defense system." It's likely too much information to read in one sitting.
She finishes with,
Please contact my mother or myself if you have any additional questions about our security and defense systems. I've CCed her to this email.
Mother, huh.
It's her specialty!
In any event, Suletta gives Rose about a week before she calls. In part to give her a little time, and also because... even for her mother, smooth and cunning as she was, Rose was a hard sell. Prospera enjoyed a challenge, but she'd been curious: why all the fuss for one child? Surely he couldn't be so remarkable. Suletta had responded in so many words that he was, actually, and she thought it would help him and his mother both. Unaccustomed to her daughter exhibiting any sort of authority, Prospera dramatically put a hand to her chest and smiled one of those smiles that reminded Suletta of a cat with a bird pinned to the ground. And thus her sales pitch continued.
Suletta's doing paperwork late today: dappled sunset is slanting in from the half-open blinds before she has a chance to come up for air and make her phone call. She's braced herself for the no, the disappointment that would follow, but still she's nervous and oddly giddy about the call anyway.
Odd.
"Mi- ah, sorry. Rose? It's Suletta Rembran again." As if this was not obvious. She continues, "Do you have a little time to talk?"
Rose watches Suletta's inter-domestic relations play out before her; it's such a short interaction but tells her all she needs to know about their dynamic. The concern and love are both equally as apparent and for that reason she softens, lets her ire fall somewhere in between 'I don't respect you' and 'Well, I guess you're still human' (because she has only ever alluded to this in her music: but a capacity to selflessly love another was ultimately the only trait she truly valued in another person).
Rose waves listlessly as the two of them retreat.
"No one buys albums anymore."
Is the only response she has to everything that's transpired in front of her.
She's elbow deep in her freezer, trying to find something that will suffice for dinner when she gets the call. When she answers the sound of shuffling and the incessant beeping that follows when you've had your freezer open for too long carries across the phone line.
"You eat what I made, or chicken nuggets- or you can go hungry! Your choice kid."
Some more shuffling as she slides the phone against her shoulder and face and closes the door shut with her hip.
"You changed your last name when you got hitched, huh? Guess I shouldn't be surprised."
Somehow that's the first thing that comes to mind.
Content to listen to the sounds of Rose and Mikhail's bickering over the phone, this snapshot into their daily life, she waits patiently until she's addressed properly. Her response is a little guarded, masked as her usual sheepishness. "Is it strange? It's what husbands and wives do too." She doubts that garden variety squeamishness around her and Miorine's relationship prompted the quip, but she mentions it all the same.
"How are you today? I was wondering if you had some time to think over the school? Ah, and my mother... I'm sure she's spoken to you too." She knows she has, in fact, had requested that she do so, but things worked in her favor when she kept the veneer of separation between them. "She mentioned you seemed concerned still, so I thought I would call in case you had other questions."
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no subject
"Sorry, it's only... the way you describe things. It's funny." To herself, she murmurs: "Crotch goblins..."
She'd met her share of these people that Rose speaks of with such disdain. Luckily not often; Miorine's circle of influence was more readily found in business and corporate ventures. And her own was in places that most celebrities would push donating for but not actually wading into. Hearing the way Zero talks about her son convinces her more than anything else that she was not one of the celebrities she spoke so disdainfully of. No, not at all.
Her expression fades into a rarely seen sobriety. She's thinking. Tapping her finger against her cheek, blue-green eyes dim with contemplation.
"It doesn't have to be that way." Her voice is gentle, calm and understanding. "There are other parents who have... the same concerns as you, and they let their children attend here. How about this? Let me make a phone call to someone, and I'll..."
She begins, and then a voice cuts in, echoing and decisive in the near-empty room: "There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere."
Miorine's heels click along the auditorium floor. Suletta brightens at the sight of her, bearing out her scolding (you climbed up here? you should be careful, remember what your doctor said...) and taking her extended hand to be helped down with a quiet word of thanks. Miorine acknowledges Rose's presence with a cool flicker of her gaze in her direction, a flat and assessing once-over. She does not smile, though she provides a compliment nonetheless. She'd been moved by it in fact; Suletta recalls holding her a little closer when her gaze had dropped in the middle of a song, seeing the abrupt gesture for what it was.
"Good show," is her sparse compliment. We'll send the check-"
Suletta tugs at the sleeve of her jacket. Her serene smile is a little overbright, as if to make up for the coolness that had settled over everything. Miorine breathes out carefully through her teeth.
"And thank you very much."
"Yes!" Suletta follows up with much more enthusiasm, reaching out to shake Rose's hand. "You were amazing." She puts a hand to her chest. Solemnly: "I promise to buy every album."
This finally earns a smile from Miorine. "I heard you all weekend. You're really good," she says, with more sincerity now. And then, to Suletta: "Come on."
Only then does Suletta allow them to turn away, allows Miorine to put a steadying hand on the small of her back, lets herself lean her weight into Miorine at her nonverbal urging. It does help. It had been a long day. Before they depart, however, she looks over her shoulder at Rose and finishes what she was saying.
"I'll send you an email! I'll figure something out for Mikhail. It was nice speaking with you again!"
Miorine's hand shifts further up her back, a just so pressure at her spine that always makes her look down to pay attention. Soon enough, they're talking over what to have for dinner.
She holds to her promise, however, and her emails were far more involved and professional than her texting presence. There are attached brochures, regularly scheduled events and field trips, curriculum. A number of other, more involved things as well: schematics of the school, something about an "advanced defense system." It's likely too much information to read in one sitting.
She finishes with,
Please contact my mother or myself if you have any additional questions about our security and defense systems. I've CCed her to this email.
Mother, huh.
It's her specialty!
In any event, Suletta gives Rose about a week before she calls. In part to give her a little time, and also because... even for her mother, smooth and cunning as she was, Rose was a hard sell. Prospera enjoyed a challenge, but she'd been curious: why all the fuss for one child? Surely he couldn't be so remarkable. Suletta had responded in so many words that he was, actually, and she thought it would help him and his mother both. Unaccustomed to her daughter exhibiting any sort of authority, Prospera dramatically put a hand to her chest and smiled one of those smiles that reminded Suletta of a cat with a bird pinned to the ground. And thus her sales pitch continued.
Suletta's doing paperwork late today: dappled sunset is slanting in from the half-open blinds before she has a chance to come up for air and make her phone call. She's braced herself for the no, the disappointment that would follow, but still she's nervous and oddly giddy about the call anyway.
Odd.
"Mi- ah, sorry. Rose? It's Suletta Rembran again." As if this was not obvious. She continues, "Do you have a little time to talk?"
no subject
Rose waves listlessly as the two of them retreat.
"No one buys albums anymore."
Is the only response she has to everything that's transpired in front of her.
She's elbow deep in her freezer, trying to find something that will suffice for dinner when she gets the call. When she answers the sound of shuffling and the incessant beeping that follows when you've had your freezer open for too long carries across the phone line.
"You eat what I made, or chicken nuggets- or you can go hungry! Your choice kid."
Some more shuffling as she slides the phone against her shoulder and face and closes the door shut with her hip.
"You changed your last name when you got hitched, huh? Guess I shouldn't be surprised."
Somehow that's the first thing that comes to mind.
no subject
"How are you today? I was wondering if you had some time to think over the school? Ah, and my mother... I'm sure she's spoken to you too." She knows she has, in fact, had requested that she do so, but things worked in her favor when she kept the veneer of separation between them. "She mentioned you seemed concerned still, so I thought I would call in case you had other questions."