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

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."

[iceheart_imperial]

She leaned her head on her hand, sighing.

"You are a foul temptress, you know that?" She smiled a bit, eyes flicking up to meet Yenh's. "Because the things you bring are bound to be interesting. Filled with strange details I wouldn't get otherwise."

She puts down her pen after a moment, putting it aside.

"But, I suppose I can wait until tomorrow. Let some anticipation build, hmm?"

She smiled, leaning back.

"Let's have a drink, hmm? And I can pretend I'm not a stateswoman, for a little while."

[eightfoldlight]

"I don't see why not," she says. The explicit imagery playing through her mind turns from funny to awkward. Yenh tries to stop entertaining them, and is unsuccessful.

"Here in your office? I'll be happy to pour for you." She glances around the room for the sorts of places where the powerful tend to keep their drinks: close at hand and arranged or concealed in a tasteful way.

[iceheart_imperial]

"The globe," she said, lazily pointing. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, leaning back in her chair.

And tried, with only the most fleeting of success, to not watch the woman move.

[eightfoldlight]

Pouring their drinks assures those deep old wounds that she isn't about to be poisoned. Not that she has any reason to believe Ysanne would do such a thing, but logic isn't that feeling's driver.

She pops the globe open with a pleased 'ahh,' because she enjoys secret compartments. It's a clever one. Taking her time, she turns over two glasses, opens the bottle, and tips a fairly equal and modest measure of liquid into each.

Yenh passes a glass to Ysanne and takes the empty seat. "I hope that's enough to properly honor the day's hound-wrangling."

[iceheart_imperial]

"You chose some good scotch," she said, with a fond note to her voice, "I think it will elegantly suffice."

She took the drink happily, turning a bit in her chair as she took her first sip, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling and taste before swallowing.

"So, back in the Imperium already. Clearly the food must agree with you."

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh takes her sip at the same time, eyes open and trained on Ysanne. She doesn't know the difference between good or bad scotch. Both scorch her tongue and throat nearly the same. She swallows it and hums approvingly.

"The food is good," she agrees. "And with the Synod coming up, now is as good a time as any to finish lingering tasks and errands."

[iceheart_imperial]

"I don't usually drink during the day," she said with a sigh, "but as you said, with the Synod coming up...there's more stress than usual."

She managed a smile.

"I get to put on a show of being the determined Prime Minister, representative of the Glorious Empire and its great Emperor. Between you and me, I can't stand a moment of it. I wasn't meant to do such things."

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh hides her disdain for the talk about glory and greatness within another sip of scotch. This empire is objectively less terrible—that wasn't the issue. It's the hollowness and secrecy that bother her.

"Mm, it seems like a lot," she agrees. "But the best leaders are those who don't love power. They're less likely to believe they have all the answers."

[iceheart_imperial]

"Then I must be doing at least somewhat well, because most days I don't feel I've any answers at all." She gestured at the portrait of the old man. "I always wonder if he did. He unified thirty-six states, and created a strong nation where before there had only been infighting and chaos. A constitutional monarchy, too, not just a dictatorship under his boot heel. But I do wonder. Was he sure of every step? Or just being as clever as he could with the moments history handed him? Or both at once, maybe?"

She swirled the liquid slowly, eyes focusing in the far distance. The easier not to focus on the other woman, who was proving quite distracting. Focus.

"I'm not sure some days how I wound up here. I'm certain I was never meant for this. Piles of paperwork, lives depending on the simplest decisions. Diplomacy to carry out, and above all showing a face of complete confidence - so the millions of citizens of the Imperium can sleep without anxiety. I envy you your freedom of action."

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh listens. It's the same flavor of musing she's heard from Ser Aymeric and General Raubahn and a number of other influential people. No matter the wording, it's always a potent reminder of that very thing at the end Ysanne invokes.

"I don't blame you. I love what I do." She smiles as she says it. "But don't think all the grass is greener. I have responsibilities, too."

[iceheart_imperial]

"I know, though I have little idea what they are."

That smile is...intoxicating. Free, wild. Her cheeks redden, just a little.

"In fact, you are quite the mystery."

[eightfoldlight]

"Truly? You've read the summaries, but I could always arrange to have copies made of my whole archive," Yenh begins, then rethinks Ysanne's meaning. There are a few different ways to interpret it, and Yenh only likes a couple of them.

She tilts her head. "Or do you mean something else?"

[iceheart_imperial]

"I can mean multiple things," she says, with faux defensiveness, hiding her smile behind a sip of her drink. Which, by itself, might go some way to alleviating any potential worries.

"I miss it. The freedom. Fewer, but more immediate responsibilities. Adventure. And you are very interesting, which I think is obvious."

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh is set at ease enough to offer a playful smile in return. The guard hardly drops for anyone these days, but she is inclined to accept Ysanne's words as an expression of earnest longing.

"Obvious? Oh, I don't know. I'm a wanderer who's good with magic and forgets how to be afraid of death. Maybe that's interesting," Yenh begins, completely aware of herself as she leans forward against her forearms. Raising her eyebrows, she prompts Ysanne, "But let's say the emperor offered you six months of leave. What would you do with that time?"

[iceheart_imperial]

"Music," she replies, almost before the question is done, and without a moment's hesitation.

"Six months without consequence? Music. I'd dedicate myself to it again. Dust off my violin, re-tune my voice as it once was. Maybe see if time has acted on it like a fine wine."

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh raises her eyebrows, but her surprise quickly gives way again to that pleasant warmth.

"I hadn't expected any particular answer, but I have to say I wouldn't have guessed that. Vocals and violins," Yenh muses, taking a quick sip. "A famous fact, even on our homeworld, is that your emperor is a lover of the arts. If you wanted time for practice in your schedule, I imagine he would consider the request."

[iceheart_imperial]

"I am chained to this desk by forces of much greater power than him," she replied, a bit sadly.

"But I was a singer once. Headlined at a nightclub, as it happens. Every single night." A smile spread across her face. "I'm French, you see...well, not by birth, perhaps, but I am regardless...we had an appreciation of such things, where I come from."

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh nods, imagining a younger Ysanne singing to some dark and romantic pre-revolt club. It's easy to imagine it. Strangely so. She can't actually recall where or how she would have seen such a sight. In a movie, that much she's sure about, but she's had little time to indulge in Earth's old media over the last eight years. She could have sworn none of the movies she's seen took place in France.

"The desk doesn't stop you from singing a few bars at your leisure, I should hope," she quips as she takes another sip.

[iceheart_imperial]

"I do try, but it's not the same as it was," she said, with a fond smile. "The low lights, me in a black dress, just a microphone in front of me. My God, I felt naked in front of an audience - just me, and my voice, and them out there, unseen."

Her eyes were a little misty, lost in the past.

"Because here, all these other things intrude on my mind. Then, it was just me and the song. Mmm." She shook her head. "And oh I was good. I could sing Piaf that would bring men who had lived in Paris their whole lives to tears." She grinned.

"But then again, there will never be another Piaf. Nor an Aznavour. Nothing melts a French heart like them."

One of the few things that survived from that time was her pride at being French. At the culture. The heritage she had been adopted so lovingly into.

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh listens well, nodding along even to the references she doesn't explicitly know. There are a number imPorts who can speak first-hand of the old world, but only a handful who have lived on Earth for so long that they're closer to the locals than the imPorts, like Ysanne. It's a perspective she values.

"If I may be bold... Why are you here? There's still some France left out there."

[iceheart_imperial]

Unconsciously, her hand pulled out a pocket watch from her waistcoat, turning it over.

"There are debts to be paid," she said, finally, after a long, distracted moment. "And such important things to do. Then...then I'd go home. If I make it that far."

Which she gravely doubts.

[eightfoldlight]

A pregnant pause if there ever was one. Yenh exhales, her voice going quiet. "It's always something like that, isn't it?"

She considers the countless people she's met, who confided similar sentiments. She doesn't know Ysanne that well, but she knows the shape of the story. An otherwise normal person, caught up by a pivotal moment or a chain reaction of events...

"May I ask what happened?"