I - Truths and Lies [Mostly Open]

[iceheart_imperial]

WHO: Ysanne Poirier, You
WHERE: Northwestern Imperium, Elsewhere by Appointment (Am flexible!)
WHEN: First week of the month
WHAT: Various prompts, mostly open - find one that works for you! Looking for all early CR here: Imperium business, meetings with Rebel cell leaders, diplomacy with other powers, recruitment for the faction, everything! Oh, and one assassination attempt with associated skullduggery.
WARNINGS: Violence in one closed prompt, will add as necessary.




Prompt A - Arrivals/Diplomatic Reception [Open]

On the whole, she would much rather be doing paperwork. The pressing of the flesh, the putting on of a friendly face without more important things to do - it grated. It was, of course, the price she paid for her position. Being a public figure made you more than yourself, and no matter how genuinely felt an emotion, there was always this element of performance. On the whole, she'd much rather be dueling with Parliament. Ever since the Emperor had agreed to the Parliament having a role in the day-to-day administration of the state, proposing bills and such, the game was much more interesting. It was ironic, really. The moment she'd given them more teeth, they'd turned around and tried to bite her.

But such was any sort of legislative assembly - messy, riven by cross-interests, and prone to shifting factionalism.

She loved it.

But, today, she was greeting new arrivals. It was the Emperor's command, and she obeyed. He saw wisdom in it that she did not. She wore a black suit with high but no tie. From the vest pocket, an old bronze watch-chain hung. Occasionally, out of habit, her hand would stray to the chain, fingers feeling the length as if making sure it were still there.

----

Later, it was a reception - a dinner and the like for diplomats, traders, and others to meet and see what profit could be had, in any of the various ways that could be taken. For that she wore a black dress, setting herself apart from the day-to-day fashion in the Imperium. She always made a point of it.

She mingled, a glass of champagne in her hand. This was the in-between: social, yet on her toes - you never knew who would approach you, after all.


Prompt B - Business of State [Open]

Those ushered into her office would find it far less grand than they might be expecting. There were no grand balconies - not even any windows. Though it was appointed in deep woods and old-style furniture, there was an absence of luxury to it. On the wood paneling behind her desk was a grand portrait of The Emperor, in suitably respectful style.

The only other portrait, facing him from over the door, was of an older man, with rheumy eyes. All the other decoration was a bar globe of considerable age, and a hand-drawn map of the island of Miquelon, her home. There were framed pictures on her desk, carefully kept facing her. Her parents, and another of a young woman, smiling, with a mass of freckles and short almost orange hair. She was holding a Turbot.

The Prime Minister looked up as the person entered, laying aside her pen. There was no sign of a computer.

"Ah, right on schedule."


Prompt C - The Coming of Storms [Open to Jane Foster and Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier]

She waited, alone, in the forest. Discovery Island was, she reflected, beautiful this time of year. If only her purpose there could be called beauteous. She watched the dock below her, as the small boat approached. The entire thing rankled her, set her on edge. She was taking an appalling risk. But whatever it was was coming out of the White Tower, and that made it worth the risk. There was still, and always, the overriding priority of vengeance for her.

She'd had great difficulty, in recent months, developing assets within their territory. Offers of wealth didn't go as far as they used to, and most of the people who could be appealed to on ideological grounds were already in a state of rebellion against the Tower - or against everyone. So when one of her few assets had contacted her with a very short, very terse message...she had given it great heed.

Discovery Island - Meet Time Beta - No Guards within a kilometer.

And so, here she was. There were guards on the island, spread out, watching other approaches. She herself had a gun on her, though that was for appearances more than anything. She wrapped her coat around herself a bit more tightly, wind whipping at her hair. And watched the boat as it reached the small jetty.

Whatever it was, it had to be important.

Comments

A- reception

[ambitiousblond]

In all honesty, Rufus hates these types of events. He had to attend many functions similar to this as Vice President and he found it insufferable and this wasn't much better. But as tedious as this was, receptions were also a way to obtain information once the champagne started flowing.

He was a stranger here but it helped that he has experience with functions like this so to all appearances he belongs here despite being a stranger. He's dressed simply in a white suit, a full glass of champagne in hand all night. But he wasn't here to get drunk and socialize, he was here for information. There had been news of a particular and familiar silver-haired 'monster' in this area. He couldn't deal with this situation by himself. In the absence of any potential allies from his world, Rufus needed other allies and information that would help him stop this situation.

So that's why he here pretending to be interested in mindless stories and vapid jokes while he silently sorts through the attendees to figure out who was useless for his purposes and who could potentially be of assistance.

[iceheart_imperial]

She kept an eye on that, out of the corner of her eye. It was an old trick, and it was simply amazing how many people didn't notice it. All you had to do was switch to a fresh glass every now and again, and you seemed to be quite the participant without risking even the tiniest bit of loss of control.

She'd taken to emptying hers halfway into potted plants wherever possible. It added to the theater.

It would take some time, but eventually the traffic patterns would open a gap between them, and eyes would meet.

[ambitiousblond]

Rufus had been eying an official dressed in a uniform that wasn't close to practical and probably last properly fit him decades ago. He couldn't help but mentally snort to himself with amusement how some stereotypes seemed to be the same no matter what world he was in.

He turns away to make eye contact with her from across the room, raising a glass to her with a nod. He badly needed assistance with Sephiroth but the last thing he needed was to even appear desperate for it.

B

[crimsonunion]

The young man who hustles his way into the room is nondescript in such a blatant way that makes it painfully obvious that it's a disguise. Maybe it's the equally painfully earnest attitude or the dash of individuality from the bangs swooping low over one eye that gets him past the guards, but as soon as the door closes, he literally bursts into scraps of cloth, leaving behind one very disgruntled looking Ryuko Matoi.

"You rang?"

[iceheart_imperial]

Or her very casual attitude and lack of any indication of a threat. She ran a professional operation, after all. To get Ryuko there had taken some very careful breadcrumbs, after all.

Dangerous, yes. Angry, certainly - but in the moment, not a threat.

"I did. Well done, by the way. That's a trick I've never seen done before, Miss Matoi."

B

[drivesadesk]

When Jonathan arrives, he's wary. He doesn't know much about the Prime Minister, though what he does know is enough to make him willing to meet. After all, he knows she's an enemy of the White Tower, the government he'd betrayed that wanted his head. He knows the Northwestern Imperium is running their territory in a far more just and equitable way than the White Tower.

But that doesn't mean he trusts them. They're still a ruling body made up of imPorts, reining over a land that isn't theirs, after all. They're still likely playing their own games, making their own bids for power. And, even if they do plan to help him in his own goals, he'll likely be nothing more than a pawn in their eyes to help them reach their own.

But he can understand the value in an ally, and they're far less insidious than the opposition. He can always adjust his plans if they become a problem later.

After all, he can't take down the White Tower by himself.

He walks into the room, his eyes in their natural Reptilian state, his slit pupils narrowing in on her.

"You wanted to meet with me?"

[iceheart_imperial]

Well that was a new detail, those eyes. She regarded it with mild curiosity.

"Given the lengths I went to in order to arrange this surreptitious meeting, I would say so. Please," she gestures to the seat opposite, "have a seat."

[drivesadesk]

He takes a seat. Of course, meetings like this with people in positions of authority and power always make him nervous. He always feels like things could go south at any moment and end with them ordering his death. Likely because he's had, throughout his life, several authority figures that were in a position to have him killed if he displeased them.

He really needs to stop working or 'working' for those sorts.

"So what did you want?"

A - Diplomatic Reception

[fridgeflower]

Laurie herself has opted to dress in red, not indicative of much, but intended to stand out a bit. Not too much, of course. It's always possible to catch the wrong sets of eyes, to rouse the wrong suspicions, and she's definitely dabbling where she almost certainly shouldn't.

She's already here, though, so she might as well follow through and feel things out. She lingers on the edge of things for a time, but spots her desired conversation partner and heads in, grabbing a new glass of champagne on the way.

"Ms. Poirier," she starts, offering her hand. "I'm Laurie Collins, a representative of Krakoa's Council of Five. The Council regrets their inability to make the trip themselves, but... I hope you'll find me an acceptable substitute."

[iceheart_imperial]

These days, there's a lot of that going around. Things were moving, and things were changing - the game was very definitely afoot. What that meant, even she had no idea. But there were possibilities.

She incline her head in greeting, taking and shaking the hand gently. "Miss Collins, I'm certain you'll be a superb representative of their interests. I certainly wouldn't expect the Council to all make the journey. Any representative is an honor, of course."

[fridgeflower]

"Honor may be a bit more than I deserve as a description, but... I'm certainly happy to be welcomed."

She folds herself primly into the polite space between them, taking a quick sip from her champagne flute and smiling breezily. Though it's delivered with an air of sly sociability, she's got a genuine question. "Since we're at a party, more or less, do we assume that it's not the time or place for business discussions?"

Does she have to make an appointment? Offer her own?

A

[forcechanic]

She's never been a fan of these sort of events. Oh, she's attended them, looked cute for the cameras and then happily left with Winter, but she's never really liked them.

After a year in this strange world she's almost finding them... comforting? At least they're familiar territory. Right down to making sure she's wearing a dress she can move in if fighting breaks out.

"Any promising arrivals?"

[iceheart_imperial]

She's god wisdom well beyond her years, with choices like that. It was one of her many reasons for taking the young woman under her wing.

One of the better, less pressing ones, certainly.

"No, not yet," she replied, with a sigh. "But at least three spies. See if you can spot them."

It was a gentle sort of test. Especially as there were actually four, which was what she was hoping she'd caught.

[forcechanic]

"The man in the blue tie is so bad at it that he must be a decoy. For the woman in the green and black dress, I think."

She looks the crowd over, considering. "The woman with black pearls in her hair is watching us. The gentleman with the cravat is up to something, but he seems to be watching the first pair, not us."

B

[dun_moch]

"Of course. I would not keep you waiting, Madame Prime Minister."

The man who enters her office carries himself with a tall and regal bearing despite his advanced years, and his deep voice swells with power as he strides forward, cape swishing a bit behind him. He halts, and bows formally from his waist, one hand across his stomach.

"Count Dooku brings you greetings from the White Tower. My thanks for your making the time to receive me today."

[iceheart_imperial]

She stands in turn, wondering if the improper title is a deliberate move. With one like him, it's hard to say. It could be a subtle game, or just a slight taunt. Or intended to make one think his mind was slipping in his age. The latter would be a very foolish conclusion indeed.

She returned the bow, gesturing to the bar globe. "Can I get you something to drink? I have some excellent pre-fall brandy. And you must be fatigued after your long journey."

And thus, the dance began.

[dun_moch]

There's a brief pause while Dooku mentally calculates the political benefit of accepting the offered drink versus the offense given if he declines versus the risk of it being poisoned, cursed, or laced with tracking nanites (all three at once are possible in the Fractured World). Then he gives a soft smile, and nods.

"I would be delighted to try your refreshments. I cannot complain about the journey, thankfully. Our transports are both swift and comfortable."

Dooku is confident that it betrays nothing of the Tower's capabilities to quietly flex how advanced their transports are, to make a trip across the continent no tiring matter. And if it inspires more respect of what their military tech may be capable of, so much the better.

B

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh's excursions into the imperium always feel slightly odd. Not due to feeling unfamiliar or unwelcome. Quite the opposite. She knew some things about this place that, she hoped, no one would guess she could know. It meant having to feign extra levels of ignorance than she normally would about another faction.

She strides in, wearing her travel-worn look as confidently as ever. She is clutching a tattered envelope, thick with paper.

As soon as her eyes fall on Ysanne, the foggy memory of a days-old dream resurfaces. It involved the kinds of acts you don't mention to a professional acquaintance, no matter how friendly. She hadn't questioned it too much, chalking up the realistic feeling to what she'd eaten that night. Bolstered by it, she smiles. "Good day, Poirier. How have you been, since we last met?"

[iceheart_imperial]

Her eyes lift and dart away for a moment, clearing her throat, covered by the act of finishing a signature with a flourish. She, too, had enjoyed...well, similar thoughts. Some of the most vibrant, realistic dreams she'd ever had. It takes her a moment before she can look at the woman properly.

Good God, she barely knew her.

"Miss Quryoja. Back from another adventure, I see. And as for me, well, this is the last of today's stack of paperwork. It hounds me, you see."

[eightfoldlight]

"Ah, paperwork. My dreaded archnemesis."

Yenh carefully lays the envelope down behind the bank of photographs, her smile twisting into a lopsided grin. "I'd rather not unleash another hound upon you. I'm certain you can 'find' these reports when you come in tomorrow morning."

A

[ct_7567]

[ Rex was sent into this place to feel things out. He scarcely stands out in the crowd, however; he's in a plain, drab suit, able to fade into the background with so many of the other of the low-ranking diplomats. If he's spotted, then he says that he's a lower-ranking diplomat from Eden, sent here in lieu of their top ranking officials while they're indisposed. If he's not... well, then that's all the better, and he's a fly on the wall. But Poirier and her people could be an asset to Eden, both operating underneath the ethos of bringing White Tower down. Perhaps they would be enemies later, but everyone needs as much firepower as they can muster, and if a few alliances need to be forged to make that happen, then that's a deal they can make.

Poirier likely spots him lingering by the side of the wall, often trading remarks with other low-ranking diplomats, though his steady eyes follow her the whole time, tracking who she's speaking with, what she looks like while she is. It would take a trained eye to notice such things, but Poirier is nothing if not that. ]

[iceheart_imperial]

[It's easy enough to spot. She'd been paranoid by nature ever since beginning her own, private war against the Tower years before. Now, at the helm of a state, she's all the more cautious and aware. Especially as, sooner or later, somebody is going to try to kill her. The trick is to get to a point where you've shoved events in the direction you believe they have to go before they succeed.]

[And just for his benefit, she winds an unnecessarily convoluted and torturous path through people, doubling back more than a few times - and entirely at random. If he does make something sensible out of that, it'll be so far down the wrong track as to be patently obvious. Call it her little price exacted for the attempt.]

[It simply wouldn't do to let people think such is just tolerated, after all. Nor to let them think she's so unaware. Ultimately, she leaves the room entirely, and in a minute or two thereafter, an attendant will approach him, asking for a moment of his time. He will then be led to a side room, in which she sits, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap.]

You know, those pretending to be admirers are never so aloof, and the spies usually give themselves away by not looking. Third categories are rather rare, so: how can I help you?

[ct_7567]

The third category is that I'm here to see how things have been proceeding with a prospective ally, but I'm not of a high enough rank to make any deals with you directly, [ Rex says bluntly. He'd half-suspected he'd be caught out - he's not making a huge effort to remain hidden; if he was, he wouldn't have blatantly attended this ceremony. He wonders if this is for the best, in fact, this private audience. He may not be of the rank of the leaders of Eden, nor his boss, but he can act in their stead without making any promises. He stands formally at attention, hands tucked neatly behind his back, stance wide and shoulders square as he looks down at her upon her throne. ]

It's beneficial to us to see who shows up, and who seeks out your audience. If we are considering an allyship, we must know who else is interested in the same.

[ It's not only her he's watching. No matter how circuitous her path, he can take notes on who takes pains to approach her. ]

Does that meet your satisfaction?

C

[bifroster]

Isard would notice some commotion within the networks of White Tower: rumors that someone high in the ranks had defected. Rumors that the High Chancellor had tried to apprehend them, but they had managed to escape. Rumors that Mjolnir was missing instead of being on display at the headquarters of White Tower.

Jane would have nothing on her, save what was in her pockets. It left her unprepared, but hopefully, the flash drives and notebook she was carrying would be enough. It was easy to get the project files, even if she couldn’t destroy the servers at White Tower. If only she could have gotten to the servers and permanently deleted those files so they couldn’t be used by anyone else. But this might give someone a head start to make better defenses against her creations.

She just hoped no one else could guess her passwords.

And she hoped that this boat would get her somewhere safe—somewhere she could make up for the horrible actions she had committed in the name of science. She could not believe that she had put people in danger and actually caused death and untold destruction in the search for answers. What had she been thinking? What had this world done to her?!

No amount of apologies would make up for what she had done.

Stepping off of the boat, she wrapped her coat around herself tightly too.

“Hello,” she greeted. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

[iceheart_imperial]

The rumors were pleasing, but not actionable. She couldn't verify much - but this...this definitely did it. Her hands balled into fists. She could not know for sure which of the Tower's leadership had done it - but one of them had ruined her life, once. And for a very long moment, she has to fight the instinct to summon an ice spike and just start stabbing.

Logic wins, inevitably, as Jane approaches. Her face resumes its careful neutrality. A public, messy defection will do more damage to the Tower than harming her ever would.

"Miss Foster. This...this is a surprise. I was expecting one of my contacts."