Suspicion Song | The First Order - Invite

[Natasi Fortan]

​

The sight of [member="Tanomas Graf"] at the First Order Life Day cocktail reception sent a cold shock through Natasi. At least he had the good grace to be slunk off in a corner, she thought, but what was he doing here at any rate? Shouldn't he still be in custody or under supervision somewhere? At various stages of her interaction with Tanomas Graf, Natasi had signed orders to promote him, to suspend his security credentials, and to issue a death warrant for his treason. She had even ordered and paid for an extracurricular bounty hunter to bring proof of his death to her.

And here he was. Drinking her booze and eating her canapes.

Natasi made no reaction; it was as if she didn't see him at all as she continued her stride. She half-turned to murmur to her attendant to "Send Glass to my suite." It was after midnight and the party was still going on, with music twinkling through the lobbies and bars and corridors. Glass was surely still awake, and if he wasn't he soon would be. Natasi entered the elevator alone, keyed the top floor and swiped her badge. A moment later she was emerging into the Imperial Suite, the penthouse that occupied the top floor of the hotel. It featured several bedrooms, which was handy because she had Pierce and the children as well as their nanny and security detail, as well as Natasi's own ladies maid, security detail, and staff.

"Good evening, ma'am," said the steward. "How can I help you?"

"Lay a fire in the great room," said Natasi. "I'm expecting guests."

As if on cue, the elevator opened and Glass emerged, looking somewhat tipsy and with a smudge of pink lipstick on his collar. "Your Excellency."

"Leave us," Natasi ordered the steward, who bowed and scurried out. Natasi turned her dark eyes to Glass again. "Did you know that Tanomas Graf is here?" Natasi asked without further preamble. "The traitor Tanomas Graf? How in the Balance did he get credentials to be here?" she demanded.

"I'll look into it, ma'am. Give me two minutes."

Natasi dismissed him and walked into the great room, the short train of her evening gown trailing behind her. She paced anxiously for a moment, then went to the bar and fixed herself a G&T. True to his word, Glass came in less than two minutes later and joined her near the bar. "Ma'am, it seems that Director Shephard has reactivated his credentials and reinstated his position." Natasi's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Shall I get Director -- "

"Immediately," Natasi said. "And get Kimura. Let's put a little pressure on Shepard." Natasi sipped her cocktail as Glass nodded and turned to leave. Natasi lowered her drink. "Glass -- you can get Graf too. Put him in the dining room. Let him sweat a little until I get to the bottom of this. When you get Shepard and Kimura, bring them to me here." She gestured toward the fireplace. When Glass had left, she went to the armchairs and sat down, silently seething as she stared into the flames.

- - - - -​

A few minutes later, Glass had tracked down Sybil Shepard, known by some as [member="The Major"]. Some professional courtesy that existed between them motivated Glass to give the Director some warning. "The Grand Moff wants you in her room and she's got a face like she's been stabbed in the groin. I'm finding a few more then I'll be upstairs." He left in search of [member="Odile Kimura"] and [member="Tanomas Graf"].

[member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Odile Kimura"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

明日のことを言うと天井のネズミが笑う​

​

- If you speak of tomorrow, the rats in the ceiling will laugh -​

​

-​

​

And so they would be laughing now if they could see where Odile had ended up. Aspirations of this calibre had hardly been his, and yet here he found himself amidst the so called 'High Society' of the First Order. Though strictly speaking, he didn't belong to high society. Unlike many of the First Order social elite, Odile Kimura lived a modest life. Simple things entertained the native Atrisian. Tea in the peace of his garden, a walk through the forest on a cool fall evening - the high speed life in the First Order had taken time getting used to. Even so, Odile had thrived on the opportunity. Reaching up to the round rimmed glasses resting upon his face, he procured a cloth from the pocket of his suit. Almost absentmindedly he began buffing the lenses, forgetting for a moment where he was. At least, until his self imposed solitude was interrupted by a familiar voice.

It had been Theodore Glass, Principal Private Secretary to the Grand Moff. Though surprised by the man's summons, and by extension the Grand Moff herself, Odile Kimura kept a neutral expression. Resting the glasses whence they'd come as well as the cloth, he followed diligently. What business did the Grand Moff have that would involve someone of his station? By no means a big player within the Bureau, he found it strange that he of all people should be summoned. Had something untoward occurred back on his home world? Was there something she wanted to know about it? An odd thought considering the occasion - a Life Day celebration, however stranger things had happened. What plans he may have had slipped away with each step forward. Odile was okay with that. Surely the rats were laughing now, and if things continued the way they had, Mr. Kimura suspected he would keep them entertained for some time.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[The Major]

“In the midnight hour, I can feel your power -just like a prayer.”​

​

​

The Major’s Theme​

Within the swirl of ruby wine the woman so awkwardly referred to the Major -even though her tenure as an army attache had long since expired as her rise in within the clandestine arm of the civilian government propelled her into matters as opaque as the ruddy contents passing past her smirking lips and accursed tongue - could espy the various star like refractions from the candles and other sources of light dominating the main hall twinkling about her glass, sparkling like the cosmos itself upon the warming liquid.

Seeing those pinpricks caused her to reflect back on a short, violent, duplicitous career -and one very carefully measured, intricately planned at every phase, or wantonly and despicably dealt with whenever the tables turned with surprise. Soon, however, the much esteemed and much despised Major would have to reveal her truer intents. She could feel this pressure like a noose of judgement being tied and shaped about her neck. Only, rather than do a thing to limit this kind of damage or mitigate an impending doom, Sybil could not allow it to recess. Instead, she careened down this path - content to embrace what came as she treaded upon giants and power structures beyond the scope of human understanding. Well, beyond normal understanding in any case.

The aide known as Glass interrupted what Sybil was doing with her own with a colorfully relayed message, stating that the Grand Moff had been so kind as to summon the good Director. How nice. The only Fallanassi on First Order payroll had noticed a certain Fortanian coldness during the evening, and it was nearly impossible to even reach eye level with the head of state throughout the night. This was unusual, nor did the mischievous leader of spies quite like it if she was to be completely honest. So when Glass said, “She got a face like she's been stabbed in the groin,” the Major could only reply with her patented brand of sardonic expression, complete with a devilish smile that was as both lovely and manic as the half crazed spark which set her irises alight time and time again.

“Can't say I've had that pleasure. Take me to her then.” Off they marched away from lively music and mystical, moving chatter into a more private area of the resort. Standing before a set of rich double doors Glass pointed toward its handle to let Sybil know she would have to cross the threshold before walking off with a purpose that implied another important task.

Interesting. Maybe the rope was coming sooner than anticipated. Disturbing imagery of her mangled corpse being dumped under the wastes of Hoth punctuated her mind for but a moment. She reassessed her stance and adjusted her dress tie - grabbing the embossed handles before pushing the door with an inescapable, graceful flourish. Inside Sybil found Natasi waiting a room that certainly had to be splendid, but instead she was drawn to the presence of the Grand Moff, watching the flames of the fireplace play wrathful magnificence in crackling ebbs and enticing eddies upon a woman who stood for so much for so many.

Confidently, the four eyed noble from another time and place spoke, humming in her icy tones.

“I'm here, your Excellency.”​

​

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Odile Kimura"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

https://youtu.be/NRRPCjr1Ito​

Natasi rose when she heard the elevator chime and turned to see [member="Odile Kimura"] enter, and in short order he was followed by [member="The Major"]. Glass, she knew, would be going in search of the third horse of this particular apocalypse, [member="Tanomas Graf"]. Meanwhile, Natasi had the intelligence community to deal with. "Director Shepard, Mr. Kimura, thank you for tearing yourselves away from the festivities. I'll try to make this as brief as possible." She paced towards the pair, her gaze falling coolly on Sybil Shepard. The ginger Director of the Security Bureau had always struck her has exceedingly competent. Loyal almost to a fault. But there was apparently something unscrutable hiding behind those glassy eyes.

It would have been intriguing if it weren't so infuriating. But there would be time to explore this later.

"I saw something very interesting downstairs," Natasi said, her Galidraani lilt uncharacteristically clipped, her Galidraani peach skin unusually pale. "A face which I haven't seen for some years. The last time I saw this particular face, it was on a wanted poster that I authorized. The last time I saw it before that was on a report that the man with the face had defected to the Galactic Alliance. So, imagine my surprise when I discovered that not only was Tanomas Graf in First Order space but here, on Hoth. Here! In this very hotel!"

Natasi's fists had balled during this lead-up, the tendons in her wrists straining like girding cables. "Imagine my shock when I discovered that he was authorized to be here. That his credentials had been reinstated and my execution order -- my execution order -- had been rescinded with neither my knowledge nor my approval. Think of the social faux pas, Director Shepard, had I had a blaster or a knife when I passed the traitor in his corner. I had heard rumors -- ghosts of rumors, actually -- that Graf had been recovered and was in our custody, frozen in carbonite where he could do us no harm. But nothing like this." The Grand Moff began to work her gloves off carefully, one finger at a time, all the while staring at the redhead opposite the room. Kimura had not been, to Natasi's knowledge, directly involved in the decision or its execution, but his presence there was not incidental. It was a message and a threat -- that a dressing down in front of a subordinate was only humiliating because he was a subordinate, a status that could easily be changed. And that despite her connection to [member="Dante Calgar"], Sybil Shepard served at the pleasure of the Grand Moff.

Still; in her fury, Natasi did not overlook the fact that there might be a reasonable explanation for this unfortunate oversight. She prided herself on being fair and impartial and most of all, a servant of justice. She, her dark eyes fixed on [member="The Major"] and she raised her eyebrows, her voice once again returning to its neutral, pleasant, posh Galidraani. "Please explain."

 

[Progflaw99]

Odile Kimura had seen a number of awkward situations in his life. It tended to happen when you worked in enforcement of the law regardless of where. Even so, this was perhaps the most striking of those situations, one in which he found himself - rather unhappily - near the center of. The purpose of his presence slowly took form, only fully realized as the Grand Moff delicately yet forcefully extricated each finger from her gloves. The political players were new to him, mostly, but the game was played largely the same. Unwittingly this time he found himself a pawn in someone else's three dimensional underwater chess game. *Promotion is a chess rule that requires a pawn that reaches its eighth rank to be immediately replaced by the player's choice of a queen, knight, rook, or bishop of the same color . The new piece replaces the pawn, as part of the same move.* Though he was unnerved by his sudden place in the spotlight Odile kept a neutral expression. There was opportunity here. Dangerous, but opportunity nonetheless.

As attention shifted to Director Shepard the man shifted in his shoes. From behind the round rimmed glasses he watched and waited. It was a drama of sorts, an intrigue as one might read out of a novel or see in a holofilm but this.. this was so much better. Already the gears and cogs of his mind were working, forming a greater picture of the state of things. This game was no different than those of his locality on Atrisia and the more he learned, the more dangerous he would become. Waiting respectfully he hinged on every word.

[member="The Major"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Tanomas Graf]

Tanomas Graf had been found where he had been the entire night, with a burning cigar in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.

Except something changed; maybe it was the flavour of the cigar, or the alcoholic beverage repeatedly imbibed, but he had went from bitter outcast to laughing and telling war stories with a group of grey-haired officers. Then a man arrived asking for him, informing him that the grand moff wished for his presence.

The colour drained from his face, was the jig finally up? Was he about to be tried and executed as a traitor? He downed the rest of his drink and put out the cigar, excusing himself from the group and anxiously trailing behind the attaché. They arrived at the top floor of the hotel, the older gentleman catching a glimpse of the grand moff, the woman, and a man he had never seen before he was escorted into a dining room of sorts.

He sat down, folding his hands over each other on the table, and closed his eyes to think over strategies and what he would say once they called for him. He had heard of Natasi Fortan before but had never met her in person, only seeing her at the parties he was forced to attempt as an admiral. She was a shrewd politician, no doubt better than him, she had to be to be able to administrate the choking bureaucracy that was the First Order.

Military command had always been his greatest strength, he had chosen not beat around the bush with a complex government when the Remnant was reformed into a galactic empire. Perhaps that was why he in custody of his former rival and not leading a crusade against the unsavoury elements of the Galaxy.

Perhaps he had made a mistake somewhere.

He just didn't know where.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Odile Kimura"]

 

[The Major]

Fast was the fleeting of Lady Shepard’s smile as she quickly realized this wasn’t going to be the most pleasant part of the evening. As expected, the tension escalated quickly while the Grand Moff indulged in the privilege of her station: presenting her question with a dramatic flair that was expected of someone so graceful. Regardless of the beautiful theatrics - from the drained pallor of the Galidraani’s cheeks which still maintained an exquisite gorgeousness despite the subtextual stabbing of the syllables playing off her tongue to the more overt crunching of her more delicate hands (delicate compared to a soldier) which revealed just how much anger this parlor trick produced- something about this moment was cheapened. Namely, cheapened by the presence of one gentleman: Mr. Kimura. Now, the Director didn’t necessarily have issues with the mysterious Atrisian herself. He was, after all, a man cut of similar cloth to Sybil. In any other situation to see him again would be a chippy affair with a rare specimen of quiet cunning, a man of acute perception, in possession of the treasure that was rational stoicism.

Now to see him was an offense, and Sybil knew exactly that he had not chosen to be here, but had been summoned to be here.

Which, in an ironic twist of youthful rage and pride, aggravated and emboldened the Major’s sickly spirit. It would have been right for the young woman to feel a sense of shame for guiding the Security Bureau down paths of contention. Instead, with a witness present she felt like a child receiving baleful admonishment from a parent.

A semblance of dignity enabled the Director to maintain composure, but it was highly doubtful that either Moff Fortan or Mr. Kimura failed to notice the sudden, vicious glint in Lady Shepard’s eyes or how her freckled cheeks were starting to twinge in a bruised purple in the amber light of the fireplace. Easily confused with the sting of humiliation, those attuned to sensations preternatural in inclination would understand that the Director fumed. There was no doubt Sybil was in the wrong and yet she still managed to feel insulted.

"Please explain." Finished Natasi.

Sybil exhaled slowly, nodding not so much at the brilliant display of the First Order’s culture and glory wrapped up so aptly in one package currently flickering in reflection upon the lenses of her glasses, but acknowledging that she was, in fact, not offered a seat.

Very well. If this was to be their otherwise lovely evening, so be it.

The Major reached for her hip, brushing at the holster tucked just underneath the fold of her dress jacket, briefly showing the antique revolver which had come across the galaxy to this point. Her knit gloved fingers reached past the ebony grip and slipped into a pocket in her trousers, pulling free a small case of polished silver. From this case the auburn topped operator pulled out a cigarillo which already gently touched the air with a faint, vaguely sweet hint of vanilla. Tucking that between her teeth seemed to help her quell some of the boiling inside.

“Yes, your excellency. Imperator Graf’s reinstiment can be surmised easily in three points: desperation, dispensability, and distress.” Her hands shuffled for a lighter tucked in a different pocket while her eyes met the Moff’s.

“Firstly: our Navy is desperate for capable leadership to fill vacancies after the outro of the Galactic Alliance, the advent of the mandate and the bleeding we committed to in trying to police the former worlds of the Alliance, along with the disaster at Skor. Remember, we took in the remnants of the Imperator’s empire along with their assets. Those assets are desperate for a reason to follow the dictates of Supreme Leader -which they rightly have no reason to trust especially in recent light of events, and in the token of Tanomas we have a figurehead they can continue to follow so long as he follows our directives.”

Out came a flip lighter: a black, plain looking thing for the Director to be using considering her penchant for pomp. This she thumbed opened with tiny yet audible metallic click without pausing her rant.

“Secondly: he’s a completely disposable tool despite his excellent record on the field. Moreover, he’s a very useful tool who must meet our demands or else enjoy the sting of execution. Beholden to the our Security Bureau, discreetly beholden to you, he can serve as another ear as your latest orders are dispensed throughout the nation and within the admiralty itself.”

Another click and a tiny jet of fire produced a blue light that played starlights upon the elusive Major’s eyes.

“Thirdly: he’s quite charming once you speak to him. You could use the sport, helping cull the distress. I would have rather have kept this as a private comment, but seeing as you see Mr. Kimura -good day by the way- as fit for company for the dressing down of your subordinates he may as well hear this as well. You’re changing, and not for the better.”

Up went the flame to light a tiny fire.

“I’d rather not be so indecent as to risk my life to critique whatever it is you feel or whatever pressure you seem to allow to crush you, but I am aware of it. If I am aware of it others are aware of it. It’s only a matter of time until others exploit it. I care not for it, nor do I care to know why you’ve allowed it to occur. You’ve dabbled too long in mourning. Our nation deserves more, and you are most effective with a man in your life.”

The Major, resentment beginning to creep into the back of her throat, turned and stepped closer to a nearby wall, away from the two others in the room, inhaling the smoke before blowing it in two streams of hot mist through her nose.

“Isn’t that what you need? A man?” Sybil closed her eyes with a pronounced frown. Apparently, she had no regulator keeping her ruddy lips shut, and she seemingly discarded any self preservation instinct.

“Given your preference for candor with foreign heads of state and former enemies, this seemed like an appropriate gesture. Besides, it might be interesting to find out why the man did what he did in the first place. As for the…. surprise of it all….”

She took another drag and repeated the ritual.

“Well, I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, your excellency. Consider it my gift for Life Day: Tanomas Graf. Talk to him, prod him, interrogate him, kill him; it matters not. Do something, Grand Moff Fortan.”

Now Sybil turned to face Natasi again, looking at her with shining, azure eyes and a big, bright smile.

“He’s completely discardable. All of your servants, including myself, are.”

And so she smiled that melancholic smile, cigarillo in mouth steaming a little flicker of floral smoke.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Odile Kimura"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The controlled confrontation had caused the color to drain from Natasi's skin; she looked positively icy by then. Icy, but vivid -- not like a corpse but rather like a controlled cold fusion: dynamic and dangerous. But as [member="The Major"] went about justifying herself, color and heat returned to Natasi's flesh. It began on her chest, rising slowly like a creeping vine before emerging from the modest chiffon shield that covered her décolletage, swirling up around her collarbone, up her neck to her jaw and cheeks. She had clearly not responded well to Shepard's declarations. The Grand Moff was stock-still; even the gin in her glass daren't tremble until she raised it to her lips and in one slow draught, disappeared into her mouth.

Natasi's motions were deliberate; she set the glass down on the table and then walked towards Shepard. She stopped when they were all-but face to face, and though the Grand Moff had to lift her chin to look Sybil directly in the eye, at that moment Natasi was towering over her -- and indeed, Kimura, to whom neither woman looked for the moment. The presence of another may well have saved Shepard -- if not her life, then her professional position and reputation. When the Grand Moff spoke, her voice was flat and calm, very nearly a whisper. "Over the last few years, Director Shepard, I have watched you climb the ranks, from outsider to Director-level. You've moved from the fringes closer and closer to the center -- closer and closer to me."

Natasi paused, her eyebrow twitching up somewhat. "Now you're quite close to me. Always there. Always whispering something or other into my ear. But don't ever make the mistake of assuming that proximity to power is power or that proximity to a person is knowledge of them. If you observe these instructions in future, it will prevent you from humiliating yourself like this again." She clutched her gloves in both hands in front of her now, her knuckles white with unexpressed rage. "I'll be in touch with your office and Minister Calgar first thing upon our return to Avalonia where we can discuss this situation further. Go and wait in the dining room with your friend the Imperator," Natasi said, her lips twisting in disdain at this last title bestowed by Shepard. "Mr. Kimura and I will be along presently. Perhaps take the intervening moments to consider what it is to waste an opportunity."

The Grand Moff waited for a beat, then gestured towards the door. "Now, Shepard." There was no right of reply, and Natasi raised her arm in a gesture to Kimura, beckoning him towards her, away from the door. There was a stony silence as Natasi waited for Shepard to make her exit; in the doorway, she caught a glimpse of Glass, whose eyebrows raised in silent question. The half-turn of Natasi's head and the dangerous glint in her dark eyes was all the answer he needed for the moment. He shut the door and went into the dining room. "The Grand Moff will be along shortly," he told [member="Tanomas Graf"] and [member="The Major"]. Meanwhile, in the room, Natasi smiled wearily at Kimura. "I'm sorry you had to witness that. Unfortunately, it appears that the Director thinks she is untouchable. Perhaps your presence will remind her that there is a -- what is the sports metaphor? -- a deep bench of talent within the Security Bureau."

The Grand Moff set her gloves on the back of her chair and turned back to Kimura. "I would never subvert the workings of the Security Bureau, but I believe you'll agree I now have reason to doubt the candor of its Director. On the other hand, without more information, I don't have grounds to be rid of her entirely. I'm not necessarily looking for grounds, you understand. But if there are some, I'd like to be made aware of them. By someone in the Security Bureau that I can trust to be discreet." Natasi's dark eyes flicked up to Kimura's, hoping that they could understand each other. "To be loyal. To the First Order, the Supreme Leader, and myself. What are your thoughts on the matter, Mr. Kimura?"

[member="Odile Kimura"]​

 

[The Major]

While the Grand Moff fired back the more and more tentative Director adopted a respectful expression out of a need to facilitate this unpleasantness as quickly as it could be completed, knowing that adding to it would only make matters worse. She found herself unshaken, unmoved by Natasi’s half attempts of intimidation -although it would have been foolhardy, nigh suicidal, to smile like an idiot while undergoing yet more admonishment.

What Sybil was beginning to realize as that mouth in front of her moved in angry shapes and those eyes burned with a barely contained restraint of hatred was that the First Order was in even more dangerous shape than even she could initially fathom. Obsessed they were with power and formalities, and even now as the Empire began to burn at the edges they misconstrued the Director’s attempts at something so simple as power.

Power? What possible power could Sybil deign to hold over the Grand Moff? That’s not what she was looking for. No, Lady Shepard wasn’t so daft as to think her presentation wasn’t designed to rile that Fortanian resolve, but she knew she committed to such theatrics because Natasi needed to be shaken for the good of their nation. Instead, there were whispered reminders of the Major’s own promotions and ranks: conflated trite that she had no heart for; not like how she did have a heart for the Moff. As soon as her superiors realized it wasn’t strictly power, or wealth, or even a safe career in some cushy cabinet post that the mysterious Major chased-the sooner they would figure out the most effective ways of dealing with the Supreme Leader’s one and only Fallanassi.

Now the part of the speech took its course towards the importance of preventing humiliation, but this point was lost upon the Major, who felt no shame or guilt but only tasted the various twinging shades of red remorse for what, as the Grand Moff so tastefully declared, was to “waste an opportunity.”

Silently, the Major evenly walked out of the room with nothing to accompany her except some sort of potential lesson being completely lost.

Moments later the auburn topped aspect of misfortune burst into the dining room occupied solely by the cause of all this distress, Tanomas Graf. She might as well kicked in the door and shot up the room for the sardonic grin which cracked upon her face. Voice enriched by some sort of perverse self satisfaction, she addressed the Imperator.

“It went WELL!”

The Major then flung her cigar case unto the table along with its companion lighter, the two items sliding just before Graf’s hands as an offer. The hellbound tiger of a woman shoved a chair open across from him to make room, sat upon it, and kicked her boots up unto the table, completely disconnected from reality.

“Though, good Sir, I must admit, if you don’t have something more impressive to say other than, ‘Your Director told me to do this,’ you might want to grab some of that fine brandy over yonder,” She gestured. “It might be the last either of us taste.”

She shrugged, taking another drag from her smoke. ​

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Odile Kimura"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

Had he been standing anywhere but in the shadow of the entry Mr. Kimura's cheeks would have revealed their flushed hue. Luckily for him, he had escaped the women's notice. Instead, he stood somewhat uncomfortably as what appeared to be some long unspoken drama began to unfold. Odile was anything but slow of mind and it took only several sentences to start piecing together what was happening before him. A few of the more specific nuances were left unknown but as the Director retorted almost vehemently he could practically feel the air being sucked out of the room. The Grand Moff's reply was condemning - Odile felt like a paper boat caught in the furious torment of a maelstrom. Unable to change his course, unable to avoid the storm that would be sure to capsize him. A reluctant witness as to what the Grand Moff's fury might bring down upon them all.

And then, it was over. As uncomfortably as it had began the Director had been dismissed. Mr. Kimura noted they both still stood, heads attached, and that was a good thing. At least, he thought so. With the figure of the Director hastily making exit, much to his chagrin, Odile realized that now he too had been drawn into the web. Unable to escape. Natasi's words falling on his ears found him adjusting his glasses as his mind began to turn to the present. Odile Kimura had never been less than loyal - both to his province on Atrisia and now to the First Order. Strictly speaking, the Grand Moff wasn't asking him to be anything less. Even so it was a sour taste that filled his mouth. If it was candor she was after perhaps it wasn't the kind the Director had offered. Then again, truth in these times seemed to be subjective to a point. Choosing his words carefully he responded, his tone guarded. "Your excellency." He led with, a curt bow before continuing. "Baka mo ichi-gei" he almost said under his breath. "Even a fool has one talent."

A perhaps less than clear response. Odile considered further explaining but in his own fashion he decided against it - until the pregnant pause saturated the air about them. "What I mean to say is that if there is one thing your excellency can trust, it is my unwavering loyalty." His words were slow, deliberate, forceful even. He offered nothing more, instead choosing to meet eyes with the Grand Moff. Peering through the circular lenses of his glasses, Mr. Kimura couldn't help but feel as if he'd just sold his soul. On the other hand, he was reassured. The Grand Moff seemed to value loyalty, a quality that Mr. Kimura often found a commodity - it put his mind at ease knowing he was far from offering coin to a cat.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Tanomas Graf]

Graf brought a wrinkled hand up to his face as the woman gave her news, a low sigh escaping from his lips as he stood up to pace dejectedly towards the bottle of brandy off to the side."What in the blazes could you have possibly done now?" He asked rhetorically, the sound of crystal clinking from where he stood, followed by the rush of liquid. Although oblivious to the words exchanged between the red-haired mess and his former political rival, he was quite quick to ascertain the current situation by the behaviour of the woman.

"I've no leverage save for the possibility of my former loyalists starting another damned civil war," He declared, twisting the stopper back onto the bottle, "and I'm not keen on the prospect of tearing apart yet another bastion of age-old Imperialism just to spite a woman who can't deal with me being alive." The Imperator brought over two glasses of the amber liquid, offering one to his collaborator before sitting down with his own. He swirled it around the tumbler, proceeding to take a long sip.

"I suppose fifty-nine isn't too bad of an age to go, my birthday was a few days ago, after all." Tanomas took a deep breath and downed the rest of his drink, standing up once more. "I think I ought to go out swinging, aye? Give her something to really think about after I'm sentenced to death?" The older man paced around the room for a moment, thinking to himself as they waited, "A threat would do me no good, it would further add to the list of 'Reasons to Kill Tanomas Graf'," He admitted, stopping behind his seat, "perhaps a ballad? O' Fortan, O' Fortan, your shimmering brown hair splayed over your stern features! I beg you not slay me, for I am but a sickly creature!"

He waved a hand through the air dramatically, suddenly dropping the act and going for another drink.

"We're going to die."

[member="The Major"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Odile Kimura"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi studied Odile for a few moments, her dark eyes inscrutable. The man was speaking in riddles; he was Atrisian, if Natasi recalled correctly. She did not take comfort in his response, but nor was she discouraged. The Grand Moff rubbed the bridge of her nose lightly, then cleared her throat. "I'm pleased to hear it, Mr. Kimura. I'll be in touch when we return to Avalonia about what we can do to help one another. Something must be done about... rogue elements." She smiled politely and gestured toward the door. "Shall we?"

The Grand Moff moved to the door and crossed the foyer, coming up short as she heard the dulcent tones of [member="Tanomas Graf"] singing about her shimmering brown hair and stern features. She held up a hand to slow Kimura until the little ditty was finished, then she pushed the door open and stepped in. Her eyes immediately tracked to the Graf, helping himself to her brandy on a nearby side table. Her eyebrow arched as she watched him; he did not appear to be aware of Natasi's presence yet.

"We're going to die."

"That's true for us all, Graf," said the Grand Moff. "Or is it Admiral Graf? Or -- Imperator, wasn't it, Director Shepard?" Her cold gaze crossed to Sybil for a moment. "Whatever the hell that means. Sit," she said, moving to the head of the table where she took her own seat. "All of you," she said, glancing between the two intelligence officials. She waited, steepling her fingers and studying her fingernails as she waited for compliance. When everyone was settled, the Grand Moff looked across the table at Graf.

"Are you aware that Director Shepard came here to -- what's the term? -- peddle your flesh to me? She seems to think that I am unable to conduct myself or lead this government without a male romantic partner to share the burden." She looked to [member="The Major"], canting her head to one side. "Forgetting, of course, that I built this Empire without a husband, probably before she was out of nappies." She inclined her head to the Director. "Were you aware of this when you accepted her clemency?" Her gaze turned back to Graf.

[member="Odile Kimura"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

"Order will be maintained, your Excellency." Odile responded with a curt bow once more as he followed the woman's cue. He fell into step beside and just behind the Grand Moff, content to follow in her wake. Continuously peering out across the room from behind his circular glasses the Atrisian picked up on the woman's tack quickly. It hadn't been a direct route but close, Natasi's target evident as the observant Kimura followed her gaze. Stopping as the woman motioned, he rest on the balls of his feet. He struck a neutral expression as he set eyes on both the Director and the man named Tanomas Graf. A man of significant stature and build, Kimura felt eclipsed both in height and gravitas by the remainder present. He knew little of the so called Imperator, only just now meeting him. *Well seasoned.* he thought silently.

"Sit." The Grand Moff's command truncating any stray thoughts floating about his mind. In conjunction with the others Odile took position behind one of the chairs, carefully and nimbly lowering himself into the seat. It was a strange feeling Mr. Kimura felt, akin to his schooldays in the province of Kansai. Gathered, preparing to be chastised or berated - at least that's what this seemed like. *An unfortunate observer to an unknown opera indeed.* The lead was flying hard and fast, politics in the First Order threatening to shock the Atrisian - but steadfast his composure remained. There was no subtlety with which the Grand Moff took aim and fired at the other two present, an abrupt distinction between the two nations now bound together.

Mr. Kimura was content to merely observe the unfolding drama before him though a quick sympathetic glance was leveled in both the Director and her clement's direction.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[The Major]

Meanwhile, the Major remained mostly still besides swinging her boots off of the table as the Grand Moff and her consort entered the room for the next phase of a spirited meeting. Sybil didn’t bother to catch any other person’s eyes. No answer could be found in the glowering eyes of the Iron Lady- not to mention how it was beneath a person of her standing to seek such sweet solace despite the oppressive atmosphere of the room. Indeed, it was a veritable blizzard complete with jagged slices of ice and drowning snow. Yet none of this bothered the Director too deeply. After all, she herself had created the blizzard of the hour. In that such devastating creation one could find a beauty, a tranquility. As she continued to smoke it was hard to argue that Shepard wasn’t in fact indulging in appreciation of that tranquil beauty.

Odd as it was, the mouthy Director managed to keep to a serene state of quietude while listening to the moody, dramatic beats and timing of the Fortian voice - listening to a person weave their way through a situation which was brimming with a barely restrained chaos.

Since no specific comment required intervention at this point she was content to listen and let Graf barter or surrender his life. However, she did have to squelch a grin at Natasi’s comment on “peddling flesh.” It seemed like the Director may have flicked one of the Grand Moff’s nerves. Perhaps that will have made all of this horror worth the trouble.

How would Sybil have dealt with such a situation should the tables be turned, and some upstart was trying to gauge her own life and fix it in unseen means? Well, such considerations are what kept the four eyed Almanian Menace’s left hand resting upon her thigh, just a dart away from her own iron lady.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Odile Kimura"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Tanomas Graf]

Graf's nose wrinkled up in slight discomfort as he heard a voice behind him, one that he had heard numerous times before in the form of propaganda and cocktail parties. His demeanour shifted slightly, his shoulders no longer slacking and his facial features sharpened with a subtle scowl. That was what human evolution came to, apparently: looking larger to ward off predators. He sat when told to do so, but not before casting a glance at the person that had followed the grand moff into the room, an Atrisian man that appeared to be of low-to-mid rank but seemed oddly observant of the situation laid before him.

The trial had begun.

The first question thrown at him by his assailant left the venerable commander visible confused, one of his dark eyebrows rising above the other; at any rate, Tanomas looked at the bespectacled director with slight disdain in his eyes before turning back to answer the question. "No, I can't say I was familiar with the strategy of touting myself about as if I was purchased from a Corellian deli," He chided, his face twitching slightly in annoyance, "Nor would I have approved of it had I been aware of such a thing." The man leaned forward slightly, an enigmatic look in his eyes.

"Anything and everything that I can market to this empire, to your government, is this." He brought up a wrinkled digit to touch against his temple. "Indisputably, you know that I am only a politician by hobby, but an admiral by trade. I helped write the book on modern destroyer tactics, and I was personally involved in the creation of almost half of the ship classes that fought and were destroyed in the War."

Graf straightened his posture, continuing to look Fortan in the eye as he went on with his discourse. "By no means am I saying that you need me, give it a few years and somebody equally as talented will find their way into your grasp, perhaps younger." He grabbed a cigar from the case in his pocket, warming and then igniting it with Shepard's lighter. "But why wait, when a repeat of what happened over Skor could be around the corner for the third time?"

He took a puff of the cigar, looking partially like a dragon as the smoke was ejected from his nose. The tobacco-filled object hung loosely from his mouth as he spoke.

"Have me or kill me; either way, in the end, I'll have won this pitiful game of life. Take a risk, only this time with a high chance of success."

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Odile Kimura"]​

 

[The Major]

At this point, the Director could no longer contain that wicked glee which graced children and psychopaths alike: a much chippier grin adorned her face in a sudden split which graced the room with an audible intensity -as a smile does when one quickly engages in the action. She waved her hands outwardly with the palms facing up. Perhaps the futility of it all weighed down upon her and broke her. Regardless of the specific reason, the Major felt it necessary to open her mouth and utter a statement gladly.

“You see? I told you he was charming.” Ever the jester, ever the shark, she turned to catch Natasi in the eye with pleased eyes. Why, were such things possible, one might even imagine they saw diamonds glittering and bouncing just beyond the sides of her auburn waves of hair.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Odile Kimura"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi listened to [member="Tanomas Graf"] as he discussed his presence and what he had on the table. She inclined her head towards [member="The Major"] as Sybil delivered what she clearly thought was witty repartee.

It was not witty.

"Director Shepard, have you been drinking?" the Grand Moff asked, swiveling in her chair to look directly at the ginger woman across the table. "I'm really asking. I can understand -- it's the holidays, it's a party, there are no less than three open bars downstairs as well as a mini-bar in your room. It would surprise me not at all to discover that people had imbibed. However, I would have expected that you exercise some discretion. No? Not tipsy?" She cleared her throat and clasped her hands beneath her chin.

"There must be some kind of explanation for your..." Natasi unclasped her hands and waved one in a circle towards Sybil as if to say whole thing. "Have you decided that working for the Supreme Leader's government is no longer in your interest?" She fixed the ginger with a glacial gaze, her eyes -- typically golden-brown like warm amber -- were like frozen mud. "If that's the case, now is the time. You can resign and we'll have no hard feelings. If, however, you intend to keep your job, then take steps, hm?"

The Grand Moff turned her attention back to Graf. "Philosophy lessons from a turncoat. How droll. But seeing as it's Life Day, I suppose I will entertain the notion that you could be useful to the First Order. Have a care, Tanomas: you betrayed me once already, and it is only the good grace -- not to mention black-hole level stupidity -- on the part of this young woman," she gestured towards Sybil without looking at her, "that you have somewhere to be. The galaxy is not typically forgiving of traitors or of old men. As of now, your debt has been erased, but if you should do anything untoward again, you will find that both you and your benefactor are in for a world of trouble."

Natasi pressed her palms to the table and stood up, leaning forward imposingly. "Because of her role in this, Tanomas, Shepard will suffer the same fate as you should you fail to live up to your duty to the Supreme Leader. And Sybil -- " The Grand Moff again favored the Director with her cold attention. "If you ever countermand one of my orders again, I will see to it personally that you are stripped of your office, imprisoned, and flogged. Just so there is no ambiguity between us. You have always had access to my office and to my attention; if we have matters to discuss, avail yourself of these and speak to me about it. Now then. Any questions?" She glanced between the two confederates briefly, eyebrows raised as if to invite any inquiries.

[member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Odile Kimura"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

It was a strange spectacle for the spectacled Atrisian. The brashness of the entire affair had put him off balance compared to those of his homeworld. *Is this business as usual?* Odile thought silently. Punch and counter punch, a dash of shichimi... the pot was boiling. Would it boil over? Observant as ever, the narrow eyed man felt the temperature rise again. Subtle shift of the Director's hand not unnoticed. Briefly Mr. Kimura felt the weight of his own concealed piece, the small form factor pressing against his abdomen. It was doubtful the situation would come to that but he was wary nonetheless.

"If you ever countermand one of my orders again, I will see to it personally that you are stripped of your office, imprisoned, and flogged. Just so there is no ambiguity between us. You have always had access to my office and to my attention; if we have matters to discuss, avail yourself of these and speak to me about it. Now then. Any questions?"

What had remained an impassive front throughout the conversation now cracked, the Atrisian's lips narrowing as his jaw tensed. The Grand Moff Fortan had lain down the gauntlet, no ambiguity about exactly where the Director now stood - outside of her graces. *Odile, you would do well not to find yourself in a similar situation.* A fear that was fleeting but present regardless. He was but a small piece in a much larger machine. In several moment's time he had gone from a foreign accomplice to the Order to something else, a political threat leveled at other internal parties. Most notably, the Director of the FOSB. *A precarious roost, indeed.* he mused. There would be changes, there would be pains of growth, perhaps even he had been placed in the sights of the Director - to test his mettle.

"Perhaps, if you'll excuse me your excellency, it would be preferable to turn our attention to the evening's events?" For a few minutes it had felt like they'd been alone, all of them, in a soundproof box. Only now did the sounds of of the Life Day cocktail party begin to filter back into frame. The sounds of his beating heart began to fade into the soft beat of the drums and bass, voices echoing and the gentle timbre of a woman singing lighting upon his ears. "A deserved rest, considering the changes as of late." His words were spoken with careful annunciation, as if to say Common was not his first tongue.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="The Major"]​