Ivan and Alfred are the CEOs/in the positions of negotiators for companies that have recently become fierce competitors. They're 'negotiating' for some kind of company stock/marketing compromise/etc using whatever dirty tactics they deem necessary.
They kind of like each other upon their first meeting, which turns into really heavy sexual tension but they can't show it and it drives them to work harder against each other because that was how they were conditioned in their workplaces.
I haven't written in a while, so I do hope this is alright.~ Please enjoy.
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1a1/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 08:48:02 UTC
Because apparently, I'm over character limit, part 1A will be divided into two parts. ---- The clouds hung desperately white against the painted blue sky, blown to and fro by the gentle winds that caressed them as though they were Heaven’s children. There was just a sufficient amount of light outside to be able to grasp view the picturesque image that was only ever unique when one was at this certain altitude… but the male that chattered away against the small, square window of the airplane was much too engrossed in clacking away at his laptop to pay much note to anything else.
“Two hours,” he muttered in a low tone, the phone tucked comfortably between his shoulder and ear. “I will be expecting my ride there, and I shall also be expecting that today’s schedule run its course promptly and smoothly. I do not wish for there to be unforeseen circumstances, yes? SpasibaWith a low beep, the phone was set on the foldable table. The male sighed, flexing his fingers against the flat, black keyboard. Why was it so difficult to find decent,
( ... )
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1a2/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 08:49:14 UTC
“… Sir?”
He looked up then, blearily blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until the voice cut through his haze-filled nap. “Da- I mean, yes?”
The flight attendant smiled, gesturing to the cart next to her. “Will you be having pork, chicken, beef, or vegetarian?”
“Ah…” It was already time for food? He glanced at his watch; it’d been four hours since the flight. Understandable. “Beef then, please. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Ivan leaned back, allowing her perfectly manicured nails to rummage through the bins of food that had already been prepared. Every now and again, he would catch her watching him from his peripheral vision, and dismissed it as an American thing. A fascination with foreigners, as it were. He made no more note of it
( ... )
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1b1/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 08:53:40 UTC
Ivan had far too much experience with jet lag for it to bother him now, although he did wobble a little as he disembarked the plane. Bluetooth headset in his ear, he immediately withdrew from the outside world as he babbled, barking orders to fix up something here and there. He pulled his bags along with on hand, shrugging his carry on his shoulder, and made his way into the airport.
It hadn’t been two seconds when he was met with his assistant.
“Eduard, my bags,” he ordered. Eduard nodded, taking the baggage in his own hands and trotting along behind him. “If you jostle them and break anything inside, there will be hell to pay. I did not travel across the ocean to have my fragile valuables break, do you understand?”
Eduard nodded once more, fixing up the glasses that were falling down the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to keep up with the larger man’s pace. It was difficult to do so, what with the throngs of other businessmen who had arrived at about the same time. He had to manage, however.
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1b2/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 08:54:09 UTC
Ivan sighed as he tossed off his outer coat to the side, glancing suspiciously at the stack of papers meticulously arranged on the foldable table. With small reluctance, he flicked through them quickly, relieved to see that at least, Raivis wasn’t as useless as the quivering mass as he’d put himself out to be. Everything seemed to be in order; the only task that needed doing was the actual sorting through and signing. It was meticulous, so meticulous, but it had to be done
( ... )
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1c1/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 09:00:18 UTC
The meeting was not off to an auspicious start.
Barely five minutes into the actual meeting, catastrophic after catastrophic event had been unleashed on the unsuspecting victims. The overhead projector had adamantly refused to work for any of the businessmen, and even with the best technicians that were available at around that time, they had come to a conclusion that the blasted machine would just not yield. Not only that, the meeting room had been diverted at the last minute due to the fact that the supposed rendezvous point was undergoing some amount of renovation, and it would have been impossible to hold a meeting there. But the janitors of the newer room had, unfortunately, not been informed of this, and now half of the prim men walked around with white, circular paint marks all over the backs of their suits. And if that wasn’t enough, it had started raining, and the said room they now gathered in did not have a particularly good drainage system, and paperwork after paperwork now clung together in a meshed mess
( ... )
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1d1/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 09:03:32 UTC
Toris Laurinaitis. At twenty-three, he was at a ripe age to work, especially considering his rather unfortunate family circumstances. Having been married at the young age of twenty, he’d ended up being divorced by his Polish bride, leaving him alone to wander up and down the streets of New York. Various phone calls down the job agency, and he’d been hired to become Ivan’s right-hand man. Unlike most other personal secretaries, the male had a way of getting things done. What he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in his perseverance and orderliness. All in all, the perfect candidate. Ivan favoured him above the two others.
Eduard von Bock. A rather meticulous and studious young man, he’d apparently graduated Harvard with the highest honours. He had more of a serious streak than Toris, and could never, never be found without a Blackberry, a laptop, or some sort of electronic device in hand. One could even call him a “tech wiz”. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Ivan always seemed to be lost around that sort of thing (blame the
( ... )
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1d2/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 09:03:59 UTC
The building had become eerily quiet in the few moments he had stormed out, and he could only guess that the others had also taken this time to fix themselves up. There was no doubt that since the five hour meeting would be shortened into a measly three, everyone would be cracking down on everyone else, and not too many took too kindly to that sort of pressure. He, on the other hand, was prepared for such nonsense, although he still dearly hoped that whoever had changed the meeting point at the last minute would pay.
He’d do it himself, if it was in his area. But as it was, he had no such luck. Ah, well. Perhaps next time.
The meeting room was devoid of any life, and upon closer inspection, devoid of any papers, either. Ivan clicked his tongue in annoyance; he was most definitely not insane. He knew he had left them here, right on his desk - the third seat from the left. Surely, no one would attempt to actually take them. And if someone had, he would most likely brew them in a pot of boiling lava then throw them in Siberia while
( ... )
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1e1/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 09:06:01 UTC
It didn’t take long for Ivan to realize that he was now, more or less, on a wild goose chase. The running around proved futile, as most of the doors were locked, and most everyone had evacuated the building in favour of more high-class venues. After about ten minutes of running around, he finally settled for resting against an open window. A breath of fresh air would do him some good - or as fresh as the air around here could get. He’d been wandering around for who-knew-how-long, and still, no such luck. He promised to wreak tenfold amount of vengeance towards the thief who dared steal his precious documents than he’d originally planned
( ... )
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1e2/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 09:07:15 UTC
Right, top floor.
Ivan briskly padded through the hallways, not expecting much luck on his side the second time around.
But luck had other plans… mostly in the form of a giant mass of human smacking him dead straight in the middle of his stomach, sending him and papers sprawling all over the floor. He groaned, rubbing his head.
His sound of pain was soon matched by another, and he blinked as he looked up, slowly recovering.
“Shit, that hurt,” came the first words from the blonde male slumped on his behind. How absolutely profane. No apologies? Certainly, this child needed to be taught some manners
( ... )
Re: The Mind Forgets What It Doesn't Want to Forget [1e2/e]
anonymous
January 23 2012, 12:07:16 UTC
Kick-ass fill you've got going here, author! The characterization is great, Ivan is a bastard but totally relatable anyway, and the trembling trio! Also liking the little we've seen of Alfred. Even in the corporate world, he's so casual and just damn awesome.
Ivan and Alfred are the CEOs/in the positions of negotiators for companies that have recently become fierce competitors. They're 'negotiating' for some kind of company stock/marketing compromise/etc using whatever dirty tactics they deem necessary.
They kind of like each other upon their first meeting, which turns into really heavy sexual tension but they can't show it and it drives them to work harder against each other because that was how they were conditioned in their workplaces.
I haven't written in a while, so I do hope this is alright.~ Please enjoy.
Reply
----
The clouds hung desperately white against the painted blue sky, blown to and fro by the gentle winds that caressed them as though they were Heaven’s children. There was just a sufficient amount of light outside to be able to grasp view the picturesque image that was only ever unique when one was at this certain altitude… but the male that chattered away against the small, square window of the airplane was much too engrossed in clacking away at his laptop to pay much note to anything else.
“Two hours,” he muttered in a low tone, the phone tucked comfortably between his shoulder and ear. “I will be expecting my ride there, and I shall also be expecting that today’s schedule run its course promptly and smoothly. I do not wish for there to be unforeseen circumstances, yes? SpasibaWith a low beep, the phone was set on the foldable table. The male sighed, flexing his fingers against the flat, black keyboard. Why was it so difficult to find decent, ( ... )
Reply
He looked up then, blearily blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until the voice cut through his haze-filled nap. “Da- I mean, yes?”
The flight attendant smiled, gesturing to the cart next to her. “Will you be having pork, chicken, beef, or vegetarian?”
“Ah…” It was already time for food? He glanced at his watch; it’d been four hours since the flight. Understandable. “Beef then, please. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Ivan leaned back, allowing her perfectly manicured nails to rummage through the bins of food that had already been prepared. Every now and again, he would catch her watching him from his peripheral vision, and dismissed it as an American thing. A fascination with foreigners, as it were. He made no more note of it ( ... )
Reply
It hadn’t been two seconds when he was met with his assistant.
“Eduard, my bags,” he ordered. Eduard nodded, taking the baggage in his own hands and trotting along behind him. “If you jostle them and break anything inside, there will be hell to pay. I did not travel across the ocean to have my fragile valuables break, do you understand?”
Eduard nodded once more, fixing up the glasses that were falling down the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to keep up with the larger man’s pace. It was difficult to do so, what with the throngs of other businessmen who had arrived at about the same time. He had to manage, however.
“And where is Raivis? I expect ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Barely five minutes into the actual meeting, catastrophic after catastrophic event had been unleashed on the unsuspecting victims. The overhead projector had adamantly refused to work for any of the businessmen, and even with the best technicians that were available at around that time, they had come to a conclusion that the blasted machine would just not yield. Not only that, the meeting room had been diverted at the last minute due to the fact that the supposed rendezvous point was undergoing some amount of renovation, and it would have been impossible to hold a meeting there. But the janitors of the newer room had, unfortunately, not been informed of this, and now half of the prim men walked around with white, circular paint marks all over the backs of their suits. And if that wasn’t enough, it had started raining, and the said room they now gathered in did not have a particularly good drainage system, and paperwork after paperwork now clung together in a meshed mess ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Eduard von Bock. A rather meticulous and studious young man, he’d apparently graduated Harvard with the highest honours. He had more of a serious streak than Toris, and could never, never be found without a Blackberry, a laptop, or some sort of electronic device in hand. One could even call him a “tech wiz”. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Ivan always seemed to be lost around that sort of thing (blame the ( ... )
Reply
He’d do it himself, if it was in his area. But as it was, he had no such luck. Ah, well. Perhaps next time.
The meeting room was devoid of any life, and upon closer inspection, devoid of any papers, either. Ivan clicked his tongue in annoyance; he was most definitely not insane. He knew he had left them here, right on his desk - the third seat from the left. Surely, no one would attempt to actually take them. And if someone had, he would most likely brew them in a pot of boiling lava then throw them in Siberia while ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Right, top floor.
Ivan briskly padded through the hallways, not expecting much luck on his side the second time around.
But luck had other plans… mostly in the form of a giant mass of human smacking him dead straight in the middle of his stomach, sending him and papers sprawling all over the floor. He groaned, rubbing his head.
His sound of pain was soon matched by another, and he blinked as he looked up, slowly recovering.
“Shit, that hurt,” came the first words from the blonde male slumped on his behind. How absolutely profane. No apologies? Certainly, this child needed to be taught some manners ( ... )
Reply
Really looking forward to reading more!
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