Aeorex Khestralicht
Initiated
Posts: 19
Title: Council-Elect for Third District, CEO of Ouroboros
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Post by Aeorex Khestralicht on Apr 20, 2014 23:49:05 GMT -5
Whereas it was always lovely to see the lovely Ms. Floraelia Devinian, the CEO's current attentions did not dally on either Council representative for longer than a moment, doing so only in passing. Surely either would understand that, despite rather intense feelings regarding both of them in kind, there were matters to attend to that rested outside the regular procedures of their convening like this. Virianus, the Magistrate now standing opposite him in regards to the table betwixt the pair, could regard it as arrogance as he so chose. He and the Council oft seemed quick to do so, and yet, to the crimson-haired man it mattered little beyond what influence it played upon already difficultly-managed relations. Perhaps it was the very definition of arrogance to regard himself as separate--interpreted as above, by some--from the full spectrum of the games that were played here, but it was true enough that, by his own perspective, arrogance for his own sake was folly. The same was true of greed, although it was perhaps only second in the characteristics often attributed to him by those whom looked upon him in less favorable light.
Such cardinal sins were, after all, a means to an end. Though he was perhaps the youngest of the representatives, and arguably the closest to human, his paradigm was surprisingly conducive to the effort for which he had been elected, whether such a race was rigged or not. His main frustrations, then, rested in the tendency for his peers to sidetrack themselves with the more personally gratifying of endeavors, even when doing so was not only at the cost of their efficiency in their duties, but the outright damning of their position. Whereas Soren felt the need to restrain the bile in her throat at the sight of him, it was a conscious effort on his part not to question her outright, regardless of any spectators present, as to what she had done with her influence to further the Trade City and its machinations in recent memory.
Looking upon the mask from behind the concealment of his own, the man's expression was effectively neutral beyond what one might expect of one so generally charming as himself. As was customary, he gave a nod of his head, dipping with enough emphasis to portray the respect the notion otherwise intended, parting his lips only to let slip out the man's title in greeting. "Magistrate." Whether or not he was aware of the Magistrate's insincere affections regarding the confidence that the CEO fully believed himself entitled to per his otherwise uncommon level of willingness to cooperate, he allowed a slight curl of a pierced lips into something more akin to a smile as the hand of the larger man's came to rest upon his shoulder. While he was patient enough to make his point after the Magistrate had made his own, he did take note of something in his greeting. 'Immediately.' Guided as he was around the desk, he let his physical attentions turn to rest on the City as it stretched out below them in the form of a view he had seen many a time before. That his keener senses beyond the human level of percept were prone to monitor what they could of Virianus's heart rate, body heat, pheromones, etc. was a minor note in that he expected, as per the norm, not to find anything of particular note. Moving his hands to clasp lightly and casually behind his back, he gazed out at the expanse as the other man expanded upon the notion he'd brought to attention only a moment ago.
The CEO made it a point to visibly glance in the direction of the Magistrate as Virianus noted that Soren had volunteered anything, though his ever-present, quiet grin hinted in acknowledgement at the true meaning. Were the woman less of a completely uncooperative bitch, he would have felt bad for her at how he imagined the exchange played out. Pushing it from his mind, he listened intently until Virianus had finished, refraining from remarking upon it until the other had finished entirely and to make a point of actually considering what it all meant before he responded. As much as he might have liked, it was not his intention to remark upon using the word 'collaborate' and the name 'Soren' in the same sentence as paradoxical.
"I'll work out the finer details with Ms. Diriete and make arrangements with Soren as soon as possible, then." He paused, if only to look directly upon Virianus to express something of a more serious air as he continued. "I assume details regarding this 'something' will be expanded upon and made available to my--rather, our--team to better calibrate our search efforts?" The slip had been something of an attempt at humor, but the message was clear. Too often did Virianus leave those beneath him in the dark, even in matters in which it was all too crucial that they be informed completely of both the nature and dangers of that which they sought.
Waiting for the Magistrate to answer before moving to his next point, he made to turn toward the main chambers of the room before stopping, his smoothly flowing tones never deviating in their controlled and practiced calm as he spoke. "There is another issue I wanted to address." Despite turning toward the distant company of Floraelia and Soren, his voice remained just soft enough to keep the topic at hand a private matter. "I would ask that, in the future, if you wish to have my attention, you seek it...directly." Devilishly calm as he was, that he was unwavering in looking mask-to-mask with the Magistrate accentuated his point effectively enough for his purposes. He was well aware that Virianus, likely more than any, knew the most effective route to Aeorex's direct attention and had exploited it. If it had been the CEO's attention the Magistrate was after, at least. Despite the rally Aidan had lead him into before his departure, however, the CEO knew well enough not to go about making a fool of himself. The point was clear, and spoken with enough practice to know that expanding upon it further would have been fruitless. Undoubtedly, he was angry at the man that had taken him in, and given him many of the keys to the doors that had led him to standing here today...but his lips were quick to slide into a pleasant grin before he stepped forth toward the distant Council chambers.
Grinning just as casually relaxed as upon his entrance, he was better at masking his frustrations than most. As a leader himself, he generally rewarded cooperation rather than tightened the leash. Taking his seat with a posture favoring his right side, his gaze lingered upon Soren for a moment, letting that grin hint at being the slightest bit more before moving on. He understood just as well that, despite the antics he disagreed with, it was not he whom the Magistrate wished to intimidate as potently, and the sudden rise of amusement in his grin hinted at expressing that. "Floraelia, you're looking wonderful, as ever. Is that a new dress?" Looking over the attire in greater detail now, he took visible note of her low neckline, but lingered only long enough to hint at an obvious attraction far removed from leering. Still, concealed though his eyes may have been, the quiet rise of the corner of his lip was given at the resulting blush and increase in heart rate that he expected to follow. As for Soren? What did she expect as a conversation starter between the finest tailored woman in the Trade City and its most powerful CEO? A comment about the weather?
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Post by Søren Kiirkegré on May 4, 2014 11:44:05 GMT -5
The Tower, specifically the beings that made up its internal viscera, despite their living, breathing nature, seemed to function more like an interlocking series of gears than like a biological organism. Each council member interlocked with those around them in a particular way, and the spinning of their respective gears caused ripples of motion throughout the various interconnected others. Sometimes a gear would slide off-track, either by design or by accident, and its motion would affect a new chain of individual components, with each change in configuration having widespread effects throughout the structure of the overall machine as a whole. But occasionally one of those gears was pulled off-track entirely, causing it to spin in abject futility without coming into contact with a single one of the other various parts of the machine. Nothing it did, no matter how fast it ran itself to create some kind of change, had an effect on any of the other components around it, and therefore, didn’t affect the machinery as a whole. It was a useless remnant of a former configuration, left in isolation, without purpose or function.
Søren felt like that lone gear, spinning in empty space. There were only a few possible outcomes for a component so isolated from the machinery around it, and the most likely outcome was it spinning so hard and so fast that it burned itself out, finally going dark and dead, a left-over organ in a body that had adapted new functionality as to make it unnecessary. That was what Alpha had set the former Guardian on course for with his most recent actions, and those fools around her, smiling while they idly spun in lockstep, driving the machine of the Tower forward with Alpha’s hand firmly on the wheel, already saw Søren as a useless left-over.
They were fools. They were fools exactly because they had already written that component off so casually when there was another possible outcome for that unconnected, spinning cog in the great machine. Sometimes, that spare part would come loose, and in its frenzied motion, fly off its tracks entirely and rip through the perfect order of the machine’s other components, causing untold damage and dysfunction to the machine as a whole. That one, small forgotten component could bring the entire structure to a halt, or worse, into the flaming embrace of combustive destruction if the right series of strikes resulted from the force of that gear flying through the structured casing of the mechanical monstrosity it was once a part of. Like a forgotten organ, long-since evolved out of use, but still capable of cultivating deadly infection, that isolated component could seem entirely ineffective up until the very second it breaks free and brings down the walls of the structure it inhabits.
Søren smiled blandly at Virianus’ daughter as she tried in vain to be as clever as her father always managed to be. The political game might have been the Mithrian bitch’s arena in some ways, but her level of analytical ability paled in comparison to the ruthless efficiency that the former Guardian had once been known for, and Søren would be all to happy to demonstrate that fact in the coming days. She didn’t let Floraelia’s little snips bother her, instead letting her bland expression develop into an extremely-uncharacteristic grin.
“You’re right, and I know you wouldn’t want that. If you didn’t have your looks, then, my, what would be left to draw attention to you? Only your great intelligence and charming personality; we wouldn’t want you to have to rely on those. Much simpler just to look interesting than to have to be so internally; I certainly envy your ability to do so.”
The former Guardian leaned back carefully in her seat and clasped her thin fingers in front of her lips.
Keep digging. We’ll see just how far you get before I bury you alive.
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Post by Floraelia Devinian on May 26, 2014 19:34:55 GMT -5
With Aeorex's absence it required very little time to recover and for the color in the Mithrian's cheeks to fade— especially when the diminutive Council-Elect made her caustic reply.
“Do you expect me to feel shame in my preference for silk? That would be as productive as demanding reparation for having to deal with your unpleasant demeanor.” Floraelia's eyes flashed darkly when she made an abrupt about-face to challenge Søren. They were still alone in the Council Chambers, and the other woman was trying her patience— that grin notwithstanding, out of character as it was.
”It's more than telling that you can't focus on anything beyond my wardrobe choices, Søren. Perhaps you should find something more valuable to be distracted by: I doubt my tastes will help you weather any changes coming.” It wasn't often the Mithrian meant to imply a threat. Really, it was a testament to how the red-haired Councilwoman needled at her ever-present poise and composure. Of course, Søren couldn't know that, nor could Floraelia know what transpired in her father's very private office only minutes before she'd arrived.
The corners of her mouth were slightly strained, as if she were a fraction of a second from baring teeth at the shorter woman. Conveniently, that was precisely the moment Third District's Council-Elect strolled back into the vicinity. Floraelia's features melted almost instantly into a more neutral expression— no grand feat considering her irritation wasn't explicitly marked on her features in the first place.
The sound of his voice provoked those same corners into the smallest smile, and her body began to turn toward the CEO's greeting. Those jewel-toned eyes, however, remained locked on Søren's blood-colored stare until the last possible second. Go on, Søren. Give me the nail. . .
By the time she faced Aeorex there was no more weight in her gaze, only the genuine pleasure seeing him inspired.
”Aeorex,” her smile widened as he approached, her form bending and chin dipping in a smaller version of the bow she'd offered earlier. ”You are looking well yourself. I trust you haven't been too taxed on your return to the City?” She couldn't exactly know where his gaze rested, but she was suddenly hyper-aware of just how low her neckline was without the security of a furred frame to act as a barrier. Though there was no betrayal of her awareness on her features the Mithrian couldn't stop herself from plunging the fingers of one hand into the rich, velvety pelt trimming the opposing sleeve, taking the time to adjust it carefully. ”It is a newer dress, actually. One I'm regretting not wearing sooner. . .” Floraelia just barely kept from directing a smirk in Søren's direction— perhaps the impulse was effectively quashed by her awareness that Aeorex had indeed surveyed her form, shockingly tight bodice and all, and approved.
Oh, certainly her cheeks flushed warm with color and the white-haired Mithrian discovered that it was impossible to continue looking at him directly with his penetrating stare obscured. Those emerald eyes slid off to her right, dainty fingers absently laced together between thick fur, and pearled teeth subtly bit into a full lower lip. Floraelia realized too late that her deep inhale would be extremely obvious to anyone watching from the front: the way flesh strained against silk as her lungs expanded couldn't be hidden. Her blood ran hot as verdant eyes cut back to his mouth, catching the quirked corner of his lips. Color exploded attractively on her cheeks, breathing humanity into features that could oft be mistaken for marble.
She was caught.
Floraelia couldn't turn away from him and risk offering Søren new information to needle her with, but she also didn't want to give Aeorex the satisfaction of seeing her so unbalanced, and how easy it was for him to keep her that way. Her teeth clenched, but not in anger. Shouldn't other members of the Council be arriving? Couldn't someone interrupt them so she could focus again?
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Post by Virianus Devinian on May 26, 2014 20:26:39 GMT -5
Virianus seemed to listen intently to Aeorex’s response, pausing for what would read, in terms of their conversation up to that point, as a long moment before choosing to respond.
“What details there are- and I admit there are very few- will, of course, be revealed. I assure you that what information exists will be sent to Ms. Dirieté post-haste: it will be necessary so that your team can better devise its strategy.” The Magistrate squeezed Aeorex’s shoulder before removing his hand from it, the pressure falling in exact time with the utterance of his final word on the matter, as though his grip forced the last beat of a heart that would then go silent.
Virianus turned his body slightly in order to face Aeorex as he repositioned himself to face the Council Chamber, the CEO’s drop in tone intending to signal the more private nature of his concerns. However, the sentiment was clearly not shared by Alpha, for as Aeorex highlighted his final word, Alpha’s vocal tone and timbre did not change to match that which Aeorex had intended to set for their conversation. Instead, the Magistrate spoke as normal, a dismissive chuckle rolling through his first words as he turned from the CEO and instead stepped around his desk.
“My dear friend Aeorex: I am confident that I chose the most direct route with which to communicate with you, as I will continue to do so. You are quite the busy man these days, a trait we certainly share: if I had felt there were a more efficient way to reach you in a timely manner, by all means I would use it.”
The truth of the matter was that Zenethrakarna’s visit to Aidan had little to do with Aeorex’s summons to the Tower, a fact the CEO would have been aware of had Aidan been more forthcoming with information regarding what else she did outside of her duties at Ouroboros. However, the fact that the Nightmare’s visit so bothered Aeorex meant that Aidan had done a poor job at keeping her emotions to herself – the visit had the intended motivating effect, but perhaps it also had the unintended consequence of Ms. Dirieté’s fear influencing the CEO’s interpretation of events. It was not an outcome that Virianus had planned specifically for, but perhaps the CEO’s lack of understanding could be capitalized on.
Alpha’s posture shifted as he splayed both of his gloved hands across the smooth stone of his desk and leaned against them, raising his gaze to again meet that of the CEO. Switching from the tone that dismissed Aeorex’s concerns as inefficient to a more serious note of address, Virianus’s words would imply a new meaning behind Zenethrakarna’s presence at Aidan’s doorstep, one that would perhaps tempt the CEO into slightly different action than he would have engaged in otherwise.
“However . . . since your presence, and that of your representatives, is so scarcely seen in the Tower, I was certain that contacting Ms. Dirieté amounted to a much more efficient relay for the information. Indeed, much more efficient than sending a representative to try and track you down, considering all of your various visits to Ouroboros’ concerns throughout the city each day. That said, it would certainly be a welcome change if I were to see you as we are now at more frequent intervals: I am sure, were that the case, that you would find information reaching you far more directly.”
Virianus straightened as he said the word directly, creating the same sort of emphasis on the term that the CEO had moments earlier. What Aeorex would choose to read of the Magistrate’s words was up to him, but the inference was clear: it was in the CEO’s best interest to be more commonly found near to Alpha’s doorstep.
“Your concern, however, is noted. Please join the others: once all have arrived, we will begin.”
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Post by Callixta Trëguere on Aug 8, 2014 21:54:58 GMT -5
As if in answer to the Mithrian wench's silent plea, the Council Elect of Fifth District stepped smoothly from the private lift that was the sole means of access to the Council Chambers. There was no hesitation in the petite woman's stride as she crossed the frame, metal doors sliding to a close behind her. Shining salt and pepper hair was pulled back tightly from ageless features into an intricate braid that began at her crown and nearly brushed the floor behind her. A highly detailed collar of worked silver covered the entirety of her neck, from just under her jawline to where the scalloped edges of precious metal fanned across her clavicle bones; recessed into where the hollow of her throat would be was an ocean-colored crystal large enough to draw attention. Lightweight silk in tones of deep sapphire draped her form modestly. Perhaps she wouldn't be immediately recognized― normally this particular member of Vascxious Sigma's prestigious Council was seen in the Tower as a pair of identical Twins affectionately referred to as Left and Right. This night, however, Two were One. Callixta Tréguere had been made whole again, and she intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. . .
Callixta's chin lifted and molten eyes of bright amber surveyed the three other Council members coolly. From the expression on Søren's face, the flush in Floraelia's cheeks, and the composure of the City's favorite CEO it could be guessed that Søren had sniped at one or both of the other two and received an appropriately scathing response in return. A closer look at Floraelia incited one fine brow to rise subtly. For being able to claim one of the world's oldest and most well-hidden racial heritages she certainly didn't seem to have inherited any of the more useful traits of Mithria's Chosen: Alpha's daughter was an open book when her emotions were involved.
”Aeorex. Floraelia.” Their names were spoken in dry acknowledgment. ”Søren. . .” It was nuanced, but there was a certain weight to the tone the other petite woman would not miss if she were any measure of attentive. They had things to discuss― and soon.
Callixta continued past them, her gaze refocusing on the entrance to the Magistrate's office. Like Aeorex before her, the Councilwoman offered no indication of her presence: she simply walked in, and closed the door behind her.
”Virianus. . .”
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Post by Virianus Devinian on Oct 4, 2014 22:55:39 GMT -5
”Callixta. Do come in. I hope your trip was fruitful?”
Alpha spoke cordially to the woman even before she closed the door at her back, Aeorex having already removed himself from the office and wandered back into the Council chambers. As Virianus settled back behind his desk he briefly wondered why Ishmael had not yet arrived – the Councilor was always rather punctual, especially to official meetings. Alpha had increased Ishmael’s responsibilities in the city significantly of late, and a bit of tardiness could thefore certainly be overlooked in his case, but it was unusual. Too many things were unusual in this day, a fact that reminded Alpha to more tightly tap into his information sources. Change was upon them, of course, but the Magistrate was not about to let his city descend into any manner of chaos for that reason alone.
The masked gaze of the Magistrate settled on Callixta, who no doubt would slither across the room and make herself comfortable, as she was oft to do, even when in her usual bipolar physical shell. That he had deemed to unite her into one singular body spoke of the importance of her mission. Merged, Callixta cut an impressively clever and powerful being, so much so that her separation was necessary to keep her under control. Too long together, and the two halves of the Twins could become a bit too independent for Virianus’ liking, and therefore such allowances had to be earned, and monitored carefully.
For now, however, the choice to keep the creature together had been a prudent one, for her position in the nearby township of Tamryn required a delicate intelligence not possessed by many other under Alpha’s control. The town had always been something of a hotbed for strange forces, but now too many of those forces sought to converge far too close to his city. They had to be monitored, and if necessary diverted – that was Callixta’s purpose, to which Virianus was certain she had come to him today to give an update on the situation.
“We haven’t much time before the meeting. However, with Ishmael overdue, I believe we can discuss the most important points of your forthcoming report.” Alpha settled himself lightly in the chair behind his wide desk, crossing one leg over the other and lightly resting his gloved hands one atop the other on his knee. ” Have you made any progress?”
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Post by Callixta Trëguere on Oct 6, 2014 14:12:53 GMT -5
Indeed, Callixta closed in on Alpha's desk with the same dry efficiency that had taken her through the Council's Chambers, though she didn't quite take the liberty of making herself too comfortable. Her particular set of circumstances was rather unique and the Fifth District Councilor was keenly aware of just how quickly they could change: there would be nothing heavy-handed about her behavior; she would give the Magistrate no reason to scrutinize her more closely than he already would. The sapphire-clad woman would pause a step or two away from the dark edge of that imposing piece of furniture and offer a short, but respectful dip of her chin.
”It has been, Magistrate.”
The deep amber of her gaze touched the outline of Alpha's mask as he gave leave for her to continue, not sparing any thoughts as to why Ishmael hadn't arrived yet. Callixta's features were rendered inert as she, very professionally, began to lay out the main points from her ongoing mission.
”I've made some very clear cut progress in making inroads to Tamryn's territory. Other than the obvious steps of purchasing property─ a moderately well-kept estate on the North side of the City's outskirts─ and fashioning an unobtrusive citizen 'presence' within Tamryn Proper I've been able to ascertain more about Tamryn's political structure and climate than I expected so soon.”
Callixta's eyes narrowed subtly as she watched the Magistrate's reaction very closely.
”Tamryn Holdings is controlled by a single entity and though I considered that fact nearly impossible at first, the more information I collect the more certain I am of its truth.”
Her features remained neutral as she continued, but she watched for any indication that Alpha already knew what she was telling him: she highly suspected that he was very aware of the situation in Tamryn─ both because she'd been sent there in the first place and because of a certain anecdote an observant bartender had given her.
”Almost every piece of property in Tamryn Proper is owned and generally maintained by that one entity. The leases for every business and retailer go back to the same address. Granted, the citizens are only vaguely aware of this truth and its implications: they refer to the 'Manor' as the epicenter of all major dealings, but there is no real curiosity beyond that. The territory is an extremely sheltering locale; those who have permanent residence have little to no interest in the outside world and the only chatter of any political consequence comes from the tourists─ none of which seem to bear any ill sentiment either way─ all a culture that is a product of this single benefactor as far as I can tell.”
Her voice did not change in tone or inflection as she went on.
”This single benefactor happens to be of great interest to Vascxious Sigma as well: the woman who calls herself Fureya is Tamryn's ghost operator. The same Fureya that is connected to the Ancient Mage and wanted for murder by Black Sun's rulers and quietly sought by Celesin.”
Callixta did pause there, weighing any possible reaction from the Magistrate.
”There is much more, which I intend to include in a full report after this Council session is concluded. Of everything I've learned, that, I feel, is the most important and required your immediate attention.”
Though the small-framed Councilwoman spoke as if she were absolutely certain the Magistrate had no idea of the Assassin woman's involvement, she was dead sure Alpha knew precisely what she'd find. The question was why did he send her when he had to be, at the very least, obliquely aware of her feelings on both the woman and her redheaded Master. . .
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Post by Virianus Devinian on Oct 6, 2014 15:35:21 GMT -5
Virianus Devinian listened carefully as Callixta spoke, his gaze meeting hers in such an unaltered way it would be impossible for her to discern any sort of telling reaction from the masked visage the Magistrate presented. Truthfully, he was impressed at the creature’s efficiency and resolve – she had laid appropriate groundwork for more dealings in Tamryn at an unprecedented rate, a fact that reinforced the worthiness of his decision to send the usually twin-bodied spectre to accomplish this important goal. Naturally, Alpha had not led on what he might or might not know about the territory and its governance: even had he known every bit of information Callixta had just imparted, Virianus was just the sort of man that would use the accuracy of her recitation as a gauge for her effectiveness. As it was, Virianus in no way let on if this was new or old information for him, but were Callixta to read into his lack of surprise that he knew all she said would be as foolhardy as trying to anticipate a boulder’s path downhill by the ‘expressions’ on its cragged surface.
Alpha waited patiently for the woman to finish before nodding thoughtfully. ”It would not surprise me that one being controls the whole of Tamryn Holdings any more than it does that nine can rule all of Vascxious Sigma: this ‘benefactor’ seems versed enough in administration that her territory runs well and her secrets stay well hidden – or well enough, as it were, to keep them from those of lesser skill than your own.” Alpha slowly stood and moved to look at the window at his back, a motion he had made almost more times than he could count in that afternoon. Glancing sidelong to Callixta over his shoulder, he would beckon her to his side and wait patiently for her arrival, giving her a grand view of the darkening cityscape as he continued speaking.
”If you are correct about this benefactor’s identity, and more so about her known associations, then we know this same individual has attracted a great degree of, shall we say, negative attention of late, a fact which could make the presence of her holdings so close to our city potentially problematic.”
Virianus stared down into Callixta’s eyes intensely from behind his mask while placing a gloved hand firmly atop the woman’s shoulder. He could never decide if he liked her better in one form or two – Alpha respected the spectre’s abilities and intellect, so much so that he kept her separate, and therefore partly confused and impeded, the majority of the time. However, on the Council, there were few others capable of handling tasks with such unmitigated expertise, and while her quick mind and scheming intuitions might present something of a problem on their own accord, the Magistrate knew that he would have much more use for this unified Callixta in the coming days.
”I admit I suspected that what you have found was the case, but I did not begin to know the details, nor the extent of the woman’s involvement in the town. You have done extremely well, Callixta, even just in this preliminary step: you and I must work more closely on this matter from here forward. Prepare your report, but speak not of your findings to the others until you and I can dissect them further. We can discuss your report, compare your knowledge to mine, and plan for further action together privately after the Council meeting. Please do take care of what business you have after the meeting and come to my chambers at midnight.”
Alpha firmly squeezed the woman’s shoulder before stepping back to his desk and glancing down to a few ink-covered documents written in a language none too many living beings could translate.
”Do please entertain the others until Ishmael arrives – once he does, we shall begin.”
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Post by Callixta Trëguere on Oct 6, 2014 21:35:34 GMT -5
The Councilor remained silent, watching Alpha as he spoke and then moved to the window at his back. The portal offered a breathtaking view of the massive metropolitan area that was Vascxious Sigma and, really, Callixta didn't need a great deal of encouragement to appear at his side. She looked up at him sidelong for a moment before shifting her gaze so that she could use the thick glass as a mirror of sorts to watch him. She hadn't expected to know the truth of what he knew or didn't know, and she definitely understood, to an extent, the futility in trying to decipher his motives with any real degree of clarity.
”She has, and it does. To a greater extent than I have made clear.”
She fell silent again when he continued, but couldn't quite keep herself from reacting to the very first sentence: Callixta looked up somewhat sharply when Alpha spoke of his suspicions. Well, that was a first: Virianus Devinian admitting to knowing more than he let on when she was being briefed on her task. There had to be something very different about this City, possibly about this woman that had him willing to be a little more forthcoming with his information. Or else she'd passed some kind of test by coming up with exactly the same information he already had access to. Her eyes narrowed perceptibly, but not in skepticism or anger. It was curiosity that had her more open-minded with Alpha than she'd been in a very long time. Something was brewing and it was far bigger than she'd realized: anything that dealt with the Mage had that tendency.
Callixta scarcely suppressed the urge to lick her lips.
That he explicitly commanded her not to share anything she'd learned was interesting: it usually went without saying that conversations in Alpha's private office stayed that way. Either it meant that things could be connected and a greater plot could be revealed were she to collude with any of the others─ a very dangerous risk such conspiracy carried should she choose the wrong ally to consult with─ or it meant there was possibly something very time- or circumstance-sensitive in her working knowledge of Tamryn. She'd think on it during the session: after all, the conclusion she came to would determine what business truly needed attention after the Council meeting.
The Councilor only narrowly avoided flinching when the Magistrate's hand settled on her shoulder. As much as she appreciated and welcomed physical touch when she was Two, being in direct contact with another being when she was herself was disconcerting─ the fact that being was Virianus himself made the disorientation even more potent. It was good then, that Alpha made no point to watch her reaction too carefully: he wouldn't have missed the sudden unbalance he caused her otherwise. Callixta inhaled deeply and quietly, only now remembering that she should probably respond to his very interesting offer at actual collaboration.
”Midnight. I will be there, Magistrate.”
It would be blatant self-denial if she considered the turn of events to be expected. The idea that Alpha meant to share information with her, regardless of whether it was all the information he had or not, was shiver-inducing. It was really the first time Virianus had treated her as any sort of equal─ at least since Risis.
She glanced at his desk before offering another short bow: she'd been dismissed and she wouldn't be overstaying his welcome. There was still the fact that she couldn't be heavy-handed to consider.
”With pleasure, Magistrate.” And truly, now that her initial report had been given, Callixta looked to re-enter the Council Chambers with some relish.
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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 Oct 22, 2014 21:00:43 GMT -5
Keeping his smirk and calm air to contrast with the lady Floraelia's increasingly unsettled reaction, that his mind and truer attentions rested elsewhere should have been well concealed; Floraelia surely did look lovely, but at present there were larger concerns than his consideration of how even lovelier it would be to see how that finely-tailored dress peeled away from the curves of her smooth, perfect flesh.
Virianus wanted to see more of Aeorex in the Tower, or so he had claimed. Why was a multitude of possibilities, the most concerning among them being that the city's Magistrate might have felt Aeorex was straying too far from the obligations of his position. Was he? His anger in response to Zenethrakarna's visit to Aidan cooling and put to rest for the moment, he considered the trend of his more recent activities. Yes, Aeorex did visit the Tower less than some of his fellow district representatives; far less, in fact, than some. He could claim that his obligations to Ouroboros, which was just as much a machine for the Magistrate's intended design on the city's infrastructure as it was Aeorex's corporation, kept him busier than some and feel justified in slacking on weekly visits for medicated doses of intimidation or patronization. Aeorex was a servant of the machine in that he was a taskmaster, seeing to it that his widespread influence in the city and deeply-rooted machinations in not only keeping the city--beyond simply the territory of his own district--running efficiently but also constantly developing. Pile on his additional projects on the side as well as effectively controlling the city's criminal underground, and it left little time remaining in the day.
Virianus knew all of this, however; knew it, and still wanted more of Aeorex's presence in the Tower. Was it part of a larger effort to reign in the entire Council, or was he specifically targeting Aeorex in this? Delegating more tasks to his subordinates was possible, he supposed--much as Ms. Diriete might think he already did too much of--but he was still curious of the reason. Handling the myriad day-to-day issues as he was, he had felt himself slipping into the backseat of events, and that had been fine, for a time. His complete cooperation was almost uncharacteristic for a Council member, given that so many--his own frustrations notwithstanding--fought against the Magistrate's control. Was it no longer enough, however? Or was Aeorex's role soon to change? Secretly, he hoped for the latter; focusing on the efficiency of his corporation's and the city's minor details only amplified the frustrations he felt concerning the bickering of the Council and the design of the game. This sentiment was only more pronounced when, giving a nod to--one?--Callixta, he watched her move to the Magistrate's office and close the door to discuss private concerns. Though he could hear nothing of their conversation even with his special biology, his presumption of their discussing business recalled in him the memory of his time as an agent, with a bit more nostalgia than he cared to admit.
But what brooding! He could sit in his stiff and uncomfortable council seat to withdraw and brood all he liked, and all he'd accomplish would be the lessening of his effectiveness in the game that he was no large fan of in the first place. It was a game, however, that none of them could simply refuse to play. For that reason, though his mind lingered on the above topics, his pacing in conversation and interaction with the two ladies before him never hesitated or faltered, his mind sharp and quick as his own reflexes, and his attention more partitioned than divided. He smiled at Floraelia. "Taxed? No. Though there are far too few hours in the day, complaining about the demands I was chosen to see to does little in the way of actually getting anything done." He paused, and with emphasis at that. What he had said was perhaps an elaborate sidetrack from Floraelia's intended focus, and in truth, scarcely directed at her in the currently three member conversation. Still, just when the affront was starting to transition from jab to a full left hook, he gave a light laugh and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "Still, I won't deny that I've been giving a slight push to the pharmaceutical departments to make some advancement on drugs for increased endurance in personal energy levels.” Depending on just how deviant she was feeling at the moment, she could let her mind take that particular note in any direction she liked. “As am I, my dear. You’ll have to tell me the maker so that I can recognize such a talented artist.” ‘Not that even the most gorgeous frame would make an already exquisite piece finer,’ he thought. So he’d nudge her mind a bit in regards to that crack about the endurance drugs; who wouldn’t?
Letting his relaxed smirk stay put, he’d pull his concealed gaze away from the lovely councilwoman to spare her the most obvious of his intense observations as she responded; with so much flesh deliciously exposed, he’d much rather see how deeply she flushed in a more private setting anyway. Instead, he attention directed itself to Soren. Ah, Soren.
“Speaking of charming personalities, Soren, are you a morning person? I imagine that you are.” Or he imagined that the typically angry bear was a real monster when she rolled out of bed. Either one. His playful prodding aside, there was a gradual cooling to his expression, hinted at only by the stillness of his muscles as they put less effort in appearing entertained. A serious suggestion, then, was to follow. “I need to meet with you concerning our joint task. Personally.” He’d allow another pause, so that she could consider the implications. Not ‘my people will provide you with what you need,’ or ‘I’ll have Ms. Diriete arrange the details.’ The two council elects would be discussing the matter one on one, and it was critically important that she pondered on the why of it until that time. Relaxed as he was in his posture, leaning to one side with one leg crossed casually over the other, he lifted his fingers to steeple before him with the implication of thought. He was up to something, and he wanted her to know it. She could, and likely would, slander his efforts and possible intentions all she liked, but it didn’t change the fact that something was in the air. A proposal, perhaps. No, not that kind. By the gods, even he couldn’t tolerate that much pain. “I’ll see you at Ouroboros early, then?” It was less a question than a demand, but not one wholly based on authority. If he was going to propose something, she could do him the courtesy of coming to him. Or she wouldn’t, and the mystery offer would be off the table, and he’d assist her only so much as was required by Virianus’s instruction. It was entirely her choice.
Glancing to Floraelia with enough of a turn of his head to indicate he was doing so, giving his hidden eyes, he smiled, done with the topic and back to regarding her until it was time for the meeting to actually begin. A shame he would be so busy tonight; perhaps he could find a spare hour or two, he hoped.
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Post by Søren Kiirkegré on Nov 4, 2014 17:43:45 GMT -5
It would be entirely likely that the rapid rotation of Søren’s eyeballs would be heard throughout the city of Vascxious Sigma. The smug little princess, bastard child of the Magistrate thought herself so quick-witted that she had already ‘moved past’ the verbal spar in her mind, her attention turning to other targets. Floraelia’s attempt at a comeback left the former Guardian to as impressed at the woman’s wit as a rock was to the fortitude of a block of cheese, but the woman’s self-assured ignorance was something that Søren could be impressed with. Like a doll who spouted snarky platitudes when its string was pulled, Floraelia painted herself with a smug smile just before letting her attention spin, curtsy for her gentleman caller, and deliver a vapid response to Aeorex’s appraisal that almost caused a low choking sound to drone out of Søren’s throat. While the Guardian suppressed the sound, she did shake her head in abject amusement. Hadn’t Floraelia just been trying to impress on everyone how cool and in-control she was? Apparently, it only took a glance from a man with a face like a Rottweiler to reduce her to a blushing mess – she might have had her back turned to Søren, but Floraelia’s reactions were as easily predicted as her so-called comebacks. The fact that Floraelia had apparently noticed her own silly behavior and attempted to suppress it only made the smile on the female Guardian’s face grow more devious. She could pretend herself an adult all she wanted, but in more ways than she could even count, Floraelia was still an infant. Undoubtedly Alpha was responsible for that – him and his strange, underlying obsession with the corruption of innocence. He probably kept the girl around for that reason alone, a tempting chocolate that he took a bite out of from time to time. The Guardian could see the appeal, but Floraelia honestly didn’t seem worth the trouble.
Søren leaned herself back in her chair and intertwined her fingers over her stomach, taking on a position like that of a matron waiting for her adolescent charges to stop making eyes at each other and get back to business. Aeorex, like Floraelia, thought himself to be monumentally clever in his own right, and it amused Søren immensely listening to him drop an innuendo that the fair-haired ignoramus opposite him didn’t have much hope of catching on to. Their obliviousness was only match by their self-importance, the both of them, and in that way, they were perfect for each other, though the Guardian suspected that they were far too dysfunctional to have even made real progress on the notion of copulation. Aeorex wouldn’t have to make jokes if they had after all.
It was as she watched the two cavort around each other like half-brained mules discussing how beautiful their children would be, Søren realized that her position was not as awful as she had initially thought. While Alpha was certainly putting her in a bind of greater magnitude than she had experienced in some time, he had also, perhaps unintentionally, given her a potential opportunity. Things were changing rapidly, by the guiding movements of Alpha’s right hand, and therefore the temporary moment of chaos within the coming transition, while designed to see her trampled underfoot, could be something that the Guardian was able to capitalize on. In light of that thought, Søren took a carefully look at Aeorex, coincidentally in the same moment he decided to attempt to bring her back into the conversation. Keeping her smile bland, but still caustically amused, Søren reconsidered Aeorex’s position. The man clearly wanted more than he had, like they all did, but as one of the youngest within the Council, the man’s clout with Alpha was all that had sofar kept him ahead, were there no accounting for the stagnant failings of the other members that Søren, reluctantly, had to connect to herself. Alpha saw him as a new breed, a younger, more energetic, and therefore more controllable, asset: the Guardian, the Shell, and the Twins were old dogs that could not be taught new tricks a readily as a puppy like Aeorex. It was no wonder he was the up-and-comer, and Søren realized that, while she might be loathe to admit it, that quality of Aeorex’s was one she should try and steal for herself. The thought didn’t stop the woman from scorning him, but Søren was also quickly realizing that she needed to get her own ego out of her way if she intended to survive the next few months.
The former Guardian narrowed her eyes, but kept her smile affixed on her face, imitating the jester in the next room to a T. Aeorex’s tact was unexpected – had the man realized just how much of an opportunity he had been presented with? Was he smarter than Søren had given him credit for? Not likey, but the woman wasn’t about to smack the dog with the newspaper it had shredded if it could still be taught to fetch the thing intact.
Søren laughed. “While I’m sure that would be thrilling, I am overseeing a very-important operation in the Underground in the morning.”
While Aeorex would likely think it was an excuse, he would also grudgingly have to realize that the former Guardian’s position as head of the Special Operations Forces made such an operational conflict totally plausible.
Søren let the words hang for a moment, but then feigned an aire of thoughtfulness, pointing in the CEO’s direction suggestively.
”Still . . . A personal meeting might not be a bad idea. Why don’t you come along with me on the raid? It might do you some good to get out of that stuffy office and see some action . . . that is, if your stamina can handle it?”
The woman’s statement might have sounded like a question, but it was clearly meant as a challenge, which put Aeorex in an interesting little masculine quandary in front of the woman he was trying to woo. To reject would make him seem afraid, or weaker, and he could not so easily lean on how busy he was, considering the well-known capability of his second in command, to whom Søren had no such counterpart. Additionally, the Guardian hadn’t rejected his offer outright as had been anticipated, likely surprising everyone, including herself. The apparent compromise might not have seemed like much, but it was much more than any of them had seen from Søren by way of pliability in several years.
“Or, if you aren’t as much of a morning person as you claim, I can accompany you back to your ivory tower after the council meeting. It’s your call.”
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Post by Floraelia Devinian on Nov 5, 2014 23:58:59 GMT -5
Finally.
The lift doors opening in Floraelia's peripheral vision was a welcome reprieve that could not have come sooner. Suddenly, the Mithrian Diplomat was much more composed, and the color darkening her features faded a touch. Her focus shifted from Aeorex to Fifth District's representative with a subtle tilt of her chin. Fine brows furrowed together in an expression that cooled into neutrality as the snow-haired councilwoman watched Callixta Trëguere─ calm, collected, and in one seamless form─ stride past them toward the Magistrate's office, acknowledging all three of them in quick succession.
”Callixta,” Floraelia dipped her chin to return the greeting, and while she certainly wanted to stop the other Council-Elect and ask a few tactful questions in regards to her unified state, the Mithrian was more than aware that if the other woman had a meeting with Virianus, her curiosities could wait. And, on second thought, was there really a tactful way to ask why she wasn't occupying two forms? There was also the fact that Aeorex was responding to her, and Søren was still at her back. Speaking of, it seemed Floraelia wasn't the only one dishing a little snark in the petite redhead's direction. In fact, the gemstone green of her gaze lingered on Aeorex just long enough for him to complete his thought before becoming a sideways glance to where Søren took up space. The corners of her mouth twitched in amusement as her posture straightened. No, it wasn't like the Wolf to complain or focus on trivial things: that was precisely why he had the success he did. Maybe Søren could use his instruction. . .
Fortunately for all of them, Floraelia wouldn't be giving voice to such ideas: there was already enough tension in the room, and she was a Diplomat. Being divisive and confrontational was more Søren's method than her own.
The conversation took a different turn and Aeorex would find himself the center of Floraelia's attention then, though it would probably be clear to him that she found it a struggle to try to maintain eye contact while not being able to see his eyes─ perhaps he would experience a certain amount of satisfaction in her slight discomfort at finding herself mentally tracing the lines of his lips as he spoke.
”I'm sure that could be immensely helpful, with days as long as yours. It could probably help you make the most of your nights as well. . .” The Mithrian trailed off, her words spoken in good faith until that very creative imagination of hers instantly extrapolated on her own statement. The color in her cheeks lingered as she struggled to maintain steady 'eye contact.'. She hadn't meant to imply anything inappropriate, but between the tension already mounting and Søren's presence the Mithrian was remarkably determined to remain as collected as she could. It was probable the Wolf could guess just what sort of imagery came to mind when Floraelia paused, but at least Søren wouldn't get any concrete evidence that she understood the implication of her own words. At any rate, Aeorex smoothly continued without skipping a beat and Floraelia didn't have to struggle to fill any lengthy silences.
”I'll be sure to get you his card, then. He does wonderful work─ I'm positive he'd love the chance to collaborate with you.”
There was warmth in the small smile she gave him then, before she disengaged enough to claim her actual seat─ that of Second District, next to Aeorex. To be truthful, there was a moment or two before her spine straightened where she came to the somewhat uncomfortable realization that the dress she wore was not one that was necessarily meant to be a 'sitting' dress: there was no way to arrange herself other than with perfect posture if she expected to be breathing as well as appropriately contained. Floraelia carefully smoothed her shock-white locks back and away from her face before folding her hands under the cover of all that dark, rich fur at her sleeves. It would be an outright untruth to say that she wasn't listening to the two of them, dancing around each other to arrange a meeting: Søren really couldn't simply deal directly with anyone, could she? She watched the petite woman across the room impassively. It wasn't in Floraelia's nature to wish anyone ill, but sometimes the brunette could provoke to the uppermost threshold of the Mithrian's patience. It bothered her that Søren had never liked her─ she, who was loved, or at least respected, by everyone she knew. Really, Floraelia just wanted to know what it was about herself that made Søren so disagreeable.
. . .if your stamina can handle it. . .
That startlingly bright emerald stare narrowed at the Sixth District representative, but the Mithrian remained silent. Aeorex had nothing to prove and certainly not to Soren. There was a reason the CEO of Ouroboros was considered a favored 'son' by the Magistrate. Floraelia watched with some degree of intensity as they settled with each other wondering why it was imperative that they meet. No doubt it was some new project or task assigned by Alpha himself: she couldn't imagine Aeorex approaching the dark-haired witch of his own volition even if there was a vague overlap in some of their interests. . . Idly she wondered if the CEO had eaten dinner yet, and her focus shifted to him. That Ishmaél was not his usual punctual self had escaped her notice for now. The meeting would start when it would. Until then, Floraelia intended to relax and focus on the man next to her.
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Post by Callixta Trëguere on Nov 10, 2014 15:00:47 GMT -5
Callixta re-entered the Council Chamber to find the same three finally settled in their respective seats─ Søren slouching and looking the part of the schemer while Floraelia stared at Aeorex like she was a breath away from swooning, the scandalous fit of that dress aside, and the CEO looked his usual authoritative self. Fifth District's representative couldn't suppress a subtle eyeroll at Floraelia and Aeorex that Søren probably would have caught if she were paying attention to her approach: the other two were too busy mooning at each other to notice.
”Has anyone been informed on what this meeting is about?”
Callixta had received a summons and nothing else, but she didn't want to assume that was the case for all of them. Her small frame settled into Fifth's chair─ the first one on the Magistrate's Left and next to Søren's seat, directly across from Ishmaél's empty seat─ and one leg crossed over the other, revealing the fitted pants of the same sapphire color and tall brown boots under the folds of her split dress. The steel-haired woman fixed amber to garnet in a sidelong stare: she and Søren needed to talk, but she wouldn't risk mentioning such here. Not when Alpha himself was in the next room and his collared Terror was roaming freely. It was just as well that she couldn't communicate freely just then because Callixta still hadn't sorted out what she would share with Søren and what was off-limits when she couldn't see what cards Alpha held. There was no mistaking that Callixta deeply resented the Magistrate and had, and would still, actively work against his interests in favor of finding a way to free herself of him, but not to the detriment of the opportunity being reunited presented.
Still, the ancient Mage was involved and who better than Søren to consult with? None of the other Council members understood just how dangerous that entity was to them and their City, and Callixta wasn't so invested in Vascxious Sigma that she'd give up everything for it. They, of the Magestirium, had already done what was needed to draw the eye and ire of the Mage when really the former was more than enough to warrant panic. And now it had surfaced that one of the Mage's closer associates was the ruler of a City in her own right─ a City that was uncomfortably close. They should have killed Fureya when they had her in custody. At least then they would have reduced the Mage's assets by one. Somehow the woman had been released and allowed to drift back to the side of her Master. Whatever game Alpha was playing at made her nervous and never, not even for one second, did she consider the Magistrate had anything in his arsenal that could permanently protect the City from the Mage and his followers.
Callixta adjusted her long braid so that it fell over the arm of her chair. She'd already spent too much time trying to figure out what it was about the metal-haired witch that had Alpha unwilling to pull the plug on her, but until she understood the reasoning it would keep coming up. There had to be something in Fureya's past that was the key to whole thing: who she happened to be was just a threat and couldn't factor in. Something or someone she knew. . . Something important, but what was important enough to Alpha to overlook real danger?
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Post by Ishmaél Mirr on Nov 10, 2014 19:29:50 GMT -5
”No. But we shall know shortly enough, making any conjecture on the topic pointless.”
The dark, rasped sound of Ishmaél’s voice entered the room in concert with the swoosh of the opening lift – apparently, the Vagrant’s timing had been so impeccable that he had managed to hear Callixta’s words even through the dense metal of the lift doors. That, or the Counselor from First District possessed sensory powers beyond that of the average being.
The latter was most likely true: here stood a man that, though shaped in most ways as a biological human ought to have been, was none the less missing the core tenants that made up a human being: fear, envy, greed, hatred, caring, and life. These things, these traits of humanity could easily be found in the rest of those Counselors gathered, and as the Vagrant strode into the chamber-on-high, he counted each human virtue to its possessor. Aeorex, the leader of lesser men, was of Greed, the want of all that he did not possess, the hunger to burn past foe and friend alike for the unattainable, irrational more. Envy belong to Søren, whose covetous nature, driven by her deep-seated inferiority, caused her to lash out like a spoiled dog during each and every moment she lay awake. Fear belonged to Callixta – the healthiest of human failings, and the most rational in the way it drove them towards survival, and by contrast caring was the jurisdiction of even, fair Floraelia, who like the light bravery to Callixta’s dark terror, sacrificed herself unknowingly upon the alters of lesser, yet more capable creatures.
The Vagrant’s features, a facsimile of humanity that was dark, jagged, and made grotesque by the display of lifelessness riding in the creature’s eyes, were uncovered this day, leaving him to appear a man in excess of six feet in height, with grizzled male features that might have been considered strong and handsome by human standards, were it not for the scarring twists of flesh that signaled an incomplete formation. Over the minutes, those scars would fade and rearrange, bringing the spectre of human creation closer to the light of life, but still possessing no more real human spark than a dim electronic circuit when compared in brilliance to a raging bonfire.
Ishmaél hardly cared for his outer exterior, nor how his awkward, heavy gait might have been painful for the more physically graceful among them to watch. As was so often true, the Vagrant had arrived because he was summoned, and with no greater reason to his presence past this fact alone. The puppeteer called to his creations, and one by one they came, jaunting along as if it were their own volition that gave them stride rather than the strings tied tight around wrist and ankle. Ishmaél didn’t bother to give greeting to any within the chamber: he sat, curling his overlarge figure into his equally magnanimous seat, settling his dull grey gaze on the assembled, his features as devoid of expression as if they had been carved from stone.
If each assembled represented one of the human attributes, the key creators of biological predetermination, with Ishmaél himself possessing none, to whom then does hatred belong? Within, were expressions in the Vagrant’s scope of attention, he might have grinned at the thought – but of course, the most esteemed of human powers belong to their host. Alpha’s hatred of them, of those he enslaved, of those he ruled, could never be underestimated, and though his wiles caused that expression to be masked under practicality, under care, even love, Ishmaél gave no quarter to the Magistrate’s illusory designs. The man, could he still be called any such thing, was more like the Vagrant than he was like any other, save this one remaining attribution of humanity. To some, this might be a loss, a misgiven end to a long and treacherous path leading in the wrong direction, but the Vagrant made no such judgments. Alpha, as all of them, simply was, and no other state could be attributed to life or death within the mind of Ishmaél. Such things had never been a part of the Vagrant’s concern.
Ishmaél settled into silence, glancing between each of them, waiting for their squabbling to end so that they may take their seats. Their schemes, their alliances and petty, distractive competitions carried as little importance t the Vagrant as the air around him he made no effort to breathe – superficial concerns that were of no consequence.
And yet, perhaps tied to the paradoxical nature of the incorporeal-made-flesh, Ishmaél still listened, cataloguing each of their concerns, their treaties and betrayals. He analyzed them all with the cold efficiency of an outsider, and judged them all equally. Though he cared not for their outcome, they would be fools to think that the Vagrant was not intensely aware of their actions . . . if not also, in possibility, their thoughts and feelings.
They would settle, he was sure. And in time, Virianus, the Judge of all, would enter and begin, and thusly, after the business is finished, Ishmaél would move on again, back to his responsibility as it had been charged. For now, the Vagrant would wait, his steel grey eyes piercing the lot of them as though his gaze were steel bare hurled through the weakest tinges of flesh. His presence, if silent, was always felt, and Ishmaél, by design, would not relent the weight of his arrival from the assembled until business was done.
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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 Nov 17, 2014 22:37:07 GMT -5
The Third District’s representative kept his smirk; surely if he could hold it this long under Soren’s unrelenting assault of raging, uncooperative pettiness, his was the most crowd-winning of all the Council’s smiles. It could never be so easy as a simple agreement with Soren. The meeting had to be on her terms, and only after she’d had the opportunity to completely reject his own proposal of a location. She might look to his possible agreement as a sign of relenting to her, he imagined. It was possible—though even he wouldn’t hold his breath—that she could stop being a bratty child long enough to see that his ultimate goal was cooperation.
“Fine.” That his smirk was there is a useless description at this point, but still his pierced lips curved all the more, and he even went so far as to shake his head slightly in apparent amusement. Acceptance on her terms and her terms alone, and a prod at his sexual capability to boot; he was going to enjoy this joint assignment so very much. “Whereas I doubt I’ll do little more than get in the way of someone so highly efficient and goal-oriented as you and your fellow operatives, I’ll do my best to avoid any crossfire that might see me riddled full of holes.” As much as the Six District’s representative might be fond of that possibility. To accentuate that, his head canted slightly, and he flashed just a bit more teeth into that smile. “Send me the particulars, and I’ll see you bright and early?” Perhaps he’d bring her coffee; he could only imagine what terrors in even this city of nightmares could outweigh a morning Soren, freshly lurching out of bed without any caffeine to make her a functional member of society. Well, somewhat functional.
With that concluded, at least for the time being, he pulled his attention away from the short, dark-haired Council member in favor of much more pleasant company. Resting his jawline on the knuckles of a loosely balled fist as he shifted in his position to regard her more fully, grinning in her response. “The night is a time so often wasted, after all. Who among us has any great amount of time for sleep?” For once, even he cursed his use of a concealing visor, wishing he could accentuate the inquisition with a wink. To the latter statement he nodded quietly; Aeorex trusted his own tailor perfectly well, but he wouldn’t turn down the lovely Floraelia. Grin calm and confident, lips parted to speak once more before pausing, slowly closing with a minimal amount of disappoint not fully concealed on his features. A moment later, and the large form of Ishmael came lumbering into the room. Should the man happen to glance in the CEO’s direction, Aeorex would nod, his expression shifting to a somewhat more reserved display. “Ishmael.” With this indicator of the impending meeting’s nearing commencement, the CEO began to settle into a more appropriate mindset, intertwining his digits lightly before him and resting his elbows on the rests at either side, his concealed gaze directed toward the ring of chair’s center. Gathering his focus away from how frustrating Soren could be, and how equally or surpassingly appealing Floraelia could be, his memory traced back to Aiden’s presumption at just what the meeting could be about. He had in mind that, for once, it might be better to take a step back for the moment, and see how things unfolded. It wasn’t in his usual practice to be hesitant, but even the most successful predators were cautious from time to time.
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