- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- Writing Levels
- Preferred Character Gender
- Sci-fi, fantasy, magical, modern, Steampunk
Emilie Riebau | 20 | Commoner
The instant Eloise recognized Emilie, she turned the encounter from terribly awkward to utterly surreal. "Fate," she said, pointing at Emilie like an Oracle revealing an omen. She hurried over to make an introduction to the young man with a disturbing degree of eagerness.
"Radiating?" Emilie stammered. Her mind flashed to some of her efforts at improving the efficiency and power of the Sterling Air Engine. Thus far, she had found that increasing the temperature gradient between the heated cylinder and ambient air improved efficiency and power output, but her efforts to raise the concentration of heat on the working fluid while maintaining the temperature gradient had thus far proven unsuccessful. The fact that there was as yet no proper theory on how heat actually worked did not help. It seemed to radiate away from concentrated sources, making it extremely difficult if not impossible to focus effectively, while spreading in ways that made the temperature gradient challenging to maintain as more heat was added to the system. But of course Eloise could not possibly be talking about that.
She went on to postulate that Emilie was a rival to her brother, and comment cryptically about her gown being blue, twice. What? Is there some preposterous rule against blue gowns-- Emilie thought, cut short by the way the young man was looking at her as if she'd just descended from Heaven on a ray of light to the celestial music of an angelic choir.
Which made absolutely no sense. He had not attended any of the Professor's exhibitions, of that Emilie was sure. Even if he had, it was not as if her role covered her in extraordinary fame or wealth. She sincerely doubted he could even have known of her existence before this moment.
"Not a rival Miss Eloise, our interests are orthogonal," Emilie said hastily, then fumbled her way through a curtsy in return for Mr. Vielfaure's bow. "It's a...a...pleasure to meet you," she lied (the meeting was far too strange to count as 'pleasant')...Mister--Vielfaure," she said, her voice adding rather too much 'Aha!' as the familiar name clicked once pronounced correctly. "Might you be related to a Léona Vielfaure? A patroness of the Roosevelt School for All Children? Wineries?" she said, inwardly kicking herself for her complete lack of eloquence.