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

[iceheart_imperial]

She toasted in return, but added with a wry smile.

"...So long as it's not a Huxley-shaped one."

[eightfoldlight]

"What's a Huxley?" she asks, perfectly earnest as she sips her drink.

[iceheart_imperial]

"An author. He wrote a book called 'Brave New World', wherein society was controlled by high technology. I'll leave any comparison to current entities unsaid."

[eightfoldlight]

"Oh," she says, and decides it really is best to leave parallels and comparisons unsaid. "I just like the phrase," Yenh admits. "I haven't read too many Earth books."

[iceheart_imperial]

"Worth your time, if you can ever bring yourself from your missions long enough to make a study of it - it's an endlessly creative planet. Less so, in the last few decades, but."

She shrugs.

"We do what we can. And what we have to."

[eightfoldlight]

"If I live to see my retirement, reading will be as good a way to pass that by as any," Yenh says, barely joking. She fishes a tiny pencil and an equally tiny, tattered notepad from a pocket in her jacket. She jots down the name and author of the book.

[iceheart_imperial]

She regards the notepad curiously.

"All the things you want to do?" she said, pointing at it.

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh snorts, and gives Ysanne a good-natured smile. "And incriminate myself? No, these are things I need to remember," she corrects. Thumbing back a few pages, she announces, "Did you know that Jeopardy's spider cookies are made with cricket flour?"

[iceheart_imperial]

"I didn't know they made cookies at all," she replied, curiously.

"But if you're going to write down anybody...Victor Hugo. French, of course." Said with a very slight grin.

"What other treasures do you have in there to share?"

[eightfoldlight]

"They're very good. Popular when I bring them back to Glimmershire," Yenh offers brightly. She pages back to jot down Victor Hugo's name, and then shuffles through the notepad again.

"There's a man in Orleans who makes incredible coats, as beautiful as they are sturdy. It could survive a tumble down the mountain without so much as scuffing the fancy trim," Yenh says. "I wrote down his name and shop address so I could get a gift for, uh, a friend."

[iceheart_imperial]

Ah, that one landed on her desk like a metaphorical dead fish.

"Ah, yes. Your...friend will undoubtedly appreciate it. Finery from far places, and all. And New Orleans is well-known for it's cultural prowess."

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh glances up at Ysanne. The woman's tone says it all. She knows, she realizes with a stab of horror. Her face flushes and she hastily flips through the pages again.

"Oh, look— directions to a secret hotspring in Idaho," she says a little too loud and too quickly.

[iceheart_imperial]

Frankly, it's better than the alternatives might be. Emperors, as a general rule, tended to be rather...profligate in such matters. Which would just be an endless headache, to say nothing else. Besides which, she cerainly can't object to his tastes in ths particular matter...

"Finally, a reason for Idaho to continue being a thing," she replied, friendly enough.

[eightfoldlight]

On some level, she knew Ysanne knew. It would make sense for his second-in-command to have figured it out, especially since Emet-Selch's personal guards definitely knew. It doesn't leave her comforted that yet another person aware of it. Whether looking at it through the lens of current politics or through Hydaelyn's entire 10,000+ year history, Emet-Selch is near the very bottom of the list of people with whom she should be intimate.

"I do like their potatoes," Yenh offers as an additional point of proof of Idaho's worthiness, and in a bid to flee further from her shame.

[iceheart_imperial]

And she can see it bothering her, but hasn't much of a clue what to do. To leave it unaddressed seems...cruel. To say something seems indelicate. So she's silent as she contemplates what to do next, speaking only slowly.

"They are...not to everyone's taste," she said, carefully, hoping her point got across. "Some disagree with them quite vehemently, I'm told. But nobody should be feel shame for enjoying them, don't you agree?"

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh stares at her with a blank look that, after a few seconds, reflects her understanding. Ysanne isn't actually talking about potatoes. She sighs, gulping down a fortifying hit of alcohol with a wince.

"There are those poisonous green potatoes," she says. "No one is particularly fond of being served those."

[iceheart_imperial]

"I suspect it is much like those poisonous fish, that need to be prepared just so in order to avoid the effects. And yet, some seek it out. To each their own, I say."

She has no idea what would attract her to Emet-Selch. Perhaps it's as simple as the power - nobody is entirely immune to that calling. Or it could be other things - the Emperor has secrets even she does not know.

But she won't judge. It is not her life, after all. And also not her place to flirt - she reminds herself - given the circumstances.

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh shifts uncomfortably back and forth in her seat as she debates whether she should let this subject go or embrace the chance to chase some manner of validation. She makes her decision and just as abruptly rises and, without explaining, reaches up under her cloak to unbutton her shirt.

"I'd like to try something," she says. It isn't an impromptu striptease, though she does undo several more buttons than strictly necessary, because Emet-Selch is many things, and jealous is not one of them. She reaches her hand under her shirt and draws out a small, orange glowing crystal, dangling from a sturdy necklace chain. The flat front is engraved with a symbol not unlike the 'dot within a circle' Earth uses to indicate the sun.

Yenh dangles the chain along her fingertips and approaches the desk. "This is an Ascian memory crystal," she explains. "I want to find out if you can hear any of the stories contained within. Take it in your hand and focus on listening, if you would?"

[iceheart_imperial]

For more than a few moments, she wishes it is. The suddenness, the boldness...they are truly something. There is a very definite surge of arousal through her form before it is chained and pulled back by the sudden shift of events.

Working to keep her breathing under control, she stands, nodding. There are many mysteries to the world, more still to the untold worlds imports come from.

She took the crystal in her hand, looking to Yenh to make sure she was doing it right. "Like...this?" she said, before closing her eyes and trying very hard to listen.

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh leans in close. More than she needs to, strictly speaking.

"Like that," Yenh says as another voice fills Ysanne's mind. It is a man's deep tone, inhuman and speaking a language whose words ring and thrum like a choir of bells.

Herein I commit the chronicle of the traveler. Shepherd to the stars in the dark. Though the world be sundered and our souls set adrift, where you walk, my dearest friend, fate shall surely follow.

"Do you hear it?" she asks as she watches Ysanne's face.

[iceheart_imperial]

She gasped, taking a half step back but stopping herself, pushing back in, closing the range again.

Fascination drove her. "I hear it...a man's voice..."

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh smiles, pleased. "That was recorded over ten thousand years ago," she explains. And as the crystal continues speaking, she speaks along with it, her more mundane raspy tone offsetting the musical quality of Emet-Selch's true voice. "For yours is the Fourteenth seat—the seat of Azem. You who defected to seek a third answer—beyond Zodiark's loving Darkness and Hydaelyn's enervating Light. You who never gave up, even as the Goddess shattered our beloved world..."

She tilts her head, realizing she is close enough to smell the alcohol on Ysanne's breath, followed by her other scents. Her hand reaches up to cup Ysanne's cheek, tilting her head up to meet her eyes. She doesn't know why, but it doesn't feel wrong. "There's a story in here of a time Azem saved an island from a volcano. Because they liked the grapes that grew there," Yenh says, voice soft. "I think Azem would have also liked Idaho potatoes. They liked a lot of different things."

[iceheart_imperial]

And she finds herself leaning into that touch, swallowing heavily. It has been a long time since she wasn't in the driver's seat for these things. A very long time. She closed her eyes, listening, licking her lips with just the tiniest bit of nervousness.

"Why...why are you telling me all this? Why share such a secret with me?"

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh watches her closely, feeling spurred on by her reactions. Maybe those dreams were less a flight of fancy and more of a premonition. Her thumb traces lightly across her lips.

"Because I wanted to. There are too few people in whom I can confide, and you already knew one secret without lording it over me," Yenh answers, her gaze growing intense as she entertains those thoughts less idly. "I was Azem, many lifetimes ago. But their legacy lives on through me. I understand fighting for causes others might deem impossible or optimistic. How can we not strive to bring about a better world—for those we have lost, and those we can yet save?"

[iceheart_imperial]

She shivered, breathing significantly more heavily than she had been before. The room felt warm, oppressive; the solution, of course, seemed to be more of this.

"Keeping secrets is my job," she managed, "judgement is for foolish others. And there is no better calling for ambition - except to reshape the world to be better than it was."