10th Ashan, 722
One of the things which Zana had insisted on was that her office was comfortable and had places where she could sit and lounge. Currently, she was lounging and looking out of the window as she thought about things. On her agenda for to-trial were two jobs which she had to do.
The first one was to write out her job description. She had stared at that particular piece of parchment for a few breaks and she had been rather stumped. What idiots these people were, she thought, that they had all these roles and no one had defined them. No wonder people were poor fits or unsure of whether they wanted to apply for the role. Frankly, Zana thought, they didn't deserve her; they were unworthy of her presence on the Council. But it was a stepping stone and one which would allow her to, eventually, achieve a goal she had held dear for a very long time.
Basically, her goal in life was a simple one. Zana wanted to be rich. Not a little bit rich. Filthy, stinkingly, obscenely rich. Of course, it would be easy to think that this was her only goal, but that wasn't true either. Zana also wanted to be adored. Not liked, not loved, adored by all who knew her.
Frankly, she was very very sure that she deserved both of those things. Preferably right now.
Still, things were getting there. Between Devin and her new home of Smooglenuff Manor, and now her job, Zana thought she was going in absolutely the correct direction. Still, in order to keep going she had to shine and so she was going to work hard, until she had built things up sufficiently that she no longer had to. Thinking about this in terms of politics simply wasn't working for her, however, and so she decided to do what she was good at. She looked at it from the point of view of it being a brothel.
After all, each council member was, fundamentally, selling themselves. Their skills, their knowledge, their abilities to get the job done. So, they were the prostitutes. But her job, as Council Member for Foreign Affairs was to consider the brothel's place in the city, and it's relationship with other brothels, both friendly and unfriendly. Maybe also its relationship with other, related businesses such as breweries and the people who cleaned the bedding. Yes. Yes, that would work, Zana decided.
With a self-satified smile showing her delight at her own genius, Zana moved gracefully back to her desk and lowered her head to the parchment. Now, she could begin. It might not be politics, but she could understand it now and that meant that she could do something.
After all, if there was one thing that Zana Delroth was good at? She could fake it.
Your mouth, so hot. My web, you're caught.
Our skin, so wet. Black lace, on sweat.
Our skin, so wet. Black lace, on sweat.