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[dira-gowda]

[Chandira Gowda], 37, has called Coronado home for [all their life]. As [the owner of Primal], their world is steeped in [sweat soaked bets], [spine-sharpened daggers], and [steep stretches of the truth]. Often found [drumming up new talent], they move through life with [Emergence by Sleep Token] in their ear. 

Full bio to come.

Abbreviated timeline:

Born April 13th.

At twelve, she learns about the fights that take place under the old warehouse at the back of her father’s property in The Mills.

At fifteen, she starts taking down the bets on the fights happening down in the pit.

At sixteen, she tells her parents her ideas for making the fight club more profitable, asks about the prospects of going legit. Her questions get her hurt. They always get her hurt. She doesn’t stop asking.

At eighteen, she’s told that her parents have found her a boy to marry, that he’s who they want running both the fight club and the factory. She convinces them to allow both of them to obtain degrees first. 

At twenty, she changes her major for the second time in the hopes of stalling the arranged marriage. Her parents figure out her plans and hurt her for the last time. She begins her plans for revenge.

At twenty-four, she can’t stall anymore and graduates with a business degree and a hand in the pockets of all of her father’s investors. 

At twenty-five, instead of a wedding, she stages a coup. With the money on her side, and years of blackmail in her pocket, she forces her parents to sign over Gowda Inc to her. 

At twenty-seven, she hosts a joint funeral for her parents who died in a reported car crash. There’s not a single photo of her crying.

Now at thirty-seven, she’s taken Primal from being just a club the desperate whisper about, to being an almost-legitimate sporting facility. The gambling and the nightly fights aren’t exactly legal, but the building has a sign and it’s own address and a perfectly legitimate liquor license. And she offers reasonable rates for enhanced privacy and security. 

Quick Facts:

Employment: Officially speaking, she’s the head of Gowda Inc. A small but profitable company known for their quality leather goods. For the last decade, however, her love and attention has mostly gone to the upbringing of her bar and fight club, Primal.

District Loyalties: The only true loyalty she has is to herself.

Allegiances: Whoever is willing to pay more.

Possible Connections:

Employees-- Security guards, personal or for Primal. Bar tenders. Admin team/advisors. Bookies. On-site doctor. Managers for all sides of the businesses. Drivers. There’s a lot of positions available! Benefits do not include dental or vision insurance.

Fighters-- Can’t be a fight club without people willing to get punched! 

Ex-”fiancé”-- She knows she upended the life his parents planned out for him too, when she called off the forced engagement and took over her family’s company. Though she never really had a conversation with him about it, she can only hope he agree with her decision.

[tjdelbosque]

He doesn't answer her immediately. But the smile that spans his mouth is slow, and transparently triumphant. It says I knew you'd bite.

"Next time, the options should be truth or truth." Teodósio tells her with a sigh, even though they both know they wouldn't play a game like that. They're so well versed in the art of lying that he isn't sure they'd even remember a truth without embellishment.

"Invite my cousin Gabriel to your fight club." He pauses to let her take in the pitch, but cuts in again when Dira opens her mouth to speak. "Not as a competitor," – He isn't a complete monster – "As a spectator." He casts a glance through the glass separating them from the ballroom, as if searching for the man in question.

"The Premier's death was hard on him... Some hair of the dog might fix that."

[dira-gowda]

For several moments, Dira wants nothing more than to hit him. In fact the urge gets stronger the longer he silently boasts over getting his way. She settles for rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink, not quite patiently. But then he speaks; finally informs her of the challenge she’s already blindly accepted. And at first, she’s confused. Gabriel has, to the best of her recollection, always been the most gentle of the Del Bosque boys. Even if he did accept her invitation to the next tournament, she had to doubt he’d even be left alive after one round. She goes to voice her concerns when Teodósio, always a move ahead, stops her and addresses them unvoiced. It’s as agitating as it is, in this specific instance, endearing. 

Something in the way she looks at him,  as she studies his freckled face, softens. One moment passes, then two, before her reply floats between them. “Poor thing.” Her pity comes out in a murmur, as she too turns her attention to the golden revelry. “He wouldn’t be the first to need some sort of macabre exposure therapy to deal with that kind of horror.” It’s how she’s gotten a few of her best fighters over the years– though she leaves that tidbit unsaid.

“It’s kind of you to think of him like this.” It’s almost a question, as she glances at Teodósio once again. In truth, she’d have done his ask without the challenge of a game– but that too, is left unsaid. Lest he come up with something actually torturous instead. “But is your cousin to know of your kindness?”

[dira-gowda]

Coronado Eterna, part 2 @thcusandcuts

"Of course." Dira mutters under her breath, the sound hot with anger. "Those fucking bastards." Her fork jabs too hard into the soft flesh of the fish she no longer tastes. The sound sharp and unpleasant.

[taileaten]

"no, nothing like that." katashi had watched with some level of interest from the shadows, but had yet to put his stake in the ring. there was a certain... recognizability to him that he had to avoid. "just curious about the business. i hear you pull quite the crowd. are you hoping to snag a few new challengers while you're here?"

[dira-gowda]

She allows a soft, mildly disappointed 'Oh' to escape her lips at his rejection. But whatever disappointment is left on her face vanishes quickly. "Well, to tell you the truth," Dira leans in just slightly, her voicing dropping to just below the ballroom's din. "I believe you to be one of maybe a handful-- and that's a generous hand, mind you-- of people here that could actually be challengers in our ring." It's an opinion almost solely based on looks, but one that she believes is true none the less. "I suppose you could say that I'm advertising. While it's true that I pull a decent sized crowd most nights, almost no one here has ever has had the pleasure."

A beat, then, "Do you frequent often? I feel like I'd remember you."

[kassajin-d]

The first replies that came to mind weren't any good, so he put on a smile. Best behavior today. "Yes, that'd be me." He takes a small sip from his drink, ignoring the urge to down it and beeline away from this circus. "I apologize, I'm not sure who you are."

[dira-gowda]

"Ah, excellent!" She beams, pleased to have not been led astray. "My name is Chandira Gowda-- though please, call me Dira. All my friends do." She pauses to accept a sparkling glass off of a tray as someone brings it by, taking a sip before continuing.

"I was actually going to give your offices a call tomorrow morning, how fortunate for me to run into you here. I find myself in need of upgrading the security for one of my buildings, and your consulting work comes highly recommended." Dira glances behind her at an open balcony. "I know this is hardly the place for it.. but I wonder if you might have a few moments to talk shop?"

[misflung]

“Of course not,” he says smoothly. “Just make it out to Chancellor Kirk Masten. And if you want it done ASAP, get yourself patched through to Dimitri Saint-Romain at 112 Matsugi. He’s already used to my little gaffes.” …to say the least. “Gowda, right? Chandira Gowda?”

[dira-gowda]

Dimitri Saint-Romain, 112 Matsugi. The information gets filed away for another night.

"Ahh, that's right. That would make you Mr. River Masten, wouldn't it?" It's phrased as a question, though it's obvious that it's a rhetorical one. "Please, call me Dira." She corrects, with no shortage of warmth.

"Are you redirecting me to others because you don't wish to take responsibility for your actions or because you lack your own coin that doesn't come with strings?"

[tjdelbosque]

Saintly.

It's been a long time since he's heard the word, even longer since it's been tacked onto him. Although it's laughable now, there was a time he could've played the part well. A silent, solemn cherub, with an unsettling gaze that was often mistaken for precocity.

"Did you come here tonight expecting anything but?"

He wonders about Dira's definition of boring. He knows her definition of fun, knows he could give it to her right now, if he were so inclined. It isn't without its temptation... To grab her by the hand, take her to the middle of the ballroom amidst a sea of onlookers, a Del Bosque dancing with a Usurper, who has as much infamy attached to her name as she has fascination. The shock on some faces... The disgust on others.

"Let's play a game, Chandira. Truth or dare?"

[dira-gowda]

Now why'd he go and do that? Start a game that will no doubt ruin any hope she has on networking this evening. It's not a question that needs to be asked aloud-- she knows the answer: She called him boring and now must pay the price. Dira hums, an amused sound, and looks out towards the dance floor as she weighs her options.

She could choose not to play, of course. They're in their thirties now, past all that silliness. Liable for their actions. Plus, she's supposed to be making new friends here; not causing trouble with old ones. Dira could walk away from this conversation right now and get on with her evening. She almost does.

But then there's that voice in the back of her head, the one that feeds on the slowly pooling thrill that comes with catching people like them off guard. Them being the glittering, vintage clad no one's with big last names swirling and twirling around like they've earned a reprise from the hustle and grind they pay other people to do.

So then that leaves the question: Truth, where she'll likely be given the same label she'd just threatened him with, and be left both vulnerable and unsatisfied. Or dare, which would both satisfy that destructive other her and risk damaging whatever credit and good graces she still has with these well-dressed nobody's.

Is it even a question?

With a smirk and amused, if dangerous, glint in her eye, she turns back to her old friend. "Dare." She declares with a quiet confidence. "But hear me Teo: if you get me kicked out or blacklisted, I will make you regret it."

[dira-gowda]

Coronado Eterna; part 1 @kassajin-d

"Forgive me," She starts almost diplomatically, sidestepping someone in a garish shade of yellow to position herself in front of the tall man. "You're Kassajin Du Bois, yes?"

[tjdelbosque]

He's more keen to learn about Percy, but alas, Chandira's interest has already turned to his family's own conquests. He's bored at first, mind traveling idly over the subjects in question; Elena and her survivalist cockroach of a husband, Gabriel's love affair with a mirror, Andrea who's married to his neuroticism, and darling Mona, whose knight in shining PR armor is undoubtedly wasting no time working the crowd as they speak.

"Maybe we're just unlucky in love." He isn't foolish enough to let slip any measure of real Del Bosque truth, even if he does enjoy Chandira, but regarding himself he adds;

"What are you implying about my family values, Miss Gowda?... Don't you know, I'm the picture of complacency." His smile this time is serene, almost cherubic.

[dira-gowda]

The sudden shift from calling her date for the evening names to this almost believable holistic vision has Dira wrinkling her nose. "Don't be saintly," She half-groans, her tone dipping into a bland octave. "it's boring." Disappointing.

"And that, Mr. del Bosque, is a far greater tragedy than the supposed lack of a love life." For Dira, it's sage advice. To be seen as a bore is to be seen as dull, and being dull when the world has so much color to collect, is nothing short of a waste. Waste of time, of space, sometimes even air.

Thankfully, that's not the description she associates with the man before her. "Besides, all I was implying was that you were no stranger to fun. But if I'm wrong..." There's a playful edge to her words now, even as she bows her head lightly. "Please accept my deepest apologies for being so out of touch."

[taileaten]

EVENT STARTER (PART 1) for @dira-gowda !!

"you're the one that sets up the fights, aren't you?" it was more statement than question. "i was hoping we could talk about that."

[dira-gowda]

"I am indeed." Delight at being known-- at being recognized-- floods her system like the champagne she's been sipping, light and bubbling. "Are you looking for a challenge? Or a specific challenger?" Either could be arranged, for the right price.

[misflung]

“Oh—shit! Sorry about that,” River clicks his tongue and quickly retracts his foot, “I didn’t do any damage to your dress, did I?” (@dira-gowda)

[dira-gowda]

She's quick to pull the short train of red fabric around her to give it as proper of an inspection as she can, given the dim mood lighting. While there's maybe a hint of scuffing, only a keen eye looking for faults would discern it from a shadow. "Luckily, it's nothing a round of dry cleaning won't fix."

Her eyes travel up from the offending shoe, over the clearly customized suit, to settle onto his rather handsome-- and familiar-- face. She doesn't bother with an attempt to stop the split smile. "I assume you won't make covering the bill a hassle?"

[tjdelbosque]

His lip curls disdainfully, as if the name alone is enough to damn the stranger.

"Poor sod. Is it his hopes you're trying to dash tonight, or round two with the parents?"

But when Chandira remarks on the fact that he's come alone, Teodósio tilts his head to mimic hers and throws her a sideway smile. "And you've the decency to act surprised."

[dira-gowda]

Dira lets the quip about her parents go, though the thought of their souls still caring about the image their daughter is 'ruining' whilst their flesh rots does amuse her. Little wins, she supposes.

"I am surprised, Teo." Her voice low, honest. "You can't convince me your other siblings don't have go-to paramours for things like this. Elena didn't even bring her husband. To a family sponsored event." She finishes her drink and lightly places on a try as a waiter passed.

"I'm guessing that means your parents encouraged you to attend alone." Her lips spread into a sharp, mischievous smile. "Imagine how irritated they would have been had you not been so.. complacent."

[tjdelbosque]

LOCATION — Isolde in Villa Solana DATE — July 18, Pt. I STARTER — Closed for @dira-gowda

" — Who's the bozo you came in with?"

[dira-gowda]

"Percival Hemingcliffe." Dira replies instantly over the rim of her nearly empty glass. The stuffy man may own a major shipping company but-- "'Bozo' is an apt summary of Percy."

She takes in the teal and the florals with an appreciative hum. "You came alone." It's not a question, but her head still tilts with curiosity.

[dira-gowda]

Chandira Gowda || Well-Connected

She's attending on the arm of a wealthy man that she'll abandon ten minutes past the door. His use depleted, their debt squared. Her dress, plucked straight from the runway debut of Layla Auclair's latest collection, an advance on his new tab. Never one to miss an opportunity to network for Gowda Inc.'s newest venture, Dira's here for more than to simply experience a mere sliver of the life that's awaiting her. She's here to pitch her services to this layer of the island with deep pockets and brand her name on their minds.