- Aug 9, 2016
- 5,922
- Gender
- Male
- Pronouns
- Him/Her/Them
- Posting Status
- Daily, Weekly
Malara was hands-off in many ways with the day to day running of her business. She trusted her employees to do their jobs and keep the place running efficiently. If they couldn't, she could take care of that. She definitely didn't handle interviews and auditions most of the time. Malara knew what made a good model or actor, sure, but she couldn't be bothered most of the time to do that sort of thing.
This one was different though. This was a potential investor who also wanted to work for her.
She was down in the lobby, waiting for her appointment, one Imogen Grimm, to arrive. Her business hummed around her, most everyone familiar enough to know that stopping and gawking - while flattering for her - wasn't what they were meant to be doing. Malara stood next to her favorite piece of artwork in the lobby, her hair a nine foot tall column of flame cascading down her back to her knees. Her long black dress hugged her body in ways that were borderline obscene. But again, that was par for the course with Mal.
The art was the figure of a naked woman, standing triumphant and sensual atop a small hill of weapons and skulls. The woman herself was made of dozens of weapons as well, guns and swords all melted together and dipped in gold - so you could just barely make out the edge of a blade or the trigger of a rifle etched into her curves. In the statue's left hand, raised above its head was a facsimile of a planet made of glass.
Malara carried a stack of papers under her arm, neatly held in a red leather folio emblazoned with her company's logo in gold leaf. She checked in telepathically with her secretary to see what time it was, and whether she was going to have to strike off points with Imogen for tardiness.
This one was different though. This was a potential investor who also wanted to work for her.
She was down in the lobby, waiting for her appointment, one Imogen Grimm, to arrive. Her business hummed around her, most everyone familiar enough to know that stopping and gawking - while flattering for her - wasn't what they were meant to be doing. Malara stood next to her favorite piece of artwork in the lobby, her hair a nine foot tall column of flame cascading down her back to her knees. Her long black dress hugged her body in ways that were borderline obscene. But again, that was par for the course with Mal.
The art was the figure of a naked woman, standing triumphant and sensual atop a small hill of weapons and skulls. The woman herself was made of dozens of weapons as well, guns and swords all melted together and dipped in gold - so you could just barely make out the edge of a blade or the trigger of a rifle etched into her curves. In the statue's left hand, raised above its head was a facsimile of a planet made of glass.
Malara carried a stack of papers under her arm, neatly held in a red leather folio emblazoned with her company's logo in gold leaf. She checked in telepathically with her secretary to see what time it was, and whether she was going to have to strike off points with Imogen for tardiness.