Helena’s hands struck together at a slow, but nonetheless respectable, rate. Her bold green eyes finally left the horizon of the ruined city and looked upon the pale body of Valarie. There was no tingling, no sense, no soul or emotion left in the poor girl’s body. Perhaps that was another skill Helena could attribute to her ability, she could tell when someone was truly dead inside. Her eyes fluttered to Marcello and the sensation returned, the tingling that Helena could transform into the ability to feel his emotions and sense his past. Helena was not sentimental of commoners, but she did feel deeply for all creatures that possessed emotion by default. She wondered briefly if her ancestors had felt the same way that she did while watching an execution, they had been lofted above the commonfolk like herself, but had they felt connected to these other humans? They were indeed the same species. Weren’t they? Helena didn’t know the answer to this. So much of human history had been “revised” by Supreme scholars that she feared she would never know what the past was truly like.
Her pale hands dropped many beats before the rest of the elite quieted themselves. The border of the sea of commoners ebbed and flowed in rebellion. The police were shoving back desperate individuals who wanted to get their hands on the High King. The buzz of tasers grew present as one by one the policemen began to turn them on. Helena turned away from the scene, ready to leave it behind. If only she didn’t have to attend another political gathering. This wasn’t Helena’s land though, and she had to follow to customs instilled by the High King. It was a tradition for the most powerful to have a small party after an execution, as a sort of celebration she presumed.
The weight of distraction was too heavy for Helena to strike up conversation with those around her, and she slyly moved through the chipper mob of her own people. A couple of Senators tried to stop and speak to her Highness but Helena ignored all attempts of communication. It wasn’t until she was burrowing her way down a crowded hall that she was stopped by Eric. “There you are,” she said as an informal greeting. Listening to his words the weight lifted, her mind was able to focus on something substantial, something without emotional... business.
“Thank you,” Helena said curtly, remembering where she was to be. The gathering would be starting soon and she would have to pretend to be fully supportive of the High King. Helena started walking again and gestured for Eric to follow. “Escort me to the gathering?” she asked gently, as if it were an invitation and not an order.
“You’re proper enough,” she remarked at his attire while giving him a good pat on the shoulder. The slender brunette was well aware that her lanky footman had better things to do, but she was tired of being a constant orb of attention.“You do remember what happened last time, don’t you?” Helena asked this with playful eyes and a small laugh, like she actually needed to convince him. Maybe if Eric came with her the men of the United Province would get the hint. Not that Eric was King material, nor was he the least bit interesting to her in that way, but rather that none of them were King materiel. Social gatherings were like a hunting ground and with the young European Queen in residence it was almost pathetic how forward the men were. It was expected that the European Queen get married expediently, seeing as it would affix her and her future family to the throne, but Helena had no such desire.
Tugging at Eric's arm to remind him that she was to be escorted like a proper lady Helena continued with a “come along then,” and entered into the small hall made entirely of glass. The floor looked down into a deep tank that was filled with what Helena believed to the remainder of the rare and beautiful fish on this planet. The ceiling was curved and water gushed from the top, making the view of outside wavy and distorted. This was the only formal hall on the ground level and the water on the exterior of it was their best tactic at flushing out the other world. The furniture was also made of glass with accents of silver. It was as if Helena had stepped into a magnificent glass marble that held the world's most terrible people.
When she entered the beautiful hall she was handed a flute of champagne and her fur coat was removed. The High King or High Queen would surely toast about their success in finding the commoners leader and deflating their rebel cause. “Well, I think they’re just barbaric,” said Justice Peter Daniels, a red faced man with a portly stomach and legs that bowed out to support his weight. Despite his failing body his genetically modified cells made his face look strong and appealing, young even. If Mr. Daniels had been a man of his size and unsavory personality before the war, only his wealth would have been worthy bargaining chips. Helena kept walking, leading Eric as far as he would dare go (without actually looking like she was leading him). A tall blond man, whose name she thought was Jess Coulson, greeted her with two kisses upon the cheek like a Parisian. “Helena,” he had said in the most deliciously languid tone. At first she was lost in his pearly white smile and cool brown eyes but only a moment passed before she retorted. “It’s your Highness to you.” Jess straightened up, no longer slowly swooping down on what he thought was his prey. Her green eyes dared him to say another suggestive word. Unsure how to recover, Jess Coulson left without so much as a goodbye to the European Queen.
Helena shook her head before continuing her aimless strolling. She glided effortlessly amongst the people and only offered short nods and remarks of greeting for conversation after that. It wasn’t until she was approached by the flocking young Senator by the name of Camille Van Bueren that Helena felt tired.