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Sunday finds himself invited to an IPC gala celebrating the success of Penacony.
Success? He wants to laugh. He's had enough of the IPC for at least the next Amber Era, especially their Stonehearts. Unfortunately he has to accept for the sake of public appearances. It would look bad if someone other than the Oak Family's representative was present. Sunday's wings fluff in annoyance and he sighs. He turns over the envelope and glances at the return address.
Aventurine of Stratagems- Pier Point
Of course. Of course it had to be Jade's gay little lapdog. Of course it had to be that infuriating, unkempt, gambler. Sunday grits his teeth and tries not to scream in annoyance. Hopefully, Aventurine will behave in an orderly manner and not interact with him.
He can't bet on that.
~-~
Approximately 1 week, 6 days and 11 system hours later, Sunday enters the building where the gala is being held. The decor is gaudy, but he expects nothing less from Aventurine. Jade is the one who greets him, though, which surprises him.
"Good evening, Mr. Sunday. I hope this night lives up to one in your dreamscape." He doesn't even need the Harmony to see that she's up to no good. It's practically a requirement in the upper echelons of the IPC.
"I believe it shall. Tell Aventurine that I appreciate his gracious invitation."
"Why don't you tell him yourself? He's over there, gallivanting with that Doctor of his." She gestures towards the far corner of the room, where Aventurine is practically clinging to Ratio, right hand clutching his arm. It's his left hand that gives Sunday pause, however.
Aventurine is flaunting a gold laurel band around his ring finger.
From what little Sunday knows, it's unlike him to wear something so simple. The way he's showing it off, one could be forgiven for thinking it was a piece of his very own Cornerstone. Sunday freezes. Wait a minute. Laurels? THEY WEREN'T A SITUATIONSHIP?!
He can't help but scrutinize the rest of Aventurine's appearance. The gambler has chosen to accent his suit with an unfurled peacock tail. The feathers curl around his back and protrude behind his head like a halo. Sunday feels the urge to grab Aventurine and yank out his feathers. He wants to shake him by the collar and yell that he's nothing more than a poor imitation of a bird, but he keeps his mouth shut. He can't do that. At least not in public.
He buries his disgust and walks across the room to the couple. "Mr. Aventurine. Dr. Ratio. Allow me to express my utmost gratitude for your invitation, and my congratulations on your engagement."
Aventurine chuckles. "Mister Sunday, you can dispense with the formalities. Just call me Aventurine. I'm sure no hard feelings remain after Penacony."
How does he stay so unaffected by everything? Perhaps he's still riding the high of coming out of the Nihility alive. "Likewise," Sunday nods. "You may address me as Sunday. And you?" He nods to Dr. Ratio.
"Ratio."
Aventurine smiles. "I'm glad that we're all on a first name basis now. How's Robin doing?"
Sunday doesn't care much for small talk. Idle chatter leads to poverty, after all. He invests more effort into attempting to analyze Aventurine and Ratio, trying to figure out how he could have missed such an important detail in their relationship. They didn't even seem like they tolerated each other in Dewlight Pavilion.
Aventurine and Ratio share a loving glance and Sunday feels sick to his stomach. "Ratio," he asks, "Could I...borrow your fiance for a few moments?" He receives a nod in response, and Aventurine reluctantly unlatches himself from the doctor's arm.
~-~
The click of Aventurine's heels on the marble flooring is maddening. Sunday tries his best to tune it out, but it strangles his mind in the way a snake curls around a bird and prevents it from taking flight. The hallway seems to warp in front of him, transforming from the IPC's bureaucratic hell to the Penacony Grand Theater.
"Say, Sunday, mind telling me where we're going?"
Sunday whips around, blazing with anger. "Say, Avgin, mind shutting your mouth?" He pushes Aventurine into the wall, lording his height- the only advantage that he has -over him. Aventurine braces his hands against a tastefully placed side table as Sunday grips his shoulders. His extravagant peacock tail prevents his back from touching the wall, leaving him in a precarious position: Sandwiched between his own hubris and and an angry chicken.
"...Why did you do it, gambler? Why did you invite me to this?" Sunday shakes him back and forth.
"Ugh- Obviously to celebrate the newfound success of Penaco-"
"Don't play dumb. Do you intend to mock me? Do you intend to flaunt everything you have in my face? Well, you've won. You won in Penacony and you won again here, and you'll continue winning and winning, taking and taking until nobody is left to stand in your way because I have nothing compared to you." Sunday slumps down to look at Aventurine. "You tricked me, and you probably tricked Ratio too."
Aventurine stares at him, disgust, confusion, and anger all evident on his face. "This was all about Veritas? That's a low blow, even from you. Also," he pushes Sunday away, "Don't even pretend to know how it feels to have nothing." He attempts to walk back down the hallway, doubtless to Ratio's side, but Sunday will not accept defeat. He grabs Aventurine's hand, the one with the ring, and yanks him back.
"This has nothing to do with Ratio! It's about you and your Ena-damned eyes!" He extends his free hand behind Aventurine's back. "I can't stand you! What sins have I committed for The Order to punish me so!" He grips a handful of feathers and pulls. "Do you have any idea what you do to me? When I look into your eyes, I feel as if I have been rejected by my own god. You infuriate me." Sunday's wings madly flutter around his head, puffed up and angry. He drops Aventurine's feathers onto the floor and jabs his finger into the middle of his chest window. "Why couldn't you have joined The Family instead? We- I- I don't understand how you're okay with being a honey trap for the IPC!"
Aventurine doesn't know whether to feel insulted or flattered. Either way, he's absolutely gobsmacked. "Sunday, do you know what my job actually is? I'm a Senior Director of the Strategic Investment Department. Aeons, I'm a Stoneheart. There's no reason for me to get my hands dirty." He wraps his gloved hand around Sunday's and moves it away from himself. "I'm leaving. Veritas must be wondering what his wonderful fiance could possibly be doing."
"You can't just leave!" Sunday exclaims, "You need to hear me out, you at least owe me that much. Ever since I laid eyes on you in Dewlight Pavilion, I've been obsessed-"
"What the genuine fuck, Sunday? I'm literally engaged."
~-~
Veritas Ratio checks the time and almost crushes his glass. They've been gone for too long. What in the world are they up to? They couldn't be fucking. Aventurine wouldn't let it happen, and even if he did, Sunday is a square.
...
Pull yourself together, Veritas! Why was that your first thought!
Before he has time to think of a more realistic inference, Aventurine tugs hie tie downwards. "Oi, Doc. Miss me?
Ratio sighs. "Of course. What took you so long, dear? Would you mind telling me exactly what happened with Sunday, including the circumstances that lead to the partial destruction of your accessories?"
"What are you, jealous? Spare me, I've had enough jealousy for today." Aventurine laughs and hooks his arm back around Ratio. "You don't need to worry about Sunday. I'm not nearly as promiscuous as he thinks I am. Besides, I have you!"