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.
no subject
She played a game with herself, trying to guess his. France and Austria, she decided - orchestrating Central Europe to their pleasure. With him playing the role of France. Something akin to a partnership, but never one meant to really aid the other.
"Cooperation seems the most sensible course."
no subject
Dooku shakes his head in disapproval. His vision of imPort power is far grander.
"I have no formal treaty to propose at this time. This is more of a... preliminary discussion, let us say," he continues, gesturing laxly with one hand to indicate a casual air. "Regarding areas we might find common ground. An extradition arrangement, for instance, seems a sensible first step."
A step that might help shrink the ground that the Resistance currently has for running to.
no subject
"Of course," she replied, with a nod. She let him continue, preparing happily to shoot it down.
"I'm afraid that will be quite impossible - Parliament is dead set against the idea, you see."
It gave her actual joy to say it. She'd raised up a Parliament - an inevitable argument against imPort supremacy - and of course it had immediately turned around with its new-found legislative power and tried to bite the hand that fed them. It was exactly what she'd always wanted from them. Every day they existed, every time they presented a law to an imPort Director-General and an imPort Emperor, they chipped away at it.
"They argue that, given the non-existence of functional democracy, anyone extradited wouldn't receive a fair trial, making such a move unethical. I mean, I would be prepare to take the Tower's word of course," not even an inch, "but there are also concerns in the body about the penalties levied on any extradited person."
She paused, laying out her next card almost entirely for her own satisfaction.
"I'm afraid without some policy changes from the Tower first, I can't see that being an initiative that succeeds."
An intrinsic challenge to their notions of supremacy, a subtle demand that they adapt to others...yes, and without a note of open hostility to clutch onto as a pretext, either.
no subject
The Count frowns slightly, folding his hands in front of him with a pensive air. The concept of a legislature that actually confines executive authority strikes him as absurd. He sits in the Tower's own Parliament, of course, but no one would suggest that the High Chancellor couldn't do something because of that body's votes.
"I am afraid that the policies of the Tower are not answerable to the Parliament of the Northwest Imperium," he says dryly. "Although it seems that they can override the will of the Director-General- and perhaps even of the Emperor himself? They must be a powerful assembly indeed."
A soft probe, to see where the true power may lie or appear to lie within this faction.
no subject
"The Emperor values a loyal representative body. Thus, he can speak for the people with their true voice."
A bit trite, but true enough - he's been the most reasonable Emperor anyone was likely to expect. Recent events notwithstanding, as she now has far less of an idea where she stands with him.
"One day they'll make my office obsolete," she adds, with a chipper note to her voice. And just a touch of her own voice power - a note of persuasion. It likely won't work on one such as him, but it will likely enhance her sincerity.
"There'll be an elected Prime Minister in a few years, mark my words. And I will be quite happy to retire to my estate."
no subject
They will be particularly improved if she happens to leave office before retirement, he thinks. If any regime among the Factions needs to be adjusted, it's this one. The Count saw plenty of democracy in action during the days of the Republic, and came to be disgusted by it.
"Although in your position, I might be hesitant," he adds, eyeing her over the rim of his glass. "You have worked very hard to raise this Imperium. Who is to say that whoever comes after you will preserve all you have built?"
A fine argument for holding on to power as long as possible, in Dooku's book. If one's edicts are truly important, surrendering authority risks their deeds undone by a foolish successor.
no subject
"All politics is risk, Count," she replied, swirling her drink. "It's just a matter of choosing which sort. Any system you have to hold on to in order to guarantee its continued existence will fail completely the moment that firm hand is removed, which historically it always is."
She was fairly certain he wouldn't much care for any of that.
"To my mind, the best achievement is to create a system that has an evolutionary character."
no subject
"Evolution is an unpredictable process," he muses with an idle air. "Filled with extinction and dead ends. But I, for one, hope that the Imperium evolves into something strong and enduring. Cooperation with the Tower will be an asset in that growth - perhaps in trade, if not in extradition."
He would be happy to have a hand in shaping it towards that end. But Poirier will not be present for it, he thinks. He already thinks he has her measure: too invested in dangerous ideas, too fatally trusting of the people around and beneath her. People like that always meet their downfall, in Dooku's experience. Sometimes it isn't even through Dooku's own hand.
no subject
She nodded at the latter thought.
"There, at least, I have more promising news: there's more surpluses on many of our production lines and foodstuffs this year, so there are more opportunities than ever."
no subject
As Ysanne doubtless knows, accepting communications tech from the Tower carries certain risks. Spyware being least among them.
no subject
"We're quite well off for that, and in any event, our systems would likely not be compatible." As she's sure the Tower's electronic spies have found out, to their frustration. Magitech being such a gleefully analogue sort of technology.
"Bullion would, of course, always be acceptable - as would other commodities. Fuel oil, rare earth metals, gemstones - that sort of thing."