Aetherland

Chapter 4: The Ring (part2)

Stepping inside the administrative buildings of Zeff, one is immediately struck by the stark contrast to the exterior. The interior is bathed in brilliant white, with expansive facade glass panels allowing sunlight to flood the space from every angle. Long, dramatic shadows cast by the sun's rays dance across the floor, lending a dynamic and almost ethereal quality to the atmosphere.

This design choice serves a dual purpose, both practical and symbolic. The sunlight that pours through the windows illuminates the interior, reducing the need for artificial lighting during the day and conserving valuable energy resources. At night, the outer black glass reflects the light within, ensuring that the buildings maintain their powerful presence even in darkness.

The space within is characterized by discipline and quiet efficiency. Employees and civilians engage in hushed conversations over cups of coffee, while others hurry about, focused on the tasks at hand. The air is filled with a sense of purpose and dedication, as if the individuals within these walls are acutely aware of the gravity of their responsibilities.

At the entrance, a wide table is staffed by impeccably dressed employees, their professional demeanor contributing to the overall impression of power and control.

The camera then focuses on a gloved hand adorned with a gleaming silver engagement ring. The bright red fabric standing out starkly against the muted tones of the government building. The hand moves gracefully from side to side, guiding the viewer's attention to the figure of a high-ranking gentleman clad in a sleek, tailored green smoke colored military suit. The lapel is adorned with the pin of Fusion Federation's emblem: a stylized triangle containing a brilliant spark, symbolizing the spark of nuclear power.

He moves with his spine straight, his head held high, his shoulders broad commanding all respect. His face, though naturally handsome, is overshadowed by an air of perpetual seriousness, his expression often a mask of controlled intensity. His left eye, obscured by a gleaming golden eye patch, adds an air of mystery to his already enigmatic persona. The remaining eye, a piercing cobalt blue, holds a depth that seems to peer into the very soul of those who dare to meet his gaze.

He moves through the throng of his subordinates as a ship cuts through placid water. Their bows, their murmurs congratulations – "Congratulations, sir" – are a constant, a low thrumming that barely registers in his consciousness. He feels their fear, their desperate desire for his approval, and it is a familiar, almost tedious sensation. He offers only the smallest of nods in return, a perfunctory gesture that betrays his complete lack of interest. Despite the congratulations and well-wishes that surround him, there is a distinct darkness in his eye, a stark contrast to the facade he maintains, hinting at the chaos that simmers beneath the surface.

Larissa Miller, a vision of sleek efficiency, emerges, weary yet determined. Her slender figure, draped in a tailored, dark suit and long skirt, moves with quiet grace. The contrast between her short, blonde hair and the severity of her attire is softened by a unique, cloth neckpiece, worn like a tie or bow, adding a touch of individuality. Her intense spring green eyes behind her thin rounded glasses, however, hold a depth that belies her professional facade. A pair of expensive, red designer earrings dangle from her lobes, catching the light and hinting at the woman beneath the executive.

The air in the high commission department thickens with anticipation as Ash finally enters. Larissa steps forward, her professional smile unwavering, but she offers a half-hearted "congratulations." The displeasure in her voice is unmistakable.

He barely acknowledges Larissa, his gaze fixed on the polished floor as he strides towards his office. His polished shoes click against the pristine tiles with an almost arrogant precision, each step resonating through the silent office.