Snippet #2707153

located in The Republic, a part of The Gilded, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Republic

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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Silas Buchanan Character Portrait: Ren Truscott Character Portrait: Luisa Dubois Character Portrait: Laurence Perry Character Portrait: Magnolia T. Krane Character Portrait: Edmund P. Gray Character Portrait: Rosemary Eleanor Darcy Character Portrait: Priscilla Johnson Character Portrait: Alanus McCloud Character Portrait: Meredith Joplin Character Portrait: Canan Character Portrait: Xena Dawn Character Portrait: Aris Lincoln Character Portrait: Quartz M. Jones
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The problem with having the wealth and power that he did meant that it often fell on Silas to host his peers and their over-the-top demands when it came time for holidays or any other celebration. One such holiday had always been welcoming in the new year in the dead of winter. Temperatures in Arcadia never reached above forty degrees in the winter, and a thin sheet of snow coated everything.

A unforgiving wind whipped through the streets that day, driving most Patricians into the cover of their automobiles to reach whatever party they would be attending. Silas's was only for the cream of the crop, of course. A man in his position could not afford to invite those who didn't belong there. Despite that, his home seemed packed to the brim. The manor stood on the edge of Arcadia, in the same place his mentor had begun its construction so many years ago. And now, here it was - a looming, multi-story thing of near-palatial quality.

It was Harvey who had requested the layout that, frankly, had no place among the most modern pieces of architecture. It seemed to glow in the moonlight, the white of the building reflecting the light like a beacon. A courtyard in the center stretched the length of the mansion, but it had been covered for the comfort of the party-goers.

It was in the courtyard that Silas stood now, engaged in a conversation with far too many people at once. Like most of the conversations that night, it involved talk about the recent protests that had sprung up in smaller, less significant cities across The Republic earlier that day. That was the problem with mass media, he found - news spread far too quickly. He hadn't even had time to be briefed before the concerned phone calls came into his secretary and the more influential Patricians appeared at his doorstep.

"It's outrageous, I say," blubbered a woman to his right. She was a journalist, he recalled, one of the first who had appeared on his doorstep that morning. "The gall of some...frankly, I don't see what they plan to accomplish." She turned quickly, facing Silas with a hungry look in her eyes. "What do you make of it?"

Societal change slips under our noses, suddenly integrates itself into life.

He had been watching Canan from a slight distance, having let her wander off among the flowers in the garden. Once upon a time, that could have - would have - been him. He had been so young then, but here he stood, a changed man. He could hardly imagine a life without the Gilded.

It was ironic that despite all of his schooling, he had seemed to forget one of the earliest lessons he had learned as a child, that there was an ugly side to the Gilded that the media, the endless commercials and promotions didn't show. He could hardly remember a time without the looming presence of the Gilded.

"We...owe it to the people of The Republic to let them speak for themselves," he began, his hand tightening for a moment on his tumbler of some drink he had long forgotten about. "But we will ensure their civil liberties do not infringe upon those of other citizens." He gestured about the circle, his hand almost hesitating as he gestured past a few of the Gilded that stood by their respective Patricians.

He looked to the journalist now, and she gave a slow nod, already pounding his words into her sleek cellular device with her thumb. They would be across the nation in just minutes. An urge struck him, and he downed the rest of his drink before excusing himself and walking towards the bar, seeking something else to calm newly frazzled nerves.