Summit Tsyion 2016 [P/MT, IC Thread, Attn: Dienstad]
Posted: Sun Sep 25, 2016 4:03 pm
The Royal House of Tsyion, Praeclarus, Evenguard of Azura
The Southern Gardens of Her Majesty the Phaedra — 4:30 PM Azuran Time
The drapery which hung from the ornate stone pillars surrounding the colonnade of the south terrace was the only muted color in sight. The hand of nature, or divine providence as it were had begun to craft its handiwork in the hills surrounding Praeclarus, turning the mountainsides into a splendid canvas; a cacophony of colors that invigorated an already-breathtaking vista with the sort of majestic beauty that befitted the Phaedra and her manor. The mums of her garden had answered the challenge of the hills as best they could, fully in bloom and vibrant along side the natural creek which flowed through the south garden. Yet nothing could compare to the sight of the changing leaves dotting the hillside, the crimson and the orange intermixed with fading green and yellow.
Casina Arcadius stood momentarily at a narrow wooden footbridge which led into a forested area of the garden, heading further beside the creek as it swelled into a mountain stream through a cut in the valley. By her last check, the groundskeepers were ahead of schedule decorating the garden patio for the formal reception after the gala in the main hall, affording her a few moments to appreciate the view she had come to neglect in her duties at Praeclarus. Tsyion was an amazingly beautiful city, nestled in the midst of Serenity Valley, surrounded by the rustic charm of the Palisades in all their glory. Such a shame that her duties kept her inside most days, away from the vibrancy of Praeclarus and all that it had to offer. If only the money weren't so good...
Who the Hell am I kidding? The money's great...
The attaché shook her head, sighing, already bored with her musings. It wasn't as if the gardeners were paid slave wages, of course: there were far worse things in life than to be under the charge of Phaedra's estate, in any capacity. And though she missed the little things in life, her work in the Evenguard had borne much fruit for the Imperium. As a virtual help-meet for the Imperatrix, Casina had become as indispensable to Phaedra as had Oleg Korzakhov and John Cailean, albeit in her own unique way. Her invaluable service to Phaedra had blessed her with the privilege of being the first non-Azur to ever plan a decennial celebration for a Phaedra. It was an honor she took very seriously, not just because of a personal measure of pride or ambition either.
"No other gala will match that of my Phaedra's first," Casina reassured herself quietly, turning from the mountain scenery at the last to resume her preparations. Despite being ahead of schedule, there was still much work to do if she meant to have the Estate properly dressed for the dignitaries planning to attend. According to the Estate's historian, no single planned Summit meeting had ever seen so many foreign dignitaries from around the world preparing to attend as would this particular gathering. It was a testament to the work of her and her staff in setting things up, but it was also a testament to the Evenguard's renewed attention on foreign affairs. For years, the Colossus had slumbered in blissful ignorance, but those days were rapidly closing.
"You know," a voice called out from ahead of her on the patio, "all this walking is tough on an old bastard."
The inflection, to say nothing of the verbiage betrayed the speaker before Casina had even picked him out of the crowd. Soon enough though, Oleg Korzakhov separated himself from a throng of attendants and stewards arranging the décor in the garden, his button up shirt partially-soaked with perspiration. He'd also found a way to stain his khaki pleats with paint, most certainly from the Cubiculo, which was undergoing renovations in preparation for the festivities at Praeclarus. The old man had been more active physically since his physician had instructed him to give up the alcohol and drugs, and the cavorting with women. Of course, those in the know held no illusions to what had really happened, but despite his reputation, he still carried great respect at Praeclarus.
No need to embarrass him for having been ordered by Phaedra to straighten up and fly right...
"Hail, Serr Korzakhov," Casina addressed him politely, taking her clipboard and handing it to a passing attendant trying to lug a utility crate full of electrical wiring down to the fountain below her. "You look well today!"
"Oh, put a lid on it, you Krytopian sock puppet," Oleg fired off at her in faux-disgust, wiping beading sweat from an arched eyebrow. "Phaedra wanted me to check in with you, and see if you needed any help in the garden."
"Out here? No, I think we have things covered," Casina replied, crossing her arms expectantly. "Though if you wanted to take over for me and see to the décor in the main atrium, that would be absolutely lovely!"
Korzakhov wasted no time in scoffing. "To Hell with you, I'm going to eat a doughnut."
"Keep it up, old man," Arcadius laughed, pointing towards his belly, which had been quietly expanding in lieu of his sexual appetite's deprivation. "You'll get the doctor onto you about your blood pressure if you aren't careful."
"High blood pressure is all that I have left to look forward to," Oleg rasped, coughing into his hand. "I've been smoking cigarettes for so long, my lungs think an extended walk is a form of torture. They're not wrong, either."
"You'll find your sea legs soon enough," Casina reassured him. The old man wasn't nearly as convinced.
"That's what Phaedra said to me earlier. I think you're both full of shit."
"Speaking of," Casina changed the subject, using his wisecrack to segue into a matter which had been pressing on her, "Phaedra hasn't come to do her tour of the gardens yet. You wouldn't happen to know what she's doing, would you? We are doing the best we can, but we can't finalize things without her approval."
Oleg motioned up towards the balcony of the Estate's second floor, pointing. "See for yourself."
Casina stole a look up towards the terrace, which adjoined to Phaedra's private study. The Imperatrix was standing there, staring off into the distance, gazing upon the same mountain vista that Casina had stolen a glance at not five minutes before. But whereas Casina was marveling at the majesty of Praeclarus and its surroundings, Phaedra was considerably less moved. In its place, even from that distance, was the clear etchings of distress and worry. It was a painful look, marked by abject grief, as if she was mourning the loss of a dear friend or loved one. Phaedra was the epitome of strength and perseverance to her people; to see her suffering so mightily in grief... It was beyond all manner of recompense. Phaedra was hurting, and there was nothing that could be done to alleviate her burden.
Mistress, why do you torture yourself so?
Casina frowned deeply, turning back to Oleg. "She's still nervous, isn't she?"
Oleg shrugged. "Wouldn't you be, if you were prepared to turn the world upside down?"
Casina Arcadius stood momentarily at a narrow wooden footbridge which led into a forested area of the garden, heading further beside the creek as it swelled into a mountain stream through a cut in the valley. By her last check, the groundskeepers were ahead of schedule decorating the garden patio for the formal reception after the gala in the main hall, affording her a few moments to appreciate the view she had come to neglect in her duties at Praeclarus. Tsyion was an amazingly beautiful city, nestled in the midst of Serenity Valley, surrounded by the rustic charm of the Palisades in all their glory. Such a shame that her duties kept her inside most days, away from the vibrancy of Praeclarus and all that it had to offer. If only the money weren't so good...
Who the Hell am I kidding? The money's great...
The attaché shook her head, sighing, already bored with her musings. It wasn't as if the gardeners were paid slave wages, of course: there were far worse things in life than to be under the charge of Phaedra's estate, in any capacity. And though she missed the little things in life, her work in the Evenguard had borne much fruit for the Imperium. As a virtual help-meet for the Imperatrix, Casina had become as indispensable to Phaedra as had Oleg Korzakhov and John Cailean, albeit in her own unique way. Her invaluable service to Phaedra had blessed her with the privilege of being the first non-Azur to ever plan a decennial celebration for a Phaedra. It was an honor she took very seriously, not just because of a personal measure of pride or ambition either.
"No other gala will match that of my Phaedra's first," Casina reassured herself quietly, turning from the mountain scenery at the last to resume her preparations. Despite being ahead of schedule, there was still much work to do if she meant to have the Estate properly dressed for the dignitaries planning to attend. According to the Estate's historian, no single planned Summit meeting had ever seen so many foreign dignitaries from around the world preparing to attend as would this particular gathering. It was a testament to the work of her and her staff in setting things up, but it was also a testament to the Evenguard's renewed attention on foreign affairs. For years, the Colossus had slumbered in blissful ignorance, but those days were rapidly closing.
"You know," a voice called out from ahead of her on the patio, "all this walking is tough on an old bastard."
The inflection, to say nothing of the verbiage betrayed the speaker before Casina had even picked him out of the crowd. Soon enough though, Oleg Korzakhov separated himself from a throng of attendants and stewards arranging the décor in the garden, his button up shirt partially-soaked with perspiration. He'd also found a way to stain his khaki pleats with paint, most certainly from the Cubiculo, which was undergoing renovations in preparation for the festivities at Praeclarus. The old man had been more active physically since his physician had instructed him to give up the alcohol and drugs, and the cavorting with women. Of course, those in the know held no illusions to what had really happened, but despite his reputation, he still carried great respect at Praeclarus.
No need to embarrass him for having been ordered by Phaedra to straighten up and fly right...
"Hail, Serr Korzakhov," Casina addressed him politely, taking her clipboard and handing it to a passing attendant trying to lug a utility crate full of electrical wiring down to the fountain below her. "You look well today!"
"Oh, put a lid on it, you Krytopian sock puppet," Oleg fired off at her in faux-disgust, wiping beading sweat from an arched eyebrow. "Phaedra wanted me to check in with you, and see if you needed any help in the garden."
"Out here? No, I think we have things covered," Casina replied, crossing her arms expectantly. "Though if you wanted to take over for me and see to the décor in the main atrium, that would be absolutely lovely!"
Korzakhov wasted no time in scoffing. "To Hell with you, I'm going to eat a doughnut."
"Keep it up, old man," Arcadius laughed, pointing towards his belly, which had been quietly expanding in lieu of his sexual appetite's deprivation. "You'll get the doctor onto you about your blood pressure if you aren't careful."
"High blood pressure is all that I have left to look forward to," Oleg rasped, coughing into his hand. "I've been smoking cigarettes for so long, my lungs think an extended walk is a form of torture. They're not wrong, either."
"You'll find your sea legs soon enough," Casina reassured him. The old man wasn't nearly as convinced.
"That's what Phaedra said to me earlier. I think you're both full of shit."
"Speaking of," Casina changed the subject, using his wisecrack to segue into a matter which had been pressing on her, "Phaedra hasn't come to do her tour of the gardens yet. You wouldn't happen to know what she's doing, would you? We are doing the best we can, but we can't finalize things without her approval."
Oleg motioned up towards the balcony of the Estate's second floor, pointing. "See for yourself."
Casina stole a look up towards the terrace, which adjoined to Phaedra's private study. The Imperatrix was standing there, staring off into the distance, gazing upon the same mountain vista that Casina had stolen a glance at not five minutes before. But whereas Casina was marveling at the majesty of Praeclarus and its surroundings, Phaedra was considerably less moved. In its place, even from that distance, was the clear etchings of distress and worry. It was a painful look, marked by abject grief, as if she was mourning the loss of a dear friend or loved one. Phaedra was the epitome of strength and perseverance to her people; to see her suffering so mightily in grief... It was beyond all manner of recompense. Phaedra was hurting, and there was nothing that could be done to alleviate her burden.
Mistress, why do you torture yourself so?
Casina frowned deeply, turning back to Oleg. "She's still nervous, isn't she?"
Oleg shrugged. "Wouldn't you be, if you were prepared to turn the world upside down?"
~
The commotion below her balcony was frivolity in the grand scheme of things. She supposed that there was some obligation to sign off on whatever it was that they were doing in preparation for the diplomatic gathering, but frankly, she couldn't muster the energy to care. There were far more important things than gauging whether the color of the carpet or the positioning of the lighting was proper to her tastes. She had no taste for decorations right now, only the bittersweet anguish of a lurid truth which produced a stink in her nostrils that made her want to wretch. So much was about to be accomplished, visceral and poignant simultaneously, and her words would stand as the epicenter for it all. She had never despised a task as much as she had come to despise this one.
And it isn't even upon me, yet.
Calixte breathed in deeply, trying to center herself in the moment, shedding the unwanted feelings, finding herself longing for the embrace of Silvier more and more each passing day. Though Caesar was assuredly in the air and en route to Kinseleagh as she stood there, the distance between them was making the breadth of her charge that much more daunting. For the time being, she was very much alone in her thoughts, and the thoughts weren't good. On the contrary, they were a vicious and foreboding storm of emotions that threatened to rent her from top to bottom, casting away all of her pomp, the carefully-constructed veneer which separated the Phaedra from the woman. Here, in the quiet solitude of her private abode, she was laid naked and exposed before the world.
Things had not gone according to plan for Calixte in the last two weeks, and though she had made every attempt to make the best of the situation, Phaedra was rapidly losing her patience. The various machinations of her charge had blitzed her from all sides, keeping her running to and fro, trying to ensure that every full measure was engaged. The Karajaani situation had left her reeling, though, beyond all normal bounds, and with her sister now in transit towards the beleaguered aisle, attempting to accomplish in peace what Calixte had cause to go to war for, things felt as though they were out of her control. Her right hand man had accompanied her sister as part of the envoy, further exposing her to the political winds in Tsyion. She needed her bulwarks, her pillars of strength about her.
What you need is to remember who you are, a firm voice in her mind reprimanded her, chiding her lack of faith. You have the power of a thousand suns resting in your soul, Shroudlure. Have faith, and accomplish.
Calixte ran her finger along the stone balustrade, tracing the edge. "I have no faith left."
Then you must find it, Shroudlure. Your Children depend on it.
Each breath in was shallower than the last; the cool air intermixing with the fire burning inside her soul. The fear that had consumed her was blossoming into full-fledged anger, now; a vitriol that was churning inside of her. To what cause was she forced to rent the fabric of the Evenguard as it had existed? Were it now so grievous a sin to rest on complacency, that one was punished with the foreknowledge that countless lives were going to be altered? Was her punishment truly the work of just and benevolent forces in the universe? Caius Anaximander would certainly claim so, but Caius wasn't here, she was, and the steep price she was preparing to pay was wanton and grievous. The fear was not her true enemy; rather, it was injustice, naked and plain for all to see.
You must comply, Shroudlure.
"To Hell with you," Calixte spoke out loud, sneering. "To Hell with everything; I'll do as I please—"
"Beg your pardon, m'lady?" The voice of her servant, Maranthe pierced the quiet of her solitude. Calixte spun on her heels quickly, the look of surprise etched across her face. She hadn't even heard her approach from the study...
"I am so sorry, mistress, I meant not to alarm—"
"What do you want?" Calixte barked, a new ferocity in her voice from before.
"Madam Arcadius and Serr Korzakhov wish to speak with you at your convenience, m'lady."
Calixte glared at her. "Tell them Phaedra will speak with them shortly."
"Yes, ma'am," her servant meekly replied. "By your grace, m'lady."
Phaedra watched as her servant quickly departed the terrace, leaving back through the study from whence she'd came. All manner of self-doubt and pity had evaporated in a firestorm of bitter rage and frustration. There was no supreme force compelling her to a predetermined fate; she made her own fate, and it was high time that she accepted that truth. The myth that her Children were going to suffer fate as it extracted ts measure of flesh, satiating itself on the blood of her people was folly. No, her Children were going to enjoy the fruits of her labor, and enjoy themselves with their Phaedra shepherding them to a brighter tomorrow. This summit meeting, this gathering... it wasn't her curse, it was her blessing. It was a chance to show off her country before the world.
There's nothing that you can't handle...
Calixte smiled, content with her internalizing. There was no need for worry; everything else was of no consequence. It could be dealt with later, when things were calm. The Summit gathering was going to go off without a hitch.
And it isn't even upon me, yet.
Calixte breathed in deeply, trying to center herself in the moment, shedding the unwanted feelings, finding herself longing for the embrace of Silvier more and more each passing day. Though Caesar was assuredly in the air and en route to Kinseleagh as she stood there, the distance between them was making the breadth of her charge that much more daunting. For the time being, she was very much alone in her thoughts, and the thoughts weren't good. On the contrary, they were a vicious and foreboding storm of emotions that threatened to rent her from top to bottom, casting away all of her pomp, the carefully-constructed veneer which separated the Phaedra from the woman. Here, in the quiet solitude of her private abode, she was laid naked and exposed before the world.
Things had not gone according to plan for Calixte in the last two weeks, and though she had made every attempt to make the best of the situation, Phaedra was rapidly losing her patience. The various machinations of her charge had blitzed her from all sides, keeping her running to and fro, trying to ensure that every full measure was engaged. The Karajaani situation had left her reeling, though, beyond all normal bounds, and with her sister now in transit towards the beleaguered aisle, attempting to accomplish in peace what Calixte had cause to go to war for, things felt as though they were out of her control. Her right hand man had accompanied her sister as part of the envoy, further exposing her to the political winds in Tsyion. She needed her bulwarks, her pillars of strength about her.
What you need is to remember who you are, a firm voice in her mind reprimanded her, chiding her lack of faith. You have the power of a thousand suns resting in your soul, Shroudlure. Have faith, and accomplish.
Calixte ran her finger along the stone balustrade, tracing the edge. "I have no faith left."
Then you must find it, Shroudlure. Your Children depend on it.
Each breath in was shallower than the last; the cool air intermixing with the fire burning inside her soul. The fear that had consumed her was blossoming into full-fledged anger, now; a vitriol that was churning inside of her. To what cause was she forced to rent the fabric of the Evenguard as it had existed? Were it now so grievous a sin to rest on complacency, that one was punished with the foreknowledge that countless lives were going to be altered? Was her punishment truly the work of just and benevolent forces in the universe? Caius Anaximander would certainly claim so, but Caius wasn't here, she was, and the steep price she was preparing to pay was wanton and grievous. The fear was not her true enemy; rather, it was injustice, naked and plain for all to see.
You must comply, Shroudlure.
"To Hell with you," Calixte spoke out loud, sneering. "To Hell with everything; I'll do as I please—"
"Beg your pardon, m'lady?" The voice of her servant, Maranthe pierced the quiet of her solitude. Calixte spun on her heels quickly, the look of surprise etched across her face. She hadn't even heard her approach from the study...
"I am so sorry, mistress, I meant not to alarm—"
"What do you want?" Calixte barked, a new ferocity in her voice from before.
"Madam Arcadius and Serr Korzakhov wish to speak with you at your convenience, m'lady."
Calixte glared at her. "Tell them Phaedra will speak with them shortly."
"Yes, ma'am," her servant meekly replied. "By your grace, m'lady."
Phaedra watched as her servant quickly departed the terrace, leaving back through the study from whence she'd came. All manner of self-doubt and pity had evaporated in a firestorm of bitter rage and frustration. There was no supreme force compelling her to a predetermined fate; she made her own fate, and it was high time that she accepted that truth. The myth that her Children were going to suffer fate as it extracted ts measure of flesh, satiating itself on the blood of her people was folly. No, her Children were going to enjoy the fruits of her labor, and enjoy themselves with their Phaedra shepherding them to a brighter tomorrow. This summit meeting, this gathering... it wasn't her curse, it was her blessing. It was a chance to show off her country before the world.
There's nothing that you can't handle...
Calixte smiled, content with her internalizing. There was no need for worry; everything else was of no consequence. It could be dealt with later, when things were calm. The Summit gathering was going to go off without a hitch.