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Post by Guinevere on Sept 26, 2011 15:53:25 GMT -5
Very well then. Now our next koncern. What is our next kourse of aktion.
Gideon: Before we get into that, I think you have some explaining to do Witch. Care to tell the rest of us why you didn't tell us your true intentions of going to the ball?
Whatever do you mean?
Gideon: I mean why didn't you tell us Iole was the Kingdom's heir?
I already explained it was for her own protektion. Our enemies have a habit of keeping their ears to the ground.
Gideon: Something you're all too familiar with I take it. Then explain why you chose an enviroment filled with hostiles to reveal her heritage?
That was unfortunate, but necessary. The Kount forced my hand on that one. Had I not, he would have most assuredly gotten the three signatures he was after. It worked out better than I kould have hoped. He akted just as I expekted a warlord like him to, and showed everyone present what hides behind his mask of nobility. Did you see the looks on all of their faces when he had the assassin move in? He'll be hard pressed to koax any of them into rekognizing him now. At the least, the spektakle bought us more time.
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Post by Iole on Sept 26, 2011 17:19:53 GMT -5
I want to know something.
::Guinevere swivelled in the control chair she was sitting in to face Iole::
Guinevere: Yes Princess?
::The crease in her eyebrows made it plain Iole did not appreciate the title::
How did you know? What makes you so sure I'm Doma's heir? I'm from Alexandria in the Ninth World.
Guinevere: Perhaps, but kan you be certain there aren't any immigrants in your family?
::Iole glowered at the Witch who was dangling this knowledge in her face like a carrot in front of a horse::
What do you know?
Guinevere: Tell me Little One, how well did you know your father?
::This questions was obviously an uncomfortable one for her since she took time to answer, but she needed to know if she was to understand what choice she should make next::
He died when I was seven.
Guinevere: How unfortunate. How did that happen?
It was a disease. Some rare disease that attacks the immune system and leaves your body completely defenseless against the atmosphere.
Guinevere: Interesting. Did you know that the Wutai province manufaktures a slow akting poison that produces similar symptoms? It takes so long in fakt that it kan even look like an illness. Why it kan even be passed on genetikally. Quite ingenious wouldn't you agree? And it's no sekret that the Kingdom of Doma has long had Wutai agents in their service. A Kingdom that stands for honor, bravery, and the standards of knights, and a society of warriors who dedikate themselves to a master who champions a worthy ideal. The two seem to go hand in hand.
What does any of that have to do with me?
Guinevere: Well if that perceptive little mind of yours hasn't grapsed it already, then perhaps nothing. After all if the last Prince of Doma was a little permiskuous with one of his skullery mades then what is that to you? My, my, my, how a child born out of wedlokk from its own royalty would stain the illustrious reputation of a Kingdom like Doma. So great the dishonor in fakt, I imagine that exile off-world wouldn't even be enough to ensure the shame remained hidden.
::Iole wasn't an idiot. The implications the Witch was making were clear. She clenched her fist::
Are you sure?
Guinevere: Little One, I am the Witch of Webs. There's not a sneeze that goes on in the underworld that I'm not aware of.
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Post by Oliver on Sept 26, 2011 23:17:27 GMT -5
Oliver had been aloof while the rest planned strategy and asked the important questions that needed to be answered, he was instead caught up in his fuming anger at August for what he did to Adrian. In his head he ran every horrible possibility that could of transpired. He kept rubbing his fingers over the charred cloth, feeling its stitching and burnt edges. He tapped his foot anxiously, with his back against the bulkhead. His ear perked every so often to catch the conversation, he only stirred when the discussion about what to do about Stefan - this was his time to put in his word.
"We'l i sti'l don't trust 'im. 'ow do we not know 'e ain't a spy?" He wiggled his nose and stepped forward. "If ye ask me t'is sounds a tad 'ike a certain story I 'eard once. About someone we most'y fami'iar wit. 'e earned t'e trust of a group of people, even t'ough he was part of t'e enemy - once. Got awfu'ly close to t'em too. T'en w'en the moment was rig't, 'e turned on t'em. It was a'l a ruse to get c'ose to somet'ing 'e wanted an' w'en it was obtained, s'owed t'eir true colors. T'ough t'is person in-particular 'ad noble intentions for doin' it; can we rea'ly take t'at risk again? I say we drop 'im off at t'e next port." His eyes fell in Stefan with deep suspicion. "T'ats w'at I say. Never trust aristocrats."
Then came the discussion concerning Iole, and Oliver was caught, once again off guard. This is the first time he had heard about Iole's father - but what was most curious was what Gwen had said about the poison. He never heard of a poison that could be passed genetically, that didn't make sense. Though he learned never to trust a word she said until proven right.
"Genetical'y? Never 'eard of t'at an' the Plug-Uglies loved t'ier poisons, I wou'd of been to'd of suc' a poison." He then looked to Iole, cocky. "S'e's messin' wit' ye, love. Try'in to get in yer head." He flicked the side of his head with his fingers. "P'aying games." He circled around Gwen and the others, eyes on the Witch like a wolf sizing up prey. "I'm proud my fiancé and son can be considered a royal stain. Let t'em burn at t'eir b'ueb'ood to a boil an if t'ey t'ink t'ey could just dispose of t'em like t'ey do to t'e rest of t'ose people t'at 'serve' t'em - 'et em come. A'l t'at t'ey will find is our streng't like a fist wit' a fang backin'." He raised his hand, and clenched it into a fist before Gwen. His eyes looking quickly to Stefan, then back to the Witch. His eyes narrowed and he step back.
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Post by Guinevere on Sept 26, 2011 23:31:24 GMT -5
::Gwen folded her hands neatly in her lap::
Oh how you love klinging to the absolutes of your world little Oliver. You've never heard of it. Your elders didn't know about it. So it must not exist. Just a few short hours ago you didn't know your supposed fiance was a princess, and you had only begun to guess at the existence of dragons. That remaining eye of yours sees even less of the truth than it does your surroundings. Much like how a newborn doesn't understand the permanence of an objekt when its not placed direktly in front of its bright eyed face. Our world is the one that floats in the bakkground of yours. The one that shapes its fate. In that world, absolutes bekome a thing of the past and reason is kast to the wind.
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Post by Oliver on Sept 27, 2011 0:43:25 GMT -5
"Oh?" Oliver's eyes grew wide and mocking. "Am I? We'l ye rig't, I'm not near'y as word'y as ye. But t'ere is one t'ing I do know an t'is is a true absolute." He stepped forward, his index finger extended, accusing. "T'at t'is 'eap of flesh sitting smug'y before me eye is not'ing but a forked tongue, conniving, poisoned word litt'e witch. Te'l me t'is... wasn't it ye t'at stabbed August and supposed'y ki'led him? Yet he lives." He threw his hands up as if to say 'oh well', "An isn't t'is t'e same witc'ed t'at p'otted against t'e p'anet - remember him, T'e Yellow King? I'm sure plenty ot'ers 'ere can go on an' on wit' numerous ot'er examples of ye p'aying t'ese games - witc'craft wit, painted words, poison in all our ears." He spun around, as if for dramatic effect, his hand still firmly accusing Gwen. "T'is woman led us into t'at trap an' for w'at purpose I ask!? To reve' a lineage t'at cou'd of been best 'eft in t'e dark. I 'eard t'e Count - he 'ad no idea about Iole's past unti'l you to'd him an' I ask w'y again? Ye just can't 'eave everyt'ing as it is, 'ave to t'row a wrench into everyone's life here for ye own amusement for Gods on'y know w'y. P'ease I beg ye-" He turned back to her, his tail flicked out and wrapped around his legs as he gruffly folded his arms. "W'at more secrets aven't ye to'd us yet, w'at more lies do ye wis' to spin? Ye want somet'ing, and Doma and her-" Pointing to Iole, "'ave somet'ing to do wit' it. W'y are ye rea'ly 'ere? Cause forgive me if I don't swallow t'at 'reformed' chocobo cac ye been shovelin' us, ye're not 'ere out of t'e kindness of t'at s'imy b'ack t'ing ye ca'l a heart."
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Post by Guinevere on Sept 27, 2011 2:14:01 GMT -5
::That same leering smile never left that porcelain face through all of Oliver's grandeur. In fact she seemed amused by it. But with that last, when he questioned her sincerity, it cracked like the broken face of a doll::
All I want, is to save the world. You are korrekt on all akkounts Little One. Not only have I been witness of the ugliness this world has to offer, I have been a part of it. I was once a kast-off of that disease that chokes this world. But it was not always so. I was once like you Oliver. I once held ideals. I once defended the weak. It was that passion that spurred me into my pursuit of power, believing that to have power would be to have the means to change that future. But I did not gain power. I bekame ruled by it. I bekame that same force I had fought against. I lost sight of what was precious. But it is not so anymore. Those six years in exile I had neither worldly nor sorceress power. The only power I had left at my disposal was my ability to help others. It was a power I had underestimated though I had seen it time and again. But to experience it for myself... That is why I chose to rejoin the fight against tyrranny. That world I had hoped for in my youth is now on the horizon. But if men like The Kount or the swine of the Empire are allowed to make their nest here, that world will krumble in its infancy. That is why I am here Oliver. Why are you here?
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Post by Oliver on Sept 27, 2011 2:30:41 GMT -5
Oliver snorted deep in his throat and his ear twitched annoyingly. He was getting very sick, and quickly so, at Gwen's weaving of words and play on the ethos of altruism. If it was coming from anyone else, even Loci or August, he'd likely believe it more - but not from her. It was more twisted poison poured into his, and everyone's ears.
"Save t'e wor'd. I keep 'earing t'at from ye, but I don't see it. Ye words, t'ey're poison - just like t'at Wutai brew ye seem so found about. It lingers on, s'owly eat'in away at anyone w'o 'ears it and wise enoug' to question it. Me mum to'd me t'is parable once, about a scorpion an' turtle."
He begun to address the crowd, clearing his throat, but keeping a death stare on Gwen.
"A scorpion, being a very poor swimmer, asked a turtle to carry ‘im on ‘is back across a river. "Are you mad?" exc’aimed t’e turt’e. "You'‘l sting me whi’e I'm swimming and I'll drown."
"My dear turtle," ‘aughed t’e scorpion, "if I were to sting you, you wou’d drown and I wou’d go down wit’ you. Now w’ere is t’e ‘ogic in t’at?"
"You're rig’t!" cried t’e turt’e. "Hop on!" T’e scorpion c’imbed aboard and ha’fway across t’e river gave t’e turt’e a mig’ty sting. As t’ey bot’ sank to t’e bottom, t’e turt’e resigned’y said:
"Do you mind if I ask you somet’ing? You said t’ere'd be no ‘ogic in your stinging me. W’y did you do it?"
"It ‘as not’ing to do wit’ ‘ogic," t’e drowning scorpion sad’y rep’ied. "It's just my c’aracter.""
He then turned to Gwen once more, looking down upon her as you would a pet that just made a mess, scolding and resentful. "Ye, dear Witchy are t'at scorpion an' ye can't c'ange ye c'aracter no matter 'ow much reasoning ye spew from t'ose yel'ow teet'." He rubbed his tongue over his teeth and snorted. "An' I'm not'ing 'ike ye... I'm 'ere to protect 'er." Tilting his head towards Iole while wearing a smirk. "An 'cause I don't trust ye."
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Post by Iole on Sept 27, 2011 2:43:44 GMT -5
::The room felt heavy as the stare between Gwen and Oliver rolled between them and outward, catching the others in its wake. No one seemed to keen on moving. Whose side do you take in a situation like this? The manipulative scarlet, or the childish idealist? The deathly silence was so swallowing in fact that no one seemed to notice Iole until she was right next to Oliver, eyes downcast and hidden beneath her hair. And it was only after the resounding slap after her hand met his face that the others seemed to remember that they were part of a discussion rather than spectators to a play. Iole's jaw was set and her words were low like the beginnings of a storm::
Don't you ever say those words again. She's not a scorpion, and she's not a character. She's a woman. A living breathing person. If she can't change, then what the hell is the point? Why should any of us try if that's true?
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Post by Kerion on Sept 27, 2011 11:48:51 GMT -5
"Oliver," Kerion started. "I know you're meaning well. But all your doing is making it impossible to work together, and with recent events we cannot afford to be divided by petty dislike. If you love Iole, consider her feelings on this instead of assuming you know what she wants. All your words are doing is pushing her farther and farther away from you."
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Post by Oliver on Sept 27, 2011 13:04:16 GMT -5
Oliver's head was thrown to the side by the slap - strong enough to get her point across, but not hard enough to hurt for more than a few moments. He slowly looked back, rubbing the spot she struck.
"Ye defendin' her? S'es not a person, s'es evil, a horrible monster... an' monsters like her don't c'ange." He then shot a furious glance to Kerion.
"Ye stay out of t'is." Then returned his focus back to Iole.
"Fine, if ye believe s'es c'anged an' not just t'rowing on a lil'mask wit' a wicked lil'smile, t'en ye can 'ave her. W'en s'e finally s'ows ye, all of ye, her true colors an' ye pull yer heads out of ye arse, t'en I'll come drag ya out of t'e fire. Till t'en, I'm t'rough wit' her." He threw the burnt and blood stained kaffiya he had been carrying at Iole's chest, then turned and begun walking away to the door. He gave one more look back, eyes on Gwen. "Ye must be rat'er smug wit'yerself - t'is is w'at ye wanted, isn't it?" He glanced around. "Oh, an ask yeselves w'y s'e kept avoidin' my questions - t'ere in lies t'e trut'." He stepped through the door and slammed it shut - leaving them.
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Post by Lillith on Sept 27, 2011 13:44:08 GMT -5
::Iole stood where she was, not even watching Oliver leave, letting the charred rag fall to the ground. Lillith shot up from her seat and scooped the Kaffiya off the floor::
Oliver wait!
::Without waiting for another powder keg to spark she left the room to follow him. She was as through with what was going on here as Oliver was. She called after him, but he didn't stop his dramatic walk-away immediately, too stung by betrayal to listen::
Oliver! Oliver wait! Listen to me!
::She caught him by the arm at last and though her frame was slight, her will was great enough to make him face her and look into her green eyes, which while strange had that same maternal warmth that he himself had put there::
You're not going to make things better this way. Look, I don't trust her either. And on our side or not, that doesn't change the fact that I hate her, and probably will for the rest of my life.
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Post by Guinevere on Sept 27, 2011 15:28:58 GMT -5
::Iole left the room next, though not as explosively as Oliver, and Gwen seemed to be losing heart that they were going to reach a decision on their next move::
This is not going well. But I suppose it kan't be helped.
::She shook her head::
The young and passionate.
::She turned her attention to those that remained::
I suppose we should at least decide now who is going to be staying and who will not. Gideon, your only objektive is to purge Jezebel's taint from this world, korrekt?
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Gideon Lightfeather
Experienced Novice
No matter what world I am on, one thing is always the same; What is good, and what is evil.
Posts: 97
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Post by Gideon Lightfeather on Sept 27, 2011 15:33:59 GMT -5
True. And though I can't say this Count Sigismund gaining power of that Kingdom sits well with me, there's no poison from my world lingering in him, and I'm forbidden from interfering with the affairs of this world unless it's linked to mine. However, that man, the one you call August, was he the man with glasses at the ball?
Gwen: He was. Interesting kharakter no?
You and I have very different ideas about interesting. Jezebel's scent was all over him. Whether or not he's aware of the hold she has on his soul, he's clearly aware of his actions, and he seems to revel in that darkness. I'll be going after him next. I believe I should take my leave at the next port.
Gwen: I understand. ::She turned to the small speaker on the control board linking Vincent and the crew of the Hijrah to their conference:: Good Kaptain, what of you? Your presence of the ball was warranted, and your assistance appreciated. But if you're not interested from this point on, no one would fault you. This is your last chance to bakk out.
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Post by Oliver on Sept 27, 2011 22:14:47 GMT -5
Oliver shifted his arm out of her grasp, more out of reaction then resentment. He wanted to look away, but her eyes kept him drawn in and focused. Least, he felt, that someone was on his side in this - even remotely. Most thankfully, she was wary of her intentions just as he has been, reinforced further by the events of the last evening.
"Least someone somewhat gets me. Look at w'ere we're at, Adrian is dead now... 'ow many more are going to die before t'ey realize s'es settin' us up for some-sort of ulterior motive of 'ers. A'l of t'ose old enemies were rig't t'ere, waiting for us. S'e lead us into t'at den of vipers an' we're suppose to be'ieve t'at it was a coincidence? T'ere is no coincidence, Lillith, on'y the illusion of coincidence." Looking past her to the door where the others were talking. "I refuse to partake in 'er game anymore, t'at web of 'ers is gonna get more hurt, or worse. I won't soil me conscious anymore t'en it a'ready is by workin' by 'er rules. An' w'at is t'e deal with t'is Stefan poofter! Ye see t'e way Iole looks at 'im! Bet he's a'l part of t'at 'ittle painted harlot's plan. S'e gonna tear us a'l apart before t'is ends."
Oliver steps back, glancing down, fists clenching with the steady beat of his heart. He wanted to handle things the way they would back in Lindblum, during the war. Couldn't trust a comrade? Put a bullet in his head and be done with it - he envisioned Gwen with a smoking hole through her forehead and for a brief moment, he felt better.
"We're trapped in a fig't we s'ould never of gotten involved in... aren't we?
-Meanwhile, on board the Hijrah-
"Gwen... what a pleasant surprise to hear from you. No, we're keeping involved. The Empire is interested in me and I want to know exactly why. Also this might be my chance to finally get all that aristocracy business behind me - knocking a few heads goes a long way to tarnishing a family name. We'll keep in touch, going to do some snooping my own way. I'll let you know what I uncover when I do. Till then, Hijrah out."
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Post by Kerion on Sept 27, 2011 22:32:57 GMT -5
"Roger that Vincent. But some advice, stay away from Leah Garden for the time being. We're sure Lindblum and Doma might be expecting us to show up there, so we're selecting a new spot to meet and lay low, just in case. We'll inform you where we'll be next time you contact us. Black Jack out."
::The communications then cut off as he looks around the room::
"Anyone have any ideas?"
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Post by Lillith on Sept 28, 2011 1:38:44 GMT -5
::Lillith couldn't be shaken off so easily. After he'd thrown her arm she laid a hand gently on his shoulder::
That's entirely up to Iole I think. Gwen's whole plan seems to hinge on Iole actually giving a damn about Doma. And call me crazy, but Iole just really doesn't seem like the princess type. What do you think she'll do?
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Post by Oliver on Sept 28, 2011 2:11:28 GMT -5
Oliver shook his head no, that's one of the last things he could envision her as. High society and chicken wings didn't exactly go hand in hand. And she'd burn through an entire kingdom to just get some chicken wings.
"Te'l t'at to t'e poofter, Stefan. An' Guinevere is certian'y try'in to turn her into t'at pretty pretty princess." He shuddered, "Just unnatura'."
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Post by Lillith on Sept 28, 2011 2:22:50 GMT -5
Relax Oliver. I have seen the way Iole looks at him. There is something strange there. But it's nothing like the way she looks at you.
::She lowered her gaze to the floor::
Oliver, I'm going to have to ask you something, and this is going to be very difficult for you to hear, but I need to say it. When we land at the next port, Kenny and I will be leaving with Gideon. Whatever decision is made about the Doma situation, I'm not going to be part of it anymore. I'm going after August, and I don't want you to come with me.
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Post by Oliver on Sept 28, 2011 2:30:14 GMT -5
Oliver didn't appear pleased to hear that she was going after August with Gideon and Kenny, but he understood her decision for doing so. Oliver had other priorities - even if he didn't want to partake in Gwen's game and Doma, rather seeing August hung by his stupid sweater-vest and glasses rammed up his arse, he had an obligation to Iole and leaving her alone with that witch and fancy boy was not an option on the table right now.
"I understand - don't 'ike it, but I understand. Just promise me t'is, t'at ye'll be careful an' safe. A'ready got t'e drop on ye once, next time mig't not be so lucky." He warmly smiled and gave her a light hug, "An one more t'ing." Deviously speaking, "Bring me 'is glasses w'en ye do take 'im down, just as a 'ittle 'souvenir'."
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Post by Lillith on Sept 28, 2011 2:32:35 GMT -5
::Lillith gave him a mock glare::
Hey, I'm supposed to be the one telling you to be careful.
::She returned his hug, as always tighter than needed::
Don't worry about me. Before I'm through, he'll be the one running. Not us anymore.
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