Difference between revisions of "3515/High Society"

Latest revision as of 00:45, 13 December 2015

The Lady (913) has posed:
The strange, crystalline jungle that's taken over part of the multiverse is an alien landscape of smooth, planar stone that gleams in the sun; when the angle is right, the glare is blinding.

Curiously, an army appears to have set up shop in the middle of this sun-bleached, diamond-glare plain. A very large army, several thousand strong. A very large army, several thousand strong, with some very, very powerful sorcerors in their midst.

Striding amongst the soldiers is a particularly elegant and well-dressed woman, wearing a dress of red and gold brocade, a white lace tricorne trailing ostrich feathers and a net of pearls to contain straight, dark hair black and glossy as a raven's wing. But it's her eyes that captivate the most in the midst of her pale and fine-featured face; chips of ice, cold and implacable as the crystal on which her armies march, for it's clear she's the one in command here. Men are by turns deferential or uncomfortablea round her, and she has a clear aura of confidence that simply doesn't compare to any of the people that surround her.

A single mortal man trails behind her, clad in black uniform, slightly balding, lugging a large leather-bound tome and a few tattered quills. she's talking to him in a low voice as she goes, but it's...

...not war machinery or soldiers she's headed to. Instead, it's a very plain-looking object, a wooden frame about a foot high, spread with textile nailed into place. She climbs aboard, beckoning in an obvious 'hurry-up' gesture for the man to clamber aboard behind her.

The frame-like thing rises from the ground, as the Lady crouches over it, expression one of total concentration, and peels a short distance away from the camp, to a crystalline overlook where a small table has been set up. A tea service, actually. The mortal man looks baffled as he clambers off the carpet, a little shaky but otherwise unharmed; she vaults down like a seasoned veteran, and seats herself elegantly at the table. A brief look is cast to the man; he takes a seat on a nearby chair of his own, plopping the tome open in his lap, shaking out his hand, and writing.

The Lady, meanwhile, folds her hands primly in her lap and waits.

A summons had been sent to the former Wizard of the Confederacy, suggesting the Lady had business to discuss with him, and a request to join her for tea; coordinates had been provided, although they would probably prove unnecessary.

Loros (303) has posed:
In truth, The Lady's invitation had been a welcome diversion, the Wizard having buried himself in a mountain of paperwork and research. It's fortunate that the invitation was seen at all in the storm of paper and ink.

Moments after the Lady and the mortal have seated themselves, deep inside one of the nearby crystals is a sudden flash of light. Refracted and brilliant, it passes in only a moment.

Leaving Loros standing beside the crystal, holding a ball of crystal in one hand that containts the faintest echo of that bright flash. Dressed in his usual black and purple, he is a touch more rumpled than usual, and sans his hat.

Looking around, he spots the pair and bows with a tired smile.

"Lady." Rising, he makes his wait to the table, taking the remaining seat with a faint sigh.

The Lady (913) has posed:
The Lady notices immediately when something flickers in a nearby crystal, and while it causes Croaker to jump, she offers no reaction beyond to stare deliberately at the disturbance. No doubt there are Taken nearby; capable as she is, even the Lady is not so foolish as to travel unchaperoned.

Instead, she delicately pours herself tea into her cup, languidly, as she waits for her guest to arrive. Croaker seems too busy writing to pay attention, but it may be that his writings are a welcome diversion from pestering the big kids that could eat him for breakfast. Or reminding them that he exists.

"I had wondered, briefly, if you would come." The Lady busies herself with pouring a little cream into her own cup, and a sharp eye might notice that even when she withdraws her hand to fold it back onto her lap, the spoon in it continues stirring. "It seems everyone is absorbed in their own projects, these days."

Loros (303) has posed:
"True - although the project I have been putting my time into of late may help break people out of that grip."

Croaker is glanced at breifly, smirked over, and then left be. The self stirring tea draws out a slightly raised eyebrow as Loros sits up from his slight slouch and reaches forth to pour himself his own cup of tea. Which he leaves black.

"In fact, once I have things organized to the point where I am ready to share details, you will probably be one of the first I approach."

The Lady (913) has posed:
"Oh? Is that so?" The Lady arches a delicate brow, studying Loros with the kind of veiled interest one might expect of a cat disguising its true intentions. "Fascinating."

When glanced at, Croaker goes a few shades paler than bleach, mutters something very quietly under his breath, and writes a little faster. It may be to disguise the sudden case of the shakes his hands are displaying.

"Among the first? I am flattered, Wizard. Pray tell what I have done to earn such high honour." It's hard to say whether her words are meant to be mocking or taken straight; there's a very faint air of amusement about her. "There is yet unresolved business I must see to before I can devote my efforts more completely to other projects, but perhaps I can see that some time is made free, all the same. What do you have in mind?"

Loros (303) has posed:
Sipping at his tea allows Loros to hide his smile at Croaker's tightly controlled panic - after all, he doesn't want to interfere with the man's ability to do his job. Lowering the cup again, he gestures carefully with it in the general direction of the soldiers gathered about.

"I've been working with the Universities, Colleges and Secret Societies of Afterus - the world the Syndicate more or less calls home. Long ago - a -very- long time ago, really - I was something of... well. An explorer. An adventurer. And a few other things. But what I suspect the Mutliverse needs is people who can be pointed at places and things of interest and told 'Go find things out, and come back and tell us about them. So that we can name them, brag about getting there first to the other people of power, and possibly steal the recovered artifact from the museum later for our personal use'."

Rolling his shoulders in a languid shrug, he adds, "With more rules and formal language of course. But for this to work, we shall need... Patrons. And in return, you could send ally and enemy alike, traipsing into tasks where you cannot trust or spare other agents."

The Lady (913) has posed:
The Lady thoroughly ignores whatever discomfiture her Annalist might be experiencing, either because it's beneath her notice, or because she's doing him the favour of consciously ignoring it. It's hard to say.

At his explanation, the Lady's head tilts and those winter-ice eyes hood, ever so slightly, as though a cat faced with something interesting placed before its nose. Such establishments are not unknown even in her own Empire, although such things are generally restricted to the highest, and richest, of nobility.

"Oh?" While the idea of exploring or bragging rights doesn't interest her very much, the idea of material gain does. Specifically, the idea of finding ancient, potentially powerful things floating around the seedy underbelly of the multiverse, forgotten by time and mortal memory alike.

One hand rises, a delicate forefinger laying along an equally delicate jawline in thought. "Most interesting. Yes, I believe I could find the time for such an endeavour." She raises a brow. "So. I presume such a thing would be headquartered in this 'Afterus' you've spoken of."

Loros (303) has posed:
"Yet another detail I seek to 'nail down', as it were. Ideally, yes. Somewhere not claimed by any of the major factions, but... policically inconvenient to force to whims."

The faint smile becomes something colder and tighter. "Because I have seen these sorts of Societies become tools in the Great Game. I should like to postpone that until I have had -my- fun with it at least. Of course, given my own reputation..."

He spreads his hands wide. "Hence the need for patronage. I cannot be the only one setting forth the tasks and goals. People would make assumptions."

The Lady (913) has posed:
"I think I begin to understand." Between statements, the Lady drains her teacup, although not so quickly as to seem hurried. She is never hurried. One does not rule half the known world and play heads-up power games with the Dominator and give the impression of marching to anything but their own beat, after all. "So. You wish to have your fun with it before it is twisted and corrupted beyond all resemblance to its original premise. I suppose I can understand that."

She sets her empty cup down, thoughtful. "There are reasons for which would support such a venture, myself. I shall certainly consider it, Wizard." Oh, the artifacts she could get her hands on. Maybe something to keep the Dominator in his grave for good, even. "Thank you for the information. I am intrigued by this, and--"

Before she can say anything else, her eyes slip out of focus, and she seems to retreat within herself for several moments. Croaker glances up, squinting at her for a second or two, before shrugging at Loros. "Happens sometimes," he mumbles from behind his tome. "You get used to it eventually."

The Lady seems to return half a second later, and something in her demeanour is a little more chilly.

"Most excellent, Wizard. However, you will have to pardon me. I have matters I must tend to myself that are most pressing. It has been a pleasure." With a smile and a respectful inclination of her head, she abruptly rises, leaving her empty teacup and beckoning to Croaker. With a resigned -thud- of pages shutting, he hefts his tome and his quill, hop-stepping after the Lady and onto the carpet.

In seconds the thing has lifted off and whisked back toward the camps among the crystal forest.

Loros (303) has posed:
Loros chuckles softly to himself as the Lady swiftly departs. "And that would be why I retired."

Shaking his head, he finishes his cup of tea. A flask is produced out of a pocket, and the remaining contents of the pot are poured inside. That last task finished, the Wizard draws forth his crystal once more and vanishes from sight.