The Tues Ku'fay Auction House - Drev'starn, Bothawui
There were occasionally times that wealth and status could be burdensome. Philanthropic auctions were one such time. These public events served two purposes that reasonably-important people craved: they allowed one to collect exclusive items that would be the envy of their peers, and the proceeds of such sales often went to well-publicized charities that shed a very public light on one's (incentivized) generosity. Be that as it may, these events were stuffy, long, and above all else they tended to be boring save for the few moments an item of interest would be on the dais for bidding.
Senator Taataani Meorrrei fidgeted slightly in her seat, careful to guard against sudden movements that might be misinterpreted as a bid on what appeared to be an utterly nondescript-looking chair. Now that was patently absurd. Drowsy eyes blinked as she looked to the brochure in her lap. tapping through the holo flimsi until she arrived at the ad nauseum details about a chair that had been certified as a reception chair owned by Xim the Despot. Bidding started at half a million credits...for what was essentially a desk chair so old that no one would dare sit on it anyway. Taataani's face bunched as she inspected the heirloom. It looked dreadfully uncomfortable. Her derriere shifted in her seat, as if recoiling from the thought of imagined tactile nightmares to retreat into the satiny and plush sanctuary.
She wanted to yawn, thinking the better of it as her jaw tensed and she merely grimaced with sleepy eyes, glancing to the right in time to see Countess Sarpin from the Hapes Cluster actively bidding on the rickety horror. Indeed, more than a few faces in the auction house were Alliance senators. Almost as many as there were genuine auction enthusiasts and nearly as many as there were the fake enthusiasts who were more likely Bothan spies attending purely to spy on group A.
Ah, the spies. Truly what gave Bothawui its flavor. Oh they were all friends, surely. To some degree or another. At first, Taataani bristled against them. Then, she tolerated their nuissance. Now, she actively employed a few of them herself. Indeed, thanks to the SpyNet, she probably knew what Niev Minetii of Sullust was having for breakfast before he even got the plate.
"Anotherr hourr of thjiss monotonjy..." she whispered low to her ever-present assistant, Kallum Romanoch. "...make ssurre jI don't fall assleep. jI have to get that pajintjing. The one Fasshieerro enjojyss sso."
Some slapdash thing called Songbird and Starlight, apparently from a particularly off-cuff artistic period on Naboo about three hundred years ago. Lots of beautiful colors but the brushwork was blotchy. Apparently that was the desired effect. Sometimes, Taataani had to wonder if the world of art was just some masterfully-packaged con game. It could've been finger paintings for all she cared. If it made her husbands happy and kept the peace at home, she'd pay a queen's ransom for that. Occasionally you had to throw your lovers a few baubles.
The bidding continued at a sustained pace. Countess Sarpin and an Ishi Tib Taataani didn't recognize appeared to be driving the price over the million mark. The Hapan crone's lip line continued to thin, and she sat a little straighter in her seat each time the price went up.
"jYou musst be jokjing."
Bookmarks