"Mativyenko, Aya?"
He let out a hearty laugh, remotely mocking, "They call her 'promiscuous', to put it kindly, recently resituated here from Moscow." The man rolled his eyes, uninterested, giving a slight sarcastic chuckle in politeness. "She's mentioned in tales of plenty about town. They speak of her as beautiful." "What business has she with me? As far as I was concerned; a prostitute who likes to think herself as elegant wasn't exactly of my concern right now."
"Wouldn't you have thought it uncanny, though? Already in disrepute in her previous city, only to start anew here?" He replied. Only to be met with silence. The boy was well-known for his disregard and impertinent attitude he often took towards others, aswell as his idle demeanor which never seemed to shift. Aarzam Meskin, a tall, olive-skinned boy. Often remarked for simply his good-looks and aristocracy, although widely critizised for his not-so ardent approach to his duties as a boy born into a family as such, especially as the expected heir. Courteous and charming, though aloof and extremely hesitant, he was quite far from his goals which his parents had set for him.
"And, I think you'd be remotely aware of what is it I'm suggesting." His brother spoke. He paused, and sighed bitterly. "I don't care about what you're 'suggesting.' I'm not resorting to a fucking harlot to please our mother and father."
"You know what they expect, Aarzam. You're 22, yet you've been too withdrawn to draw any sort of female attention. Perhaps a harlot is your best bet, at this point anyway." He dismissed him completely, slightly vexed by his brother's attitude. Again, his remark was met with silence. As he left.
Aarzam settled himself, he'd had this talk various times before. It was overt that he wasn't desirous of commitment, lacking covet of the average life. Family, children, the very idea seemed to repulse him.
Yet, it was seemingly inevitable.
