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Post by Virianus Devinian on Mar 30, 2014 18:23:37 GMT -5
Virianus Devinian stood silently at the Tower’s west-most window, watching as the sun slowly fell beneath the jagged ridgeline of the Jiv’Undus Mountains. The Tower, its spire rising far above the perpetual steam-cloud that wreathed the city below, was one of the few places within Vascxious Sigma from which a sunrise or sunset could be reserved, and the Magistrate never missed a quiet opportunity to marvel at the beauty of that privilege. Below, those in the city had adapted to life with only indirect sunlight, the remainder of their light given by perpetually-lit streetlamps that cut through the have to create a semblance of daytime all 24 hours of each solar cycle: it had been said that living under a perpetual cloud could take its toll, however, and Alpha could only surmise that was the very reason sky rise cafes, restaurants, and overlooks had become so popular over the years: popular enough that Virianus had made quite a few of the tallest buildings grant public access to their windowed overlooks as a tourist attraction even those local to the city could enjoy. The decision had been instantly popular, and was used as a point of rally for the approval of permits for the construction of taller buildings, a fact that was undoubtedly pleasing to the resident Council corporate CEO. Though it might not have always seemed to lie as his direct focus, Alpha made a point of consistently working to improve the lives of those he governed. A small smile played across his lips at the irony of the situation: it was amazing how little public corruption there could be when said corruption was fully institutionalized.
The sun finally dipped its head fully behind the mountains, causing Virianus to turn from his expansive window view to the remainder of his office, just a short few steps from the giant council chamber itself. Virianus worked solely from this chamber, with its large, expansive open spaces, quiet corner seating area to the left, and large obsidian-topped desk set proximal to the midline of the seamless glass pane that comprised the largest, curved wall of the office. To the right was the doorway that led into Virianus’ own living chambers, a series of rooms twice as large as his office, though unbordered by windows. His public works, though shrouded in the darkness of secrecy, were open to the light of day: his personal endeavors within his living space never would be. That was exactly the way he liked it.
Stepping to the side of his desk, Alpha looked to his reflection in the smooth stone, darkened and twisted by the shadowy features of the obsidian. His hand naturally rested to the left of his mask, which he had placed face-up on the desk’s cool surface earlier. It’s perpetual jester’s smile beamed up at him hauntingly from its resting place, the roving red, black and grey of its design seeming to shift and bend in living oscillations as the light from the windows began to fade and the house lights slowly rose in intensity. Alpha’s true face was never seen by others, though the distinguished features of his human visage was sometimes viewed by those he trusted. When alone, it was that face that was visible to the silent walls of his office: the mask had become, over time, reserved for business with others rather than business alone, despite the advantages the artifact offered him. As his fingers traced the false face’s lines, he felt the arrival of another expected presence, a tug at his psyche that announced that he was no longer alone in the room.
Turning toward the corner, Alpha’s silver eyes found a spot of unusual darkness to fixate on. “I assume you work is done then?”
Zenethrakarna formed from the darkness, her tall, lithe female figure stepping clear into the center of the room with all the confidence of a conquering overlord. It would have taken a keen mind to observe how her stride never ended with her feet quiet striking the ground, the flickering, inconsistent nature of her movements that made it seem as though her image jumped between close points in space. To other beings, the Nightmare appeared as though a creature from some medieval concept of hell: Alpha, however, paid no mind to the oddities of her appearance and existence. He had seen Zenetrakarna’s true face, and stared back unafraid: it was difficult to fear that which you had enslaved.
The blank, lifeless black eyes of the Nightmare fixated on Virianus as she came to stand before him, her long, spindly arms curving across the center of her body into a resting position no true human creature could have managed without bone fracture. She opened her mouth to spill out the voice of fear: Alpha paid no mind to its tone now, only its content.
“Of course. I can’t say any of them were happy to see me . . . Especially the little bitch. She’ll be here shortly, by the way.” Zenethrakarna’s smile was pure delight: Alpha knew she relished torturing Søren more than most, for it was easy to get a rise out of the former Guardian.
“And you delivered my other message to Ms. Dirieté?” Alpha knew the answer, but the condescending tone he struck with the creature before him made her chains itch.
The Nightmare’s grin was monstrous. “Oh, yes. I was sure to impress on her the gravity of her situation, and that her lack of progress would not be tolerated. I may have even eluded to a few of the punishments in store, should she fail . . .”
Zenethrakarna took pleasure in eliciting fear from those she encountered: she fed on it, and her delight in causing it was always evident. Alpha knew she had likely taken Aidan on a short hallucinatory tour of creative tortures to strike the point home. Good: that had been Virianus’ intention when he had sent the Nightmare. The fact that Aidan’s technology had been holding up Drænnik’s progress for over a month was quickly becoming unacceptable. The Magistrate was aware that her duties with Ouroboros were expanding as rapidly as Aeorex’s aspirations, but Alpha did not intend to allow that excuse any longer.
Alpha turned away from Zenethrakarna dismissively. “Well done. I will have need of you again soon, once the Council meeting has ended. Monitor Ms. Dirieté while we are in session, I shall want to know her motions when I am finished.”
With a wave of his hand, Alpha dismissed the nightmare, who could nearly not contain her disgust as she faded from view, the solid darkness swirling around her swallowing and fading to nothingness. The Magistrate’s fingers slid across the contours of his ask as he picked it up and slowly brought it to his face, resting it on his features with a slow breath of bonding. Many had noticed how the mask seemed unusually expressive for a static object, though none had deemed it appropriate to comment such to the magistrate himself – the truth was far more complex, but in a way the mask was bonded to the features resting below it, and it required no straps nor connecting implements to stay firmly affixed, hiding Virianus’ human features from view beneath its smile.
Alpha was aware of who approached. It was time again to deal with business, and he knew the Council members would be arriving shortly, hot on the heels of Zenethrakarna’s propagated summons. Each one, save perhaps the un-phase-able Ishmael, would likely draw the same conclusion from his choice to send the Nightmare to summon them: they would believe it to be a show of force designed to keep them in line, to warn them not to break the status quo in their dealings of upcoming Council business. Essarhaddon’s removal had caused a stir among them, for it presented each a unique opportunity to consolidate power: the use of Zenethrakarna would be seen as a threat against doing so. Truthfully, the opposite was the case.
Alpha was well aware of how his actions would be perceived, and the reaction from each member would be defiance. They had sat complacent too long: it was time for a change, for more to be done, for shakeups in leadership to occur, and for those things to take place, they all needed to be on edge. Alpha smiled in echo of his mask’s expression as he stepped back to the window, looking out at the lights of the city below. It was time to begin the next phase of his designs, and all those incapable of assisting him would be cut from their comfortable thrones . . .
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Post by Søren Kiirkegré on Mar 30, 2014 20:15:51 GMT -5
Søren hardly waited for the doors of the lift to begin opening before she moved to step off of it, turning her slight body sideways to slip through the rapidly-developing crack between the doors and into the Council chambers. The woman moved across the wide expanse of the circular chamber rapidly, stepping through the center of the audience floor and not bothering to look out the overlarge windows that bordered the alabaster-carved room on two sides. The Counselor was clearly angry: having Zenethrakarna decide to just ‘pop in’ with a message from Alpha was not welcome in the best of circumstances, but the way the nightmare had decided to appear and belittle her in front of five of her top Peacekeeper Lieutenants made the fire within Søren’s core burn all the brighter. Alpha was trying to make a point, she knew, and she was beginning to become tired of being at the wrong end of the rest of the Council’s condescension.
The former Guardian gritted her teeth as she stepped up to the Magistrate’s office door, not pausing before knocking twice lightly and opening the door. Alpha, per his usual “I’m expecting visitors” stance, was maneuvered with his back to the door, looking out the window. The petite woman knew he would begin speaking to her without turning around, and would make the slow turn to face her at a point in the conversation he wished to emphasize. You always overestimate your ‘presence’, Alpha. While the Magistrate might have been a thing of fear for some of the Council, Søren had stood toe-to-toe with far more terrifying beings in the long and varied years. These sorts of underhanded fear tactics didn’t make the woman afraid: they made her angry.
Still, the woman semi-respectfully set her features and lowered her tone from the biting edge that would naturally come out, addressing Alpha with the respect he demanded, if not truly deserved. “You called for me, Virianus?” Søren refused to address Alpha by his titles, as many of the other Council members liked to: one of her small little acts of defiance that had managed to help land her in everyone’s proverbial doghouse. The woman didn’t care: she did her job.
Militarily the woman crossed her arms behind her waist, one wrist reflexively grabbing the other in an at-ease stance she had learned from the Lieutenants in her command. “Zenethrakarna was sparing with her details, but she offhandedly implied that it was fairly urgent?” Of course, both beings knew Zenethrakarna did nothing ‘offhand’; Søren just refused to admit how the interaction had truly gone. Alpha wouldn’t press, of that she was sure.
Still, Søren was aware that something was up if Alpha had decided to send his Watchdog in order to deliver a message better sent by a page. She suspected it had to do with the upcoming meeting of the Council, slated to begin within the next hour, but she made a point not to speculate as to Alpha’s motives too heavily. That’s what the rest of them did, and it sent them scrambling this way and that trying to head off the inevitable. The former Guardian took a different tact: she always decided to wait and let the situation reveal itself, then she would react accordingly. This time was no different: the woman waited patiently for her illustrious Magistrate to reveal his intentions, all the while growling within at his level of so-called ‘superiority’. One of these days, she would wipe the smirk off of his masked face permanently: it was only a matter of time . . .
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Post by Virianus Devinian on Mar 30, 2014 20:31:49 GMT -5
Virianus Devinian did indeed follow the pattern of predictability ascribed to him by the Counselor who had just entered his office, at least in part. He did not immediately turn, waiting for the woman to finish speaking to begin speaking himself, turning to face her as he did so.
“Søren. Welcome. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” The woman had not been given much choice, of course, but Alpha never diminished the appearance of choice when it came to his Council members: it was a delicate framework of threat, coercion, reward, and expectation that trapped each of them within the web of his control, and each fiber had to be strung in delicate balance to all others in order for the Magisterium’s structure to continue to function.
The masked Magistrate swept across the room to stand before Søren, his tall frame and wide shoulders towering over the petite woman. His presence, too, was towering, but the former Guardian would never consider her own non-physical persona to amount to any less: in that regard, Alpha gave her a wide enough berth in space that he did not loom over her, at least not yet. Every action was calculated.
“I have a favor to ask of you.” Thus was the Magistrate’s preface for command. “I believe there to be something significant that lay hidden within the city’s steam tunnels. I would like you to dispatch several squadrons of your Peacekeepers that are not on necessary duty to efficiently, but very thoroughly search the tunnels. Can you spare the resources?” Alpha knew she could: the basic formation of Peacekeeper duties could be run with a skeleton crew: Vascxious Sigma’s crime rate was nearly impossibly low.
“Though I cannot say exactly what it is you will be looking for, I have it on good authority that it will be magically concealed. Therefore, I would like you to undertake this endeavor with the full cooperation of Aeorex’s Ouroboros Corporation: they will be able to supply you with the necessary technology to detect what it is we are searching for.”
Virianus waited silently for that piece of information to sink in: Søren’s nature was antithetical to direct collaboration, especially with regards to another Council member.
“Are there any questions that you have?”
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Post by Tahliya Carystian on Mar 30, 2014 20:47:26 GMT -5
Dorya rolled her shoulders back and forth as she waited for the lift to reach the top, stretching out the muscle fibers that had been stressed in her latest training session beneath the Tower’s base. Realistically, the woman was aware enough of the specifics of her nature to know that no such stretching was necessary: her body chemistry was arguably perfect, and the fibers that made up her muscle structure always functioned at peak efficiency: the stretching motions were one of many practiced humanizing habits, each one designed to evoke a certain image of her ‘human’ character in those she encountered. Considering how often the Operative was called to ‘blend in’ for her missions, the movements had become practiced second nature. Psychologically, she found that she sometimes depended on the motions for a grounding effect, and she often used them on missions in order to ‘get in character.’ Today’s motion was no different: every time the Operative faced Alpha, she had to prepare herself, so as not to slip up.
As the lift doors opened, Dorya carefully stepped past the threshold and into the Council chamber, her boots creating a heavy, pleasing sound as she carefully picked her way across the alabaster stone floor towards the other end, where Alpha’s door lay. Though it was normally closed tight, even when Alpha himself was not there, oddly the door itself was wide open, and the Operative had no trouble hearing speaking within. Not to miss her appointed time of summons, the fact that Alpha already seemingly had a meeting (with none other than Søren, Dorya quickly realized) did not stop the woman from stepping past the door’s threshold and coming to a silent stance of attention, her gloved hands clasped at the front of her blue cavalry coat as she watched the interaction before her.
Dorya kept her face neutral, but she had no issue infringing on Søren’s space and making what seemed as though it could be an uncomfortable interaction even more uncomfortable. He supposed-superior officer never conducted herself well in political matters, a fact that resounded no small part of ire within Dorya’s chest. If noticed, the Operative would only give a cursory glance and a curt nod to Søren: the woman’s eyes fixated directly on Alpha, and she would await his acknowledgement before speaking. This was common dance they de, she and he, and her level of respect for the man was well displayed in the manner of her approach . . . though her respect for Søren was another matter entirely.
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Post by Søren Kiirkegré on Mar 30, 2014 21:12:33 GMT -5
Søren did her best to ignore Alpha’s phrasing: the way the man put together his commands, so suggestive and light, had always bothered her on a deep level. Masking an order in polite phrasing only diminished the strength of the order itself, and by association, the person giving it. The former Guardian would have much rather the Magistrate deal with her directly and not play games, but she also understood that direct dealings were not done in Vascxious Sigma Yet another reason that the woman didn’t quite fit: she didn’t like playing games.
She carefully thought over what it was Alpha was implying: there was something, either newly arrived or far older than living memory, that he believed was in the tunnels. And, if it was magically concealed, that means someone, or something else didn’t want it found, which meant they could be dealing with one or more powerful beings. That consideration was all well and good when it came to Alpha himself, or even his Council members, were they to be investigating personally, but the majority of the Peacekeepers under her command were barely skilled above the average citizen when it came to combat, including the supernatural kind. Søren clenched her teeth.
“If you are expecting trouble, do you think my Peacekeepers are the best choice? Most of my new recruits have no supernatural inclination in the slightest, and wouldn’t know how to deal with something truly magickal if they encounter it. If you would let me recruit outside of the city population, I would have a greater ability to fill out the Spec Ops element of my forces in order to be better prepared.” Søren was thinking specifically of the loss of one of her best Spec Ops commanders, Savryn Michaels, who had run off in search of her long-lost family or some such nonsense. Her loss had crippled that unit, and Søren had been unable to recruit anyone spectacular to replace Savryn. Sometimes, the woman wondered if Alpha’s restrictions were deliberately placed to weaken the Peacekeeper’s ranks, considering that Ouroboros’ in-house security forces had no such inability to find extraordinary candidates, or so it would seem by the way it was growing.
The second problem was that she would be working with Aeorex, a man she absolutely despised. His rise to sit on the Council had ruffled more than a few feathers, but none more than Søren’s. The man’s attitude was obnoxious, and though their organizations did collaborate on a base level, she could have one without ever seeing the man at all. All that is not to mention the way that Ouroboros had been allowed to grow, snapping up resources almost haphazardly in their attempt to swallow the remainder of Vascxious Sigma’s home-grown businesses. Søren understood Aeorex’s purpose, and why Alpha used him the way he did; that didn’t mean she agreed with the perks Aeorex seemed to be receiving in exchange for fulfilling a job even a trained ape could accomplish with more skill. The former Guardian was well aware just how difficult it would be for Aeorex to accomplish even the simplest of business tasks without the aid of his lovely COO and babysitter, Aidan.
The former Guardian heard the boot-steps of Dorya coming through the door, and she couldn’t keep herself from scowling. With the false creature here to observe, this would make the second time in as many hours she had been in some way belittled before a subordinate. The fire within her chest raged all the hotter, and she refused to regard Dorya with a single care. The creature had no place here: Alpha was tormenting her, and Søren was tiring of it.
Søren understood she was being given no choice, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to push back logistically. “Has Aeorex been made aware of this? I know Ouroboros has been making rapid technological advancements, but they are children when it comes to the understanding of magic. What help will they be?”
The woman stepped forward forcefully, closing the distance between them that Alpha ad been so careful to place there, robbing him of the ability to do so. “This isn’t a smart use of resources, Alpha. Let me recruit some outside help so that we don’t deplete our forces. Or, if you are dead set on using Ouroboros and their technology, why use my men at all?”
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Post by Virianus Devinian on Mar 30, 2014 21:34:02 GMT -5
Virianus Devinian regarded the woman before him carefully as she began voicing her concerns with his command. Pushback had not been unexpected, and Alpha was more than prepared to answer her questions, if not necessarily put her fears to rest. This would be an uncomfortable exercise for her, and the Magistrate had designed it as such for a purpose. Søren had numerous reasons for her lack of progress, but the majority of true causes lay on her sense of complacency. She hated the ‘favor’ she felt Aeorex received without realizing that his value was increasing with each new endeavor he undertook, while hers had stayed notoriously static for far too long. She was right in many of her estimations, and yet could not understand that her correct conclusions were drawn from the wrong sources.
“Søren, you understand as well as I the implications of bringing outside individuals into the Peacekeepers. The citizens will never accept it. Likewise, I refuse to consider our citizens lack of natural militarization as a flaw: more power within the ordinary citizenry inevitably leads to more strife, for as you know, those who possess power inevitably seek more. I understand that it will be a challenge, but I have asked this task of you for a reason: the level of manpower required to perform a thorough sweep is not within the realm of possibility for Ouroboros, for as you know, their militarized force is barely thirty men deep, while you command nearly six times that number. However, your concern of a magickal encounter is well received.”
Alpha paused in speaking as Dorya entered the room, and turned fully rom his conversation with Søren in order to address the Operative’s arrival. “Ah, Dorya, your punctuality is, as always, incredibly appreciated. I have a very important task for you, which I will address in a moment. Please, wait if you would.”
Søren’s step forward only caused Alpha’s tall frame to loom over the diminutive woman, and the Magistrate barely allowed her to finish speaking before quietly cutting in and addressing her again. “Aeorex will be made aware after the Council meeting has adjourned; as I have with you, I shall speak with him personally. I understand your objections and have made note of them Søren, and therefore I feel it only appropriate, in light of these considerations, that you be personally involved in this exercise. After all, though your men might be unprepared for what they may find, I am quite confident that you are not. Now, if you have no further objections, I must address Dorya in private for a moment.”
Alpha stepped away from Søren and motioned for the Operative at her side to come forward, moving back towards his desk in order to sit behind it. “I will speak to you in the Council chambers momentarily, Søren: do please close the door on your way out.”
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Post by Søren Kiirkegré on Mar 30, 2014 21:47:40 GMT -5
Søren locked herself down. She had to: she knew her reaction would be too much for Alpha to ignore, were it to be let out in the open.
There it is.
Virianus had set up the entire interaction to make her responsible for this fool’s errand of his, putting her in an incredibly compromising, not to mention demeaning, position. The woman had underestimated Alpha’s calculations: so, she would personally be searching the tunnels with her men, while Aeorex bore no such responsibility. Not only did it get her effectively out of the way for an indeterminate amount of time, there was a great possibility that she would, in fact be looking for nothing. Which, naturally, would amount to a resounding failure on her part should she not be able to find anything.
Søren wanted to scream. She wanted to attack the Magistrate, both for his dismissive condescension and for his elegant maneuvering. She knew, however, that she could do neither. While in other places, Søren could have had a chance against Alpha, in the Tower his name was well-suited: he was the prime power, one she could not openly challenge. This is how he would be rid of her, unless she acted quickly and struck forcefully. She would. She would. She just didn’t know how.
Søren buried her expression behind a blank scowl. Bowing her head, she sneered to the floor and turned away. “Of course, Magistrate. As you wish.”
The former Guardian seethed as she exited the room, closing the door behind her as requested before taking her seat in one of the throne-like chairs set around the central, circular floor of the Council chamber. Suddenly, the seat did not feel as comfortable as it once did: the woman was now all-to-aware of how precarious her position had become, and this close to the razor’s edge, she would not be able to relax a single micrometer until she had managed to cover her bases as effectively as possible. She needed a contingency, and she needed it quickly.
Sitting back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other, Søren fell into contemplation as she waited for the rest of the Council to arrive. The woman knew she would have to play her cards carefully if she is to survive. Luckily, if there was one thing Søren always succeeded in, it was survival.
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Post by Tahliya Carystian on Mar 30, 2014 22:09:36 GMT -5
Dorya had been wondering why she had been called to Alpha at the same time as Søren: now she began to suspect the reason.
This was an opportunity.
The Counselor had, effectively, just been put on notice by the Magistrate, and Dorya had been there to witness it, and she didn’t imagine that it was by accident. Virianus left nothing to chance, and so the Operative could only assume that the Magistrate was quietly clueing her in as to an opportunity for advancement . . . one that she would not miss.
As Dorya silently followed Alpha toward his desk, she was inwardly making quick calculations. If she were Søren and had realized that the writing was on the wall, she would immediately begin shoring up her defenses and creating a contingency scenario. Considering the elective layout of the current Council, with so many openings, she would be looking to put someone on the Council who would be loyal to her, and therefore not vote to remove her, should it come to that. A unanimous vote was necessary to be rid of a Council member, and though Virianus held a lot of sway over the individual members, if she could get someone who was in her pocket onto the council in one of the vacant seats, then she would at least be protected while she worked to improve her station. Dorya smiled in spite of herself. Perhaps I should have a talk with my wayward superior . . .
Turning her attention to the task at hand, however, Dorya stood carefully at attention in front of Alpha’s desk, waiting for her next command. Alpha usually only called her directly for important jobs, and the only other time she was in his presence were the times he decided to enjoy her company. Such time had become increasingly few and far between in recent times, at least since Floraelia had retaken some manner of permanent residence within the city walls. Dorya didn’t mind the lack of contact: she enjoyed the Magistrate’s personal attention well enough, but honestly enjoyed working on her own more. Still, with the gift she had just been handed by Alpha, she wondered when the next opportunity to repay his kindness would arise.
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Post by Virianus Devinian on Mar 30, 2014 22:27:10 GMT -5
Virianus waited patiently for Søren to exit the room, letting his fingers rest casually on the top surface of his desk until the door closed. He was well aware of the position he had put the former Guardian in, and he knew further that Dorya knew why she had been summoned at such a coincidental time. Neither fact would be mentioned, however: he had just given Dorya a definitive leg up, if she decided to take her sudden advantage and make it grow into real power. That would be her test, just as this new development for Søren would be hers. For now, he would only address the business at hand with the Operative, for he truly did have an important task for her to accomplish.
“Dorya, I appreciate that you have come. I have been aware that someone of certain importance has entered the city quite recently. This individual thinks she is hidden from me, but I was made aware of her entrance to the city by some of my eyes and ears, though I cannot directly track her movements. I would like you to locate this individual and, through coercion rather than violence, bring her to audience with me as soon as possible.”
With a sweeping gesture of his hand over the Desk’s surface, the dark obsidian displayed a smoky reflection of the face of a beautiful, dark-haired woman. “Her name is Keretheriel,” Alpha noted as the woman’s image began to fade. “I do not believe she will pose any threat to you: it is in her best interest while in the city not to cause a scene. However, she may be hard to convince: please impress on her the gravity of my need to speak with her, and also relay that, should she do as you ask and accompany you to the Tower, once we have spoken she will be guaranteed safe passage out of the city if she so desires.”
The masked visage of the Magistrate regarded Dorya directly. “I know not where she is now, but she was within the Basilica only a short time ago. If you make haste, you will catch up with her quickly. Do you have any questions?”
Virianus was quite confident that Dorya would be able to bring Kereth to audience with him quickly, even while the Operative deals with her new-found advantage. The sooner, as it turned out, the better. "take care with her: this situation must be handled delicately. Good luck."
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Post by Tahliya Carystian on Mar 30, 2014 22:44:58 GMT -5
Dorya listened to the Magistrate attentively as he spoke, taking care to lock both the woman’s name and image within her impenetrable memory. The assignment was remarkably simple in comparison to the usual jobs Alpha gave her personally, but she understood that its simplicity seemingly did not diminish its importance. Whoever the woman was, Alpha wanted to speak with her badly, and the woman herself was intent on staying hidden. Dorya had a particular knack or locating individuals, however, and she would be able to get started right away.
“Yes Alpha, I will be delicate in handling this matter. I will bring her here as soon as she is located.”
Knowing that was all, Dorya flashed the Magistrate a smile and turned crisply on her heel, stepping rapidly toward the door and into the Council chamber. She would get started right away, but first . . .
Søren sat contemplatively in her seat among the Council round, and the Operative made a point of stepping just behind the other woman’s chair and stopping suddenly. In a low tone, she spoke neutrally, her voice near to a whisper.
“Your position would be much safer if you had an ally on the council. Someone who has worked under you for some time, is liked enough to be accepted by other members, and someone who is thought to be capable by the Magistrate. That person would be both loyal and in your debt, and could help deal with those who do not wish you to continue in your position much longer.”
Dorya didn’t wait for a response: she couldn’t make Søren jump at the chance, but the Operative could plant the idea in the Counselor's head. Without a word more, Dorya circled around the Council chamber and stepped into the lift at its end, sparing a pointed glance in Søren’s direction just before line of sight was severed by the closing of the lift doors. As Dorya rode the mechanical contraption toward the base of the Tower, she could not help but chuckle to herself. Now, she needed to complete her assigned task, but if she had time, perhaps she would stop by O. Holdings once the Council meeting was over . . .
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Post by Floraelia Devinian on Mar 30, 2014 23:21:01 GMT -5
Floraelia Devinian stared up at the numbers lighting up in quick succession, marking each floor the lift ticked past before stopping at the Tower's ground level Lobby. Sure, there were plenty of ways the Councilwoman could have entered— but there was a certain grounding she needed in order to prepare herself for a meeting with the rest of the Council. It wasn't that she dreaded the prospect, of course, the truth was anything but. She thrived on these meetings and the way it pushed her Mithrian tendency toward obsessive critical thinking: the political maneuvering and negotiation that came with the territory made her feel alive if she was absolutely honest with herself. The Mithrian let out a long breath as the dull roar of machinery settled and the slow, muted grind of sliding of metal sounded, signaling the lift's availability.
Heavy, but fine, cloth rustled as the Diplomat carefully stepped into the confines of the transporting box, the corners of her mouth upturning as her presence literally brightened the metallic interior. A sidelong glance at her reflection in the mirror-like surface had her adjusting the long sleeves of her dress. It was an unusual choice for her, she was acutely aware. Floraelia had left her pristine, snowy whites at home today, choosing instead a burnished cream that turned her already-glowing complexion positively translucent and caused her eyes to burn a deeper emerald. With sleeves long enough to scrape the floor with every motion and a train that followed several feet behind her, though the Mithrian was no stranger to a lavish dress or three she had to admit she was more than mildly self-conscious. Perhaps it was the less-than-modest neckline and very fitted bodice, or simply the deviation from her customary color scheme, but it took more to settle herself than usual. Viers had already been banished from her thoughts. . . A slow exhale was forced out deliberately as Floraelia checked her reflection one more time. A slight furrow in her brow appeared as she adjusted the heavy sleeves one more time: she adored the feel of the thick, pitch-black fur that lined and trimmed both sleeves but hadn't gotten used to them just yet. The wide pelt of the same jet color marking the hem of her dress was far easier to manage: that could have been due to the sheer lace overlay that offered a hint of shimmer to the body of the garment. Whatever the case, the lift was rapidly approaching her floor. Floraelia lifted her chin until the thick mess of white hair, gathered away from her face, pressed comfortingly down her back, her features relaxing into an expression of regal neutrality— entirely appropriate for a Mithrian Leader. It was only the softness of her mouth that belied the ice in her eyes: she never really could keep all traces of her natural warmth from touching her expression.
The door slid open a second time and Second District's Elect glided into the dark expanse effortlessly— no hint at the struggle for composure in her carriage. Her jewel-toned stare fell on the Operative as she moved away from Søren and passed Floraelia on her way to the lift before it closed. The Elect of Sixth District had quite a remarkably dour expression even for someone who— even at her most relaxed— tended to wear a scowl. Floraelia made a point to dip her chin in Dorya's direction, acknowledging her before she left.
”Søren,” the Diplomat bowed her head until thick white fringe obscured her eyes. Floraelia didn't particularly like the Councilwoman, but wouldn't blatantly disrespect her— not right before a meeting Virianus had insinuated could be less-than-pleasant. . . If the other woman didn't engage her, she'd pass with no pause in her smooth stride. No one else had arrived, and Floraelia intended to make use of the time by reviewing the decisions she'd made the night before.
Those brilliantly-colored eyes swept the long expanse of the Council's chambers, mentally checking off each District represented by the dual four chair semicircles that flanked the chair of the Magistrate. One through Four on the Left, Five through Eight on the Right. She knew that minutes from now she'd be seated between Ishmaél and Aeorex, on the Magistrate's Right Hand, and the thought elicited the slightest smile. For now, she could only wait. . .
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Aeorex Khestralicht
Initiated
Posts: 19
Title: Council-Elect for Third District, CEO of Ouroboros
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Post by Aeorex Khestralicht on Apr 2, 2014 0:22:46 GMT -5
The cabin of Aeorex's personal airship was small in comparison to those that had been recently put into production. Whereas the latter could easily fit a dozen men in full gear--even with the new line of augmentation harnesses--the sleek, characteristically obsidian craft's interior was better suited to a party of four, plus the pilot in the forward cockpit. Across from him sat his closest companions, the two individuals with whom he shared more history than any other. Bear's large frame was further expanded by the full "riot" gear he currently donned, his unsettling grin just as likely spawned from the eternal desire to use it to full effect as it was from his amusement at Sparrow's smaller stature even further imposed by it. Sparrow, for his part, knew well enough to keep his show of cold melancholy as a detached disregard to deny Bear the pleasure of a bully that never quite grew up. The trio had been discussing matters at hand less related to those within the realm of Aeorex's COO for the past several minutes, allowing enough time to touch base on the necessary topics and incidents that required immediate attention. That a series of covert stings had been pulled off successfully was a boon to the CEO's mood, at least. A policy of periodically thinning the herd in otherwise secretive and questionably "illegal" affairs within the Trade City's underworld, after all, was a necessity to maintain both influence and control over unruly variables, with the added benefit of reminding those in check that all actions held consequence.
All the same, as Aeorex gazed out the small viewing port beside him to the lights and rising steam of the city as it passed below them, the company of the two only reminded him of last night's dreams. The icy touch of cool to his previously hot-blooded veins was, he supposed, productive in that while he addressed the interaction with the proper attention it deserved, it allowed him a calm perspective to better decide upon his approach to their impending arrival at the Tower. Resting his elbow on the armrest with his chin lightly propped by his thumb, one leg crossed over the other, he'd finally decided on what he speculated was his best approach. "Change of plans." That his tone was devoid of all the practiced charm he'd been groomed to adopt rather well by some standpoints wasn't unsettling to the pair opposite him, but instead, they simply listened as he further explained his point. Thus, as the propulsion units kicked up enough of the surrounding air to send the CEO's crimson hair and the material of finely tailored attire into a wavering flurry moments later, it wasn't with a worrying eye that the pair looked upon the man as he crossed the courtyard to approach the structure's nearest entrance, moving at a relaxed pace untouched by the chill of the furious wind around him. They knew well enough that, despite how seriously they realized the dangers of the game they played by Aeorex's extension these days, they were not the ones who worried for what otherwise served as their leader.
In moments, the sliding doors of the elevator parted, and the Wolf stepped onto the alabaster floor with the crisp knock of shoes no less polished than his overall appearance. Though he could never hope to match the elegant Ms. Floraelia's taste in fashion despite all of his potential resources, his modest approach to the matter of wardrobe was still otherwise impressive, as it damn-well should be. Black fabric whose fibers seemed almost metallic in that they shimmered faintly when light caught them at just the right angle, clung to a form in just-so-revealing a way to showcase the man's athletic physique. While neither particularly daunting in either height or stature, he was without a doubt in as prime a shape as any human specimen several years younger than his age could ever hope to be. Of course, he didn't need these to exude the veritable aura that wafted off of him in waves. Hands were tucked casually into his pants' pockets, and while the observant eye could tell that he was in a very intimate control of every single motion of his body no matter how miniscule, his mixture of easy pace and none too rigid posture could only be surpassed in accentuating his confidence by the telling, ever-present smirk played out on pierced lips more finely than any note of the most well-tuned instrument. Those that such a presence spited were saved by the softly muting effect his visor had in concealing his gaze, lest they be put off by the freedom of expression it allowed him to practice in mystery.
His glance in either direction as he entered the circle of Council seats prompted no pause, but only because his motions were unnervingly fluidic. First, that he favored the lovely Floraelia was an all-too-perfect description, for that in the moment his attention directed itself upon her the smallest, gentle warmth came over him, and he regretted that pressing matters necessitated his immediate attention be focused elsewhere. Tearing his attention from her with a smile all too perfect to be so horridly worded, he spared a look in Soren's direction, nodding to the woman with some rising and mysterious amusement. Moving beyond either, he shook his head and, when he did speak, it was evident though his back was to them that he was smiling. "So wonderful when the band gets together, these days." Passing the "head" seat of the Trade City's Magistrate was mundane save for that, instead of looking upon it, a hand lifted from his pocket to slowly run a finger along the length of its arm as he passed. Now entering said Magistrate's office, he finally came to a stop before Virianus, the recently freed hand now returning to the confines of his pocket in a silent, but telling indication of present focus. That he'd let his smirk fade to something of a whisper, alongside diminishing the efforts to maintain all the other effects he played in the air to enrich his presence, his hidden gaze rested solely on their great Leader. The muted level of both sound and show was a silent addressing of a seriousness that spoke its own volumes. Aeorex wasn't amused by Virianus imposing his chained beast on those under the CEO's care, no matter the message that the other needed to send. That he didn't speak served to functionality in that he knew the other man would interpret him well enough, and dictate whether the issue would be addressed prior to or after the meeting, but, it would be addressed. That the Wolf did more than most to be cohesive in the Magistrate's efforts and intentions as a whole gave him all the justification that he, at least, needed to stand firm in the face of this city's God with a quiet, paradoxically respectful defiance.
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Post by Søren Kiirkegré on Apr 3, 2014 16:50:02 GMT -5
Søren clasped one hand atop the other as she leaned back in her seat, her arms rising to press her mouth lightly against her interwoven digits in a pose of pure contemplation, keeping her features neutral as Dorya quietly whispered in her ear and departed. The former Guardian knew she was in a precarious position, but to have her subordinate use it as opportunity to angle for a chance at new power for herself? The action was bold, and while it internally made the woman wish to lash out at the doll and remove her speaking abilities, Søren did understand the validity of her point. She did need an ally: the court had too long been stacked with kings and queens who saw no benefit in her presence, and therefore would stand idly by and fall in line with Alpha’s decision should he decide it was time to be rid of the Guardian. However, while Dorya might have been right-on with regards to the strategy, the idea that Søren would advance the Operative’s name was nearly laughable, even given the weight Søren could dump on her given the potential debt owed. However, there were others who might fit that bill, others with eyes for power and lacking the means to be nominated whom she could reach out to.
Søren’s eyes narrowed as she watched the Magistrate’s ‘daughter’ wander into the room, all silks, furs, and haughty pretense. That woman managed to acquire the favor of nearly every other member of the Council, seemingly through naiveté and ignorance, but Søren knew better: Floraelia played the game just as well as the others, she just didn’t know what to do with it when she won something. She had enormous political capital, if she wanted to wield it, and yet never did a damn thing that was productive with it. She might have been saving it up for a rainy day, but Søren suspected that, unlike the others, Floraelia had little in the way of aspirations of power, at least in respect to the council. That might have been the reasons she had been able to amass such a strong bank of Council credit: she honestly didn’t seem to have other intentions. What everyone seemed to forget, however, is that, innocent as she seemed or playing at a false face, Floraelia was tied inexorably to Virianus: that meant his goals were hers, and that gave the Magistrate yet another method of control over the Council.
Søren couldn’t stand the little princess, but she wasn’t about to hand Virianus the shovel with which to dig her grave, so she responded as pleasantly as was allowable to her current demeanor when the woman addressed her.
“Floraelia.” Leaning slowly forward, the woman dropped her arms t the rests of her Council seat, a subtle smirk developing on her minute features.
“I honestly don’t know how you manage to keep your dresses so pristinely white when traveling through the city with all that dust and soot blowing through the streets when the wind picks up. Yet, as always, you manage to glow. It’s almost supernatural . . .”
The former Guardian leaned back carefully as Aeorex stepped off the lift, responding to his visual acknowledgment with the sort of half-sneering up-nod she might have given an operative several ranks her junior. Aeorex was a know-it-all and a nuisance, and Søren had despised him before he was suddenly playing a part in what could potentially be her undoing. She knew he did not have much care for her either, a fact that could potentially make her work much harder, but the Guardian was still too fresh with her shock at the situation to try and do anything about her relationship with the Ouroboros CEO: that would have to come when there wasn’t so much bile rising in her throat from the sight of him.
To Aeorex offside comment, Søren managed to craft her customary scowl into a smirk.
“One big happy family, as always.”
Søren kept her smirk to herself as the man passed through, returning to her contemplative position in her seat.
At least it will be, once I take your best ally and make them mine.
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Post by Virianus Devinian on Apr 3, 2014 17:11:09 GMT -5
Virianus Devinian watched Dorya depart with passing interest: he creature would either capitalize on the opportunity he had given her or not, but Søren would also not be nearly so easy a catch as Dorya undoubtedly imagined. The Operative was gifted, and her mental capacity had developed in such a way that she could think more like a tactical computer than a human being: however, it was that very quality that might be her undoing in this new endeavor. Dorya still struggled with the complexities of emotional interaction, and that made her assessments of those less analytical than herself occasionally be oversimplified. She was likely predicting that Søren would choose the logical course and make Dorya indebted to her in exchange for power. While that superficially might be the best choice, it failed to take Søren’s pride into account, which made it potentially a gross miscalculation.
Alpha turned to the window once again, looking over the city skyline as he heard the others begin to arrive, Floraelia was first, punctual as usual, and then Aeorex, who decided to bypass the council chambers entirely to come pay homage to the Magistrate himself. Alpha didn’t turn around immediately as the Ouroboros CEO came to rest on the other side of his desk, but soon enough the jester’s features would slowly swing 'round, focusing the Magistrate’s silver-eyed stare at his business protégé. Aeorex’s confidence had risen greatly in the past few years as his business empire, begun at Alpha’s behest, had grown large enough to be a force unto itself. However, that did not mean that the CEO wielded additional power within the Council chambers or this particular office, though Aeorex seemed to fancy himself above the rest. His confidence was endearing, insofar that it did not cross the line into insolence. Alpha was confident that Aeorex was well aware of that particular line's location.
Alpha stepped forward, moving around his desk to stand directly before Aeorex, placing a gloved hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.
“Aeorex. I am glad you have arrived early for the Council meeting: I had something I intended to speak with you about afterward, and your prompt appearance means we can deal with it beforehand so that you can get immediately back to business.”
Like an older mentor to a younger colleague, Alpha would fall in step beside Aeorex, hand still on his shoulder, and begin to walk him toward the window overlooking the city. “I have reason to believe there is something of great importance being hidden in the steam tunnels beneath the city. It is magically concealed, and carefully so, which explains why it has remained hidden until now. Søren has kindly volunteered a division of her Peacekeepers, herself leading them, as manpower with which to search the tunnels in a complete and thorough manner. I would ask that you assist them with technological support so that they might better find what they are looking for, and technical manpower as well, if possible. Perhaps Ms. Dirieté, or one of her subordinates could accompany them, and provide them tracking and locating equipment and support?”
Alpha would stop before the window, treating Aeorex to a view of the city that was similar, if both higher and grander, than the view from his own office at O. Holdings. The proposition, while phrased in such a way that it appeared to be a request, would likely be immediately interpreted by the CEO as exactly what it was: an order.
Alpha would wait for a response before continuing. “I’ll let you and Søren collaborate on the logistics. Now, is there anything you wish to address with me before we begin the Council meeting?”
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Post by Floraelia Devinian on Apr 4, 2014 21:46:13 GMT -5
The Mithrian was somewhat taken by surprise when Søren not only acknowledged her greeting but actually responded. Though her reply caused those jewel-bright eyes to narrow some, it wasn't in a specifically negative fashion. Something about Søren's tone gave the Diplomat pause, but rather than take the time to brood on whether the other woman was mocking her or otherwise had ill intentions, Floraelia simply smiled. The aura Søren oh-so-surreptitiously stressed grew slightly brighter for the warmth that suddenly emanated from the Mithrian.
”I suppose my dresses aren't terribly practical,” she fell silent for a barely-stifled laugh of mild self-deprecation. ”I could probably learn a lesson or two from you in choosing more sensible clothing— colors, at least.” Floraelia thoughtfully eyed the utilitarian construction and drab color scheme Søren favored.
There was a long moment— enough time for Søren to wonder, should she be inclined, if her less-than-stellar appraisal of Floraelia's attire simply passed over that artfully gathered arrangement of shock-white hair.
”But then I'd feel like I just looked so,” she paused, searching for the right word. “Boring.” The ice returned to eyes that had become penetrating, and the rolled clip of her accent became more pronounced. ”Predictable. Easy to overlook, and for good reason.” Her features had returned to near-complete neutrality by the time she stopped speaking.
Something about Søren got under her skin and, try as she might, Floraelia simply couldn't find it in herself just then to be gracious and accept that Søren might have actually been sincere for once. The Mithrian was quite accustomed to what the shorter woman thought of her: it shouldn't have been a surprise that she'd lash out right before a potentially serious Council meeting. Still, the Diplomat was behaving childishly, and did experience regret almost immediately following her own scathing appraisal of the other woman.
The sound of the lift opening then was a welcome interruption: Floraelia eyed the sliding metal doors with a verdant gaze that had cooled significantly. Of course, the man that stepped into the room was more than enough to erase Søren's presence from the forefront of the Mithrian's mind completely. She scarcely regained her decorum in time to offer the deepest— and very perfectly postured— dip of a bow the neckline of her dress would allow.
”Aeorex,” his name was spoken with one of her smiles as he passed, moving toward the office of the Magistrate. She watched the line of his shoulders closely as he moved, only adjusting to follow the motion of his finger tracing against the heavy stone of the Magistrate's chair. The Mithrian barely suppressed a shiver, turning toward her own chair and away from Søren: she knew the color on her cheeks wasn't especially deep, but she also had no intention of giving Søren a distraction from what she'd said earlier. . .
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