poor unfortunate souls

Yeah, you've got it all, But you've got it all wrong. No, you don't know You're a poor unfortunate soul. Oh I know, You make it seem that you feel whole, So they don't know at all.

[avantikaa-blog1]

samaira-hussein:

      Leaning back on the comfy chair with a content sigh as the assistant started massaging her feet, her eyes fluttered opened in mild surprise that soon dissolved into disinterest as she spotted the woman a few chairs away from her. She should’ve probably kept her mouth shut, but…

   “With the media worshipping those celebs and drawing inspiration from them… you shouldn’t be questioning the slow death of fashion!!”

               SHARP EYES GLANCED towards the sound of the voice, and it was to see resident nice girl Samaira Hussein sitting a few seats away from her. She chuckled at the words, and looked back down to flip a page, making a small sound as she came across more mediocrity. 

              “I suppose it is too much to hope the industry goes back to it’s former glory if the Kardashian-Jenner clan just up and die...” 

[avantikaa-blog1]

alvircs:

Baffled by Avantika’s query, Alvira narrowed her eyes. No such thing had happened. At least not with Saint Laurent— it had happened with a fair few previously. Balmain almost instantly as Olivier was appointed. She had a personal dislike for the man who’d led the house to its ruin.

“Sworn off?” she shook her head, “you seem to be mistaken or have latched onto the wrong rumour.” It happens often but not with Avantika. Alvira thought the other woman knew better than to pay attention to the hearsay that they were all subject to.

               AVANTIKA AHUJA WASN’T someone who was ever mistaken, but it seemed like there was a first time for everything. She made a small sound, and glanced at the shoes again before giving Alvira a ghost of a smile. “I seem to be mistaken,” she said, almost impassively. “Must have been someone else I know.”

               It was rare for her to be mistaken, but Avantika took it with the grace of someone who had been put in her place more times than she could count. The old saying about children being particularly cruel had been something that the woman had experienced first hand in her life. “Will you be at the Hooda charity gala tonight?”

[avantikaa-blog1]

goddesserpentine:

Riya can’t help but notice the slight smirk appearing on Avantika’s lips as she continues walking, and it annoys her. It annoys her to the point that she’s ready to turn around and ask what the woman wants, but she can’t falter in her reserve. She’s made a promise to herself that she will rise above this, and Avantika is just another paramour—

Except she isn’t, and that is the problem. If the older woman had just been another fling, Riya knows she wouldn’t be behaving as such. And yet she can’t bring herself to want to treat Avantika like she’s disposable. Which is why she eventually turns around, a tempered smile on her face, one that reeks of quiet discontent.

“I hope you weren’t trailing after me for a quote, Avantika.”

Even the name tastes just as she did; dark, bittersweet and sinful.

              AVANTIKA HAD TRIED to teach Riya to control her tells, but it was to no avail. So it is more a little amusing to see her try and appear calm. It isn’t as if she’s trying very hard to hide it anyway, but Avantika knows when she’s pissed Riya off. The look on her face isn’t anything like this. This is more of a... mild irritation. 

               Fingers trailing on the rim of her espresso cup, the smirk on her lips becomes more pronounced as Riya turns back to her. She chuckled at Riya’s words, a small part of her feeling desperate for more from the woman. God, how she craves it. Her phone lights up with a notification, and her eyes flicker to it, glancing away just as quickly, and back to Riya. 

              It doesn’t do well to forget who she is. Avantika Ahuja doesn’t crave anything. She doesn’t want anything unless it’s beneficial to her image or her bank account. Oh, but how she does, how she does. A quirk of her lips, and she speaks. “Come now, Riya. I’d at least buy you a drink first.” It tastes like heaven– the taste of her name against her lips, but far be it for her to actually react in such a manner.

[bollydastaan]

[avantikaa-blog1]

nikhil-rp:

Nikhil let out an audible chuckle at her words and shook his head promptly, glancing back at her in amusement. “Do you honestly think I just sit around reading case files all day? I have associates for that.” He explained, straightening his suit with a sigh. “And no, Delhi’s best closer never runs out of cases.” He knew he sounded vain, but he had the right to be. With a case record like his it was easy to get a little cocky. Besides, he’d earned it. 

“So tell me, Avantika.” Nikhil was already spending much more time than he’d anticipated at the coffee shop, however he hadn’t predicted running into the socialite. 

“Do you often find yourself wasting your time at The Coffee Mill?”

                “You don’t want to know half the honest thoughts in my head, Mr. Mehta.” The words weren’t a threat by any means, and they weren’t a warning of any sort either. They just alluded to the fact that she knew a lot more than she let on. There’s a laugh at his next statement. Never let it be said that the Mehta men can’t sound overtly grandiose. “Now, now, don’t be modest on my account...”

                There’s a chuckle, and Avantika glanced up at the standing Mehta. “Depends on your definition of wasting time, Nikhil,” she said, “I happen to be part of the few who can mix business and pleasure,” she said simply,  “And what about you?”

[avantikaa-blog1]

shivrathod:

There were two types of people in this world, according to Shiv. The kind who appreciated the deep hue of whiskey, the one true love of his life, and those who did not. And judging by the very much ignored glass in front of the woman, he had a bad feeling she might belong to the latter. 

“Well if perfection herself is viewing it… how can anything possibly match up?” 

His grin is effortless and he spins his own glass for a while before reaching out for the glass across the table. The whiskey practically called out to him - how could he possibly resist? 

“So. Tell me. How can I be of service?”

               SHE DIDN’T EXPECT a response from Shiv, of all people, but she wasn’t surprised by it either. He seemed to have an inability to mind his own business. Perhaps that was what made him as successful as he was. He was the quintessential businessperson in Avantika’s eyes. Someone who talked and conned their way to the top, and managed to stay there. He was a trader, more than anything, Avantika had realised a few years ago. A trader of secrets, stories and lies. He’d make a very powerful ally, if not for his close association with Riya. 

               A chuckle escaped her at his compliment. He was the type of person who was on a permanent ‘flirt’ setting. She then spoke, her words light, airy. “I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with the mediocre then, hmm?” 

               Her gaze sharpened as she followed his hand as he reached for her glass, and as soon as his hand was close enough to reach the glass, her eyes shot up to meet his. Did he intend on taking it? She knew it seemed like her glass was lonely, but it wasn’t neglected, not really. She simply preferred to enjoy her whisky instead of downing it as though it was cheap McDowell’s instead of something that demanded to be savoured. 

              “Nothing specific. Perhaps I was in the mood for some decent company...” she said, crossing her legs, she angled her body to face him, and eyed him, almost critically. “Although, I suppose you could always buy me another drink,” she said, gesturing vaguely to his hovering hand. 

[avantikaa-blog1]

alvircs:

She nods in agreement with Avantika— a rarity in itself. Not because they clashed often, no. For that to happen, they would have had to spend more time in the same place save for a soirée. 

“Until they cease to have takers and that is probably going to be well past our lifetime.” There was a very fine line in appreciating couture for what it was and becoming a slave to the industry and its ever-changing trends. Alvira preferred to set them rather than follow them; always a leader, never a follower.

“It’s only going to get worse. And there lies the beauty of custom pieces.”

               THERE WAS A pause as Avantika contemplated Alvira’s words, and then she nodded. Perhaps that was the difference between old money and new money. She chuckled, glancing back down at the magazine and then back to Alvira.

              “Of course,” she reached for her purse, ready to leave, when she happened to catch a glimpse of the socialite’s shoes. She looked at the girl and raised a well manicured eyebrow. “Wasn’t it not too long ago that you’d sworn off of Saint Laurent? What changed?” 

[avantikaa-blog1]

nikhil-rp:

Nikhil leaned against a nearby bar table and swirled what was left of his espresso in the small glass, watching Avantika over the rim as she shifted. He knew all about this game she played. Of course, he and his friends often joked that if there were bards, they would have written songs about it to warn lone travellers. She was most certainly a modern day siren. 

“Terrified, Avantika.” Her name rolled off his tongue as he held her gaze with a slightly mischievous look in his eyes. His eyebrows shifted upwards slightly after his rebuttal and he set down his drink with a half smile playing at his lips. 

It was moments like these that warranted the people around him to believe there was something more to his cool, sharp demeanor. That underneath the perfectly tailored suit, there was someone else, hiding. But it always seemed to come to play in the courtroom. Something about conversing with Avantika gave him a similar rush. 

               TO THE UNTRAINED eye, it would have looked like a simple conversation between two people. Those who knew the inner workings of of Delhi’s elite would have seen a very different sight indeed. An insider would have seen two predators circling each other. Not that there was anything serious enough about their conversation to be called an attack. A game, perhaps. She placed her cup back on the table, and glanced back up at him.

              “Oh, how you flatter me,” she replied with a chuckle, glancing at him. His words didn’t surprise her so much as the way he said them. It was easy to believe there was nothing more than a workaholic hidden behind that beautifully tailored suit, but as with most social circles, there was always more than what met the eye. 

              Manicured fingers flipped another page of the magazine that lay on the table, and she spared it but a glance, before her eyes were drawn back to Nikhil. How did he find enough time to look up from a file to actual walk out of his office? She tilted her head, and let her fingers play with the rim of her mug as she spoke again. “Did you run out of cases?”

[avantikaa-blog1]

nikhil-rp:

“Well isn’t that the truth.” Nikhil muttered to himself, scanning her face when she smiled. Avantika was the one girl that had completely confused Nikhil growing up. How was it that someone with a smile so inconceivably warm and bright have such a dark, cold soul. And if eyes were indeed the window to the soul, she had mastered the art of closing those designer curtains and fooling whomever she wished to. 

It was true, Nikhil could easily find himself staring at the golden goddess in front of him from time to time, measuring the length of her thick, luscious eyelashes and the way they perfectly framed her beautiful almond eyes. Or find himself hypnotised by the way her dimples would rarely make an appearance and catch him off guard. However, Nikhil knew not to play with fire, and Avantika Ahuja was as hot as they came.

“Perhaps I simply avoid places that you frequent, Ms. Ahuja.” 

He suggested, hiding the smirk that had momentarily shown on his face as he pulled out his phone to skim through a few work emails. He knew that Avantika wouldn’t be too fond of this certain strand of rudeness, and he wasn’t trying to provoke the girl. Not entirely anyway.

               THERE WERE A few muttered words, and Avantika chose to ignore them. If they were important, Nikhil would have spoken louder. She’d made it a habit not to waste her time over lingering thoughts and whispered breaths. It didn’t help anyone, least of all her. She glanced at him, her eyes sharp, and keenly aware of him; he looked good. There was no secret to knowing that Avantika appreciated pretty things, and Nikhil was as pretty as he was serious. It was the latter that kept her well manicured claws away from him. 

               She smirked at his words. There were two ways they could be taken, and whether he knew it or not, he’d handed her a weapon. She shifted and angled her body to face him, crossing one leg over the other. She watched him, the sharpness of her gaze softened by a practised cover. “Are you that scared of me, Nikhil?” The words were spoken as she lifted her slightly sweetened cappuccino for a sip. 

[avantikaa-blog1]

nikhil-rp:

Nikhil was picking up his espresso when he heard the soft murmur of a voice, sounding almost as if it was aimed at him. When he glanced casually to his right however, he knew that it wasn’t the case. Not that he didn’t have thoughts on the fashion industry, other than the fact that the so called walking art pieces were getting more and more ridiculous by the day. More so that he knew the girl wouldn’t openly spark up a conversation with him in public, let alone on a topic as mundane as the fashion industry. 

“You know, most people would be admitted into institutions for talking to themselves.”

               THE QUESTION WAS posed to no one specifically. A dare, more like, to see if anyone was willing to strike up a conversation with a shark. The Coffee Mill was a place frequented by a lot of Delhi’s elite, but the man to her left was hardly ever seen outside his office, if ever. She glanced at him, and smirked in greeting. 

               “Most people aren’t me,” she replied with an imperceptible grin. A pause. “It’s rare to see you in public, Mr. Mehta...”

[avantikaa-blog1]

alvircs:

“Before McQueen died. Now they’re just working overtime in an effort to ape him.” In vain, for that level of creative genius couldn’t be matched.

They don’t talk, not really. Alvira’s loyalty lies with Riya. But a fleeting comment here and there was often passed; for the Raichand heir almost always found it difficult to resist a shredding down— even if it were merely of the fashion industry.

               AVANTIKA’S EYEBROW HITCHES up by an imperceptible fraction. She hadn’t expected a response. Not from Alvira. They didn’t talk much anymore–– not that they were any sort of ‘friends’ before the Great Falling Out, as it had been dubbed. She smirks back as she flips another page, glancing at it for a moment before looking up to Alvira. 

              “Someone’s got to tell them they’re wasting their time. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but McQueen is inimitable. Still, how long are we going to be bombarded by barely tolerable trends?”

[avantikaa-blog1]

goddesserpentine:

For a second, Riya is tempted to reply. After all, scathing remarks about the fashion industry is something she and Alvira love indulging in. But she cannot trust her tongue not to turn the conversation into a bitchfest. That is something she will do with Laila, but not Avantika. Not anymore. 

So with a silent sigh, Riya continues walking, ignoring the slight shiver that always accompanies her whenever she is in the older woman’s presence. 

              TO THE UNTRAINED eye, nothing has changed. To someone who has experienced the pleasure of Avantika’s company for a little more than a moment, nothing has changed. To someone like Riya? The difference is probably obvious, and Avantika hates that the younger woman is still able to affect her like this. With a slightly tense jaw, she follows the brunette with her eyes. Almost sad that there was nothing in response, a smirk appears on her painted lips.

                She watches Riya, her head tilting to follow her, a challenge in her eyes, the ever present challenge hidden in every glance coming to the forefront. It was a game they played, before– when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other long enough to find a secluded spot somewhere. Now, though, it is meant to provoke– if only to have Riya’s attention on her a little longer. Pathetic, she knows, but if there was anything she could have done about it, she would have. Avantika is not someone who likes being weak. 

[avantikaa-blog1]

               LAZY FINGERS FLIP through the pages of yet another boring fashion magazine. There is a small sound of interest, as dark eyes skim over the article. Interest that was quick to form is even quicker to wither away. A small sigh, and Avantika glances up, almost uninterested. 

               “When was the last time the fashion industry came up with something that wasn’t drowning in mediocrity?”

[ashandabstraction]

i asked her how do you kill a king she laughed  who still believes in kings?

and it sounded like his final gasp  | kmp

((for @nepenthenet‘s prompt “how to kill a king”))

[thebluebloodsrp]

AVANTIKA AHUJA | 28 | SOCIALITE, HEIR TO HOUSE OF AHUJA

Some women pick men to marry— and others pick them to pieces. ― Mae West

“She told me don’t worry about it”

Manipulation and Avantika Ahuja go hand in hand. She craves power, and has been competing for it with her half-siblings for years. Since their mother has long been the Ahuja patriarch’s partner, she worries that ultimately the position of Boss will go to either one of them instead of the eldest, as it has done for several generations. Moreover, her somewhat reckless behaviour has ruffled a number of feathers. But, much like her father, Avantika enjoys keeping people on their toes and doesn’t abide by boundaries. In that way the associates have noticed that Avantika is more like Vikram than either of her other siblings. She’s sharper, has more business acumen, (mostly) knows who to associate with and when to drop them. But not even she can predict the moods of the patriarch of the Ahuja family. Case in point, he was not impressed in the slightest that he had to cover up her mistakes where Aditya Mehra was concerned. Wrong place, wrong time— wrong person. It’s safe to say that the misstep has caused a little dent in the banking family image they use to cover up their illicit activities in the press’ eyes. 

“We both know we can’t go without it”

+ proud, organised, fierce

- cold, possessive, mysterious

“She told me you’ll never be alone”

Laila: As their family businesses are somewhat entwined, it is important that they remain cordial— for it is better to have a united front. Some term the Avantika and Laila combination as something lethal for when the reigns get passed down to them but that’s just it; business.

Harsh Mehra: Prior to his passing, Harsh’s half brother was seeing Avantika. Harsh believes she is responsible for Aditya’s demise, not that it was ever proven. She thinks Harsh is way in over his head; both with the business he’s inherited and his attempts to reverse the verdict.

Riya Malhotra: Avantika was screwed over by Riya after their liaison ended and the two haven’t spoken since. It was a shame that things ended this way, considering how much spark they had, despite being shrouded in secrecy. Regardless, Avantika would never truly harm Riya. 

Avantika Ahuja is portrayed by Deepika Padukone and is currently open for auditions