Chapter Text
Yennefer steps out of a pristine, brassy elevator and onto the 36th floor of a building she has never been inside of, the doors shutting behind her with a small chime.
Her entrance into Aretuza Publications is obstructed by not one, not two, but four workers rushing past her with several racks of clothing that range from athleisure to one entirely consisting of tuxedos. They don’t even bother apologizing to her as they sprint down the hallway and to the left.
She quirks a brow after them. Someone must be in trouble, for them to be so frantic.
Shrugging the encounter off, she walks towards the end of the floor, where a set of glass doors reveal a hall and a small staircase leading to an office with two desks outside of it. The placement of the furniture implies subordination towards the pristine office at the end of the walkway, despite there only being one woman in the space there.
The woman in question is dressed in expensive looking clothing that flatters her silhouette, her blond hair wound in a braided twist at the base of her neck. But the exorbitancy of her style suits her well, the fine quality of her clothing combining seamlessly with the elegant arch of her nose and the sharp, slight frown on her lips.
She would have easily been mistaken for a model with that sort of aura, Yennefer figures.
As Yennefer slowly makes her way towards the office, she suddenly feels daunted by the prospect of the interview.
When she reaches the desk, the blonde woman takes in her outfit with barely hidden disgust. Instantaneously, the woman seems less like a cold supermodel and more like someone to avoid.
“Hello, I’m here for the assistant job interview.” Yennefer says politely.
“Yennefer, yes?” The woman asks with an undertone of revulsion. Yennefer nods in response. “You’re here to interview for a job in a fashion magazine… dressed like that ?”
“Like what?” Yennefer asks. The woman scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“I’m Sabrina,” She says in lieu of an answer. “And you’ll be interviewing for my old job position as secondary assistant. The old assistant was promoted, so now I’m her primary assistant. Are you familiar with the contents of CONDUIT Magazine? Do you know what Tissaia actually does?”
Yennefer can’t help but feel dumb when she asks, “Sorry, who?”
As Sabrina’s eyes widen and her jaw drops, Yennefer knows that she’s said the wrong thing.
A curly haired, freckled woman in a light green pantsuit bursts into the room, glass doors swinging behind her, before Sabrina can come up with a coherent reply.
“Sabrina! I finally have the mockups she wanted for the Marc Jacobs spread here,” She says, dumping a stack of plastic-bound photos onto Sabrina’s desk.
Sabrina blinks for a few seconds before finally getting ahold of herself and greeting the woman back. Then the woman notices Yennefer, and grins sunnily. And wow , she could be a model too. That particular kind of warm charm practically radiating off of her is unique.
“Oh, hello! I haven’t seen you before. I’m Triss,” She says quickly but kindly, grabbing Yennefer’s hand to shake twice before frantically diving in her bag for more documents.
“Thanks,” Sabrina says, thumbing through the photos. “And that’s Yennefer. Prospective employee, unfortunately.”
“Lovely to meet you, Yennefer! Best of luck!” Triss flashes her another quick grin as she places a photography company’s business card on Sabrina’s desk. “By the way dear, I’d hurry up if I were you. Tissaia’s here.”
Sabrina freezes. “What?”
“She’s here,” Triss echoes, shoving the last binder into Sabrina’s hands. “I have to go now!”
“But — But it’s only eight!” She cries.
“I’ll call you later, okay?” Triss manages, before bounding off back into the hallway.
“ Shit! ” Sabrina curses, clacking around the office space in her stilettos. Papers go flying as she shoves past Yennefer, scrambling to get everything ready in time. “Ugh — move!”
“Where should I go?” Yennefer asks, feeling fidgety just from watching the blonde prance about the room.
“I don’t care, just go! Leave, if you must!” Sabrina shrieks, fiddling with flyaway photos, and then just as quickly, smooths her face into a nervous smile. A woman that Yennefer assumes to be Tissaia enters the room.
“Ms. De Vries! You’re here… early,” Sabrina states awkwardly. Tissaia is draped in a high-collared silk blouse the color of soft sapphire, and diamond earrings worth more than Yennefer’s rent.
“Yes, and my coffee isn’t waiting for me. Are there any more facts you feel the need to recite?” Tissaia responds coolly, handing off her jacket and purse to Sabrina before turning around and spotting Yennefer standing in the corner.
Tissaia takes a step closer to her hiding spot, lifting her designer sunglasses gingerly to take a closer look at Yennefer. Tissaia sweeps her gaze discerningly over her outfit, then with all the iciness of a blizzard, meets Yennefer’s violet eyes with her own cool blue. The image of a lynx pops into Yennefer’s mind unbidden as she dares to hold eye contact with the shorter woman.
Then Tissaia glances down once again, and purses her lips slightly at the wrinkles on her khaki trousers. Yennefer is under the suffocating impression that she is being scrutinized in the way a housecat may watch a bird. Which is to say, ready for the kill.
“Who is this?” Tissaia says airily, gesturing offhandedly at Yennefer.
“She’s — That’s —“ Sabrina starts. “Um, she’s a mistake, actually. She was meant to be interviewed today for the assistant job, but obviously… a resumè can’t tell you everything.”
“Hm,” Tissaia hums, and strides into her office without another word. Yennefer turns back to face Sabrina, more than a little bewildered.
“You should go,” Sabrina hisses, ushering her towards the doors of the exit. “ Now .”
“But what about the interview?” Yennefer asks weakly as she’s being shepherded towards the clear glass.
“Nevermind the intervi —”
“Bring her in, Sabrina.” Tissaia calls, and the ushering stops.
“ Well . I suppose Ms. De Vries wants to see you,” Sabrina mutters. “Although I can’t imagine what for.”
“I haven’t got all day, Sabrina.” Tissaia calls once more, and Yennefer quickly darts into her private office.
“Good morning,” She greets Tissaia nervously, trying to smooth out the rumples in her outfit.
“Leave it alone,” She says, glancing at Yennefer from behind a pair of reading glasses. Yennefer stops immediately. “Why are you here?”
“Straight to the point, then.” Yennefer says nervously. Tissaia doesn’t smile back. “Right. Originally, I applied for several journalism jobs. But I only got one call back, from Aretuza Publications, and they put me under CONDUIT for an assistant position.”
Tissaia clasps her hands, closing an open binder of photos in front of her to respond. “What’s your name?”
“Vengerberg. Yennefer Vengerberg,” She supplies.
“Hm,” Tissaia hums vaguely in response. “So you’ve never read CONDUIT ?”
Yennefer swallows. “Um… no.”
Tissaia only raises an eyebrow in response.
“It was either this or Wagon World , so...”
“Your first mistake was not doing any research on CONDUIT or me. Your second is interviewing for a job for a fashion publication without any semblance of style.” Tissaia says, going back to flipping between pages of photos.
“Well, I think that really depends on personal opinion –”
“No, no. That wasn’t a question,” Tissaia says loftily. “You may go.”
Yennefer blanches. “W-what?”
Tissaia doesn’t deign to respond verbally, only waving her hand to dismiss Yennefer. Before she can think twice, Yennefer blurts out a last ditch attempt to be hired.
“Okay, maybe I don’t belong here. I’m not glamorous or fashionable, and I know nothing about CONDUIT . But I’m smart, a fast learner, and an even harder worker. I have a degree from Stanford. I’ve won national accolades for my journalism work.”
Tissaia only peers up, expressionless, at Yennefer from beneath her reading spectacles, and that alone prompts her to keep going.
“So yes, maybe I don’t care, but there’s a reason I was the one chosen to be interviewed.” She squares her shoulders proudly after her monologue, and promptly turns on her heels. “Thank you for your time, Ms. De Vries. I’m sure it’s very valuable.”
As Yennefer walks out, she’s met with a devastating glare from Sabrina, but she can’t bring herself to care. There would be more interviews, and there would be more jobs outside of Aretuza Publications.
She has better things to worry about than a fashion magazine.
———
She doesn’t have better things to worry about than a fashion magazine. In fact, she has been replaying the scene over and over in her head, because — well — Tissaia was right. There was no research she had done for CONDUIT . She was ill-prepared for the interview. It was out of order, speaking to Tissaia like that.
Yennefer relays the tale to her friends at the pub they frequent, burying her face in her hands as she tells them exactly what she said to Tissaia De Vries. She groans into her bottle of beer sadly, as if the bubbles might wash away her shame.
Then her mobile rings, and she yelps with surprise.
“Pick up, pick up!” Anica shrieks. Yennefer does, and is greeted with a familiar voice.
In no less than five sentences, Sabrina stiffly congratulates her on getting the position, and then immediately begins briefing her on Tissaia’s coffee order and other morning specifications.
“And remember, Yennefer,” Sabrina says tinnily. “A million girls would kill for this job. Keep that in mind for next month, you’ll need it.”
Then she hangs up, and Yennefer, who hasn’t gotten a single sentence in other than ‘Hello, who’s this?’ has to contain her shock.
She blinks, stunned, Istredd and Anica waiting for a reaction.
“Did you get the job?” He asks.
“I got the job,” Yennefer confirms breathlessly. “But — how ?”
“Maybe she liked your spirit,” Anica suggests, snorting over a sip of her beer.
“I insulted her profession, and then the other applicants.” Yennefer says, fanning her numb cheeks.
Istredd can’t hide his laugh. “Ha! I still can’t believe that happened. I also can’t believe you got the job.”
“Me neither,” Yennefer says, raising her bottle, and her friends follow suit. “But by Melitele’s grace, I’m no longer unemployed.”
“Cheers to that!” Anica grins.
“Now all you have to do is figure out how to look your coworkers in the eye while wearing those outfits of yours.” Istredd snickers.
“...Fuck off, Istredd.”