Timestamp: 10th of Fall Rosela had nearly forgotten about the Art of Seduction book. She had almost the whole season before she had to return it, unless the library notified her that someone else wanted it. Picking it up and running a finger over the embossed flower, she frowned at the thought of someone else in the city trying to learn seduction. It’s not that she didn’t like other women; just that she didn’t like competition. The thought of another woman stealing her prey made her heart seethe with jealousy. Sitting down at her table slowly, in an effort to practice masking her emotion, she slipped open the book with a finger. Skipping through the first few chapters, she came to where she had left off – The Opening Line. This chapter was less engrossing as the previous, likely due to the face that starting a conversation was likely to be dull, and something she’d never been good at to begin with. There were several genres of opening lines, and a master seductress could read which would be most successful as easily as reading a menu. Humorous prods, breezy observations, bold challenges, innocent questions, requests for help, simple greetings, etc. The opening line often depended on the success and underlying tone of the Look. Genres could cross and mix, but the aim was always to create an opening for Conversation. While a Look could be used and the rest of the seduction process abandoned thereafter, an Opening Line that didn’t then lead to Conversation could result in embarrassment and frustration. The budding seductress needed a plan for escaping failed opening lines without open anger, as such situations were an unfortunate, but inevitable, part of the learning process. Rosela dropped the book at the end of the section and crossed her arms anxiously. So she was inevitably going to embarrass herself doing this? Was it worth it? How does one prepare for that sort of thing? Instead of picking up the book again, she stood abruptly and began pacing. She imagined herself in a bar, Look and Opening Line skipped, clutching a drink in the center of a group of sniggering people. They were all Eypharian women, she realized, as she stopped pacing to analyze the thought. Now where did that come from? Deciding not to dwell on the thought, she looked down at the open book disdainfully. Come here often? You look a bit lonely. Mind if I join you? How about you buy me a drink and we go from there? She forced herself to envision more positive scenarios, with a series of strong, attentive, Akalak men. It cheered her immensely. It was too late to just give up. She’d just have to not fail then. |