Ysanne Isard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iceheart_imperial) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
f20202020-09-09 06:29 pm
iceheart_imperial) wrote in f20202020-09-09 06:29 pm
I - Truths and Lies [Mostly Open]
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.
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.