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Thread: Consequences

  1. #1
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    Complete Consequences

    It didn't matter what title came before Salem Ave's name.

    No honorific in the Galaxy would convince the Chume'doro to admit him before the Hapan Queen with any amount of speed. Since the attempted assassination of the young Queen and her Regent, the layers of security between the Hapan population at large and their monarch had become so deep and dense that Salem realised he had found it easier to acquire an audience with Empress Miranda Tarkin.

    When he was finally permitted entrance, a compliment of statuesque women formed a box around him ushered him into the presence of the Regent. Their ostentatious blue and gold armour was completely at odds with Salem's dark suit. He had foregone the Onderonian half-cloak that had so long been a fixture of his wardrobe during visits to the Consortium. Instead, his only accessory was a lapel pin in the shape of the Alliance Starbird.

    “Your majesty,” he said, an unusual note of uncertainty in his voice as his white eyes shifted between the figures of the Chume'doro encircling him.

  2. #2
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    The Queen Regent sat upon a high backed gilded chair, the padding of which matched the blue in the uniforms of the officers standing at extreme attention around her person. A commoner might refer to the shade as 'royal blue' incurring the disdain of all the native persons present. It was Hapan blue. A shade distinctive among it's cerulean peers. The parlor housing Chume'la Alastor today was a far cry from the throne room of the Fountain Palace. While no less resplendent, it was not missed that the reason for the altered setting was the defacement of the throne of Ereneda.

    Queen of Lies...

    Bejeweled fingers flexed, tapping perfectly manicured nails atop the arm of the chair as the Minister of the Alliance of Free Planets was brought in to her, under heavy escort. That same hand motioned, and a path was carved between herself and the Arkanian representative. He was allowed no closer, but at least there were no towering women between their line of sight.

    Amethyst eyes narrowed slightly, suspiciously. "Minister Ave."
    Last edited by Razielle Alastor; May 11th, 2016 at 11:14:12 AM.

  3. #3
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    In the antechamber that had preceded the Queen Regent's current residence, the Minister's own escort of guards - four representatives from the species of the Alliance, including a Hapan - were being obstructed from doing their job. Salem thought he could hear the blustering voice of the Mon Calamari who made up one quarter of the group. Salem, long-practised at schooling his expression into one of cool detachment, did not appear to react to the small commotion outside. Instead, he dipped his head to the enthroned Queen Regent.

    "May I speak with your majesty privately?"

    His white eyes shifted between the perfect, impassive faces of the Chume'doro.

    "I have a matter of some... delicacy to discuss."

  4. #4
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    The Regent did not betray any outward sign of emotion at the request. As cold and impassive as a marble bust, she considered her answer. On Onderon, when Princess Razielle had needed to speak privately with Salem Ave, it was as simple as arranging a social visit. Or by the arts of the Dark side, Callidus could simply have implanted the suggestion that everyone should suddenly depart the room. Hapes was not Onderon though. The Hapan people had grown mistrustful of Force users over the reigns of many Queen Mothers. They had learned to adapt to suggestion in most cases, as they were not a weak minded people. Their intrigues and influence, their assassinations and quest for perfection had made them quite sharp. Still, there was one authority they did not question - at least not openly.

    Again her hand lifted from where it rested against the carved golden arm of the chair. Two slender fingers adorned with rings gestured to her right. As one, the Chume'doro guard around her placed gauntlet-clad fists against their armored breasts, bowing their heads before moving quietly toward the side exit of the parlor. Two of them hesitated, unsure whether or not now was the best time to leave their Regent unprotected in the presence of an off world Minister, no matter their previous familiarity prior to Chume'la's life on Hapes. It took one glance, one slight shifting of her violet eyes, before they too knew that she would not be questioned about this..

    The doors closed behind the stately female guards, granting them temporary privacy.

  5. #5
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    He watched them go, wondering if the flicker of hesitation he had seen in the guards eyes was the first true hint of rebellion that he had seen in the Chume'doro. He didn't smirk, not quite. To think that it had taken an 'assassination attempt' to bring them to this, after they had allowed the likes of Salem Ave to have almost free roam of the Fountain Palace. Salem, the man who had carved Queen of Lies at the foot of the Hapan throne.

    "From one gilded cage to another," he observed, now that they were alone.

    "Do they stand at your bed-side while you sleep?"

  6. #6
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    There was a slight raising of one eyebrow. An expression clearly begging the question: Who put me here?

    It was an old grievance by now. Razielle's personal displeasure about her very well appointed cage had never mattered before, and she saw no reason to believe that anything had changed now. One would think that after years of being prodded by the same man, she might have toughened up her armor a bit. So she had, or at least appeared to. Her reply when it came was caustic at best.

    "At my bed side? No.. I just have them join me. It's a little uncomfortable, what with all the armor, but you get used to it."

  7. #7
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    The Chume'doro and the Chume'nor could hardly bring themselves to look directly at their Chume'a, let alone risk the prospect of touching her. Such was their devotion to the idea that the throne belonged to a holy creature and by extension, that made Razielle divine, the mother of a goddess.

    Regrettably, some of the people of the Consortium were fickle in the faith.

    "You are leaving Hapes."

  8. #8
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    Whatever personal pleasure she had derived from her sarcastic reply to Salem, it vanished at his next words. Mild confusion wrinkled her brow momentarily as her mind attempted to keep up with his logic. Leave Hapes? Probably not very far.

    "Oh? Is Chume'la being sent off to Terephon to recover from her ordeal?"

  9. #9
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    The Minister's head and eyes dipped. "Indeed. Fatigue and a sudden bout of a suspicious illness are going to drive the Chume'la into isolation."

    Salem paused, listening to the muted sound of a rather vocal disagreement taking place outside of the chamber's doors. He lifted his gaze back to the Queen Regent's defiant, violet stare. The hollows of Salem's eyes darkened.

    "Anxia, on the other hand, has a great deal to attend to."

  10. #10
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    At Salem's 'Indeed.' Razielle's steady gaze might have rolled upward, accompanied by a sigh. She knew it. Packed off to Terephon. Villa Solis was lovely, no doubt, but a bog was a bog. The only ones who would be excited at the prospect of a holiday there would be Beatrix, who would do as she pleased, mud pies and all, and Lira.. who would be in her element having been brought up on Onderon.

    The disagreement outside was beginning to get on Chume'la's nerves. Whatever petty squabble was behind the commotion though was forgotten when Salem looked back up at her, and his eyes changed.

    Upon the pretty scrolled arms of the chair, her fingers tightened.

    In response to the new direction of their conversation, one corner of her mouth began to upturn into the beginnings of slight smirk. Much, much better..

  11. #11
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    Without even a gesture to signify what power was at work, Salem pulled the Force around the two of them like a cloak. Should any curious ear be pressed to the door at that moment, they would hear the muted discussion of the Queen Regent and the Minister not as it was, but as they expected it to be: banal and political.

    "There is dissension in the Consortium."

    That was hardly a surprise to anyone who had the faintest notion of the Hapan way of life. Dynasties rose and fell on the turn of a well-placed knife in the back.

    "It is time we continued your training... and the squabbling noble Houses will be ideal tests of your skill."

  12. #12
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    The shroud of the Force slid around them both, teasing at her senses. Conjured by her master's command, and empowered by his distinctive presence, the effect on Anxia was nothing less then the pleasure-pain of cool silk sheets running over exposed, overstimulated flesh. Her head tipped to the side, just a fraction, eyes drifting closed for a brief second of indulgence.

    "Dissension..." Her eyes opened. The Regent had not moved. Her hands remained upon the arms of the chair. Her spine straight in the seat, and her posture gave nothing away. Yet, the growl behind her words made lies of her calm.

    "Yes, those who question the legitimacy of Beatrix as Queen Mother. I have heard.. There is a Hapan proverb I have found most inspiring for them. 'Severed tongues seldom wag.'."

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    “We can't behead every noblewoman who disagrees with us.”

    There was an edge of the sardonic to the Arkanian's voice. Ishara Alastor had been an exceptional case, a means to an otherwise unattainable end. With slow steps, Salem approached the Regent's chair, boldly climbing the steps that set her above others.

    “The Consortium cannot be ruled by fear. Every ta'din, ducha and dukana in the Cluster will demand the closure of their sovereign borders.”

  14. #14
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    Anxia was pretty sure that, 'Yeah, she could.' cut off the exquisitely painted head of any Hapan bitch that pushed her too far. She would not lose sleep over a few snicked off here and there, exotic flowers blooming at their prime. A bouquet just for her.

    Wisely, she kept her pretty mouth shut about it all the same. Other plans were already in motion, as always.

    With his proximity growing closer by the second, so grew the crooked, completely wicked grin on the Regent's upturned face. While she had still not moved from the seat, the fingers of her left hand had lifted from their gilded resting place. It was an urge she had to fight to control at the best of times. To close the distance between them, let the connection that Salem had bound them with yank her forward violently, heedless of the cost. When it was just the two of them, and it was Callidus who spoke, it only became that much harder to keep the Queen Regent of Hapes in control.

    "They do not get to make demands.."

    Despite her personal desire to eliminate anyone who would threaten her daughter's claim, Razielle did understand how this game was played. They could have what they wanted without painting the throne of Ereneda in shades of red.
    Last edited by Razielle Alastor; May 23rd, 2016 at 11:27:18 AM.

  15. #15
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    “But I do.”

    The mask did not mist into place over Salem's features, but the face looking down at Anxia now - stood in front of her makeshift throne - was surely that of her master. Callidus touched the clawed tip of one finger to her chin, lifting it a fraction.

    “You must remember that what happened to Beatrix's predecessor was not an anomalous occurrence. She needs allies, not enemies.”

  16. #16
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    Beatrix having allies did not worry her mother overmuch. To be around the tiny monarch was to love her. Four years in existence and she seemed to carry around the wisdom of the ages. In a vial... right next to multi-colored glitter for her artwork.

    Her face turned obediently upward, the muscles of her neck suddenly languid beneath the touch she most desired. Yet something still burned like defiance behind her gem like eyes.

    "And that's where you want me to go? To find our daughter some allies?"

  17. #17
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    The look in her eyes was one he knew all too well.

    "You do not approve."

    He paced further forward, walking along and then behind the Queen Regent's chair. As he walked, he dragged his clawed fingertip up the line of her jaw.

    "Tell me... how would you proceed?"

  18. #18
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    It was not that she did not approve. Her quiet, mutinous demeanor was not in response to any flaw in the plan to branch out and secure allies for Beatrix. The Hapan Queen needed strong Hapan allies, Razielle understood that. She was a princess born and raised. She knew how empires were made, or usurped. More importantly, he knew the specifics of her upbringing as well as she did.

    The facade of sedition glowing in her eyes like hot coals was something else entirely. It was part of her never ending need to hammer at the vexatiously collected exterior of Minister Ave. She was never truly happy unless she was hacking away at his carefully crafted, and always maintained, masks. Those other faces he wore around everyone else. Masks, both political and illusory. It was what was behind it all she wanted..

    It was all she could do to not curl her face into his hand like a kitten.

    "I need not to do anything at all.", she reported succinctly. "They will do it all themselves."

    Her smile only grew, anticipating the day. Chume'la Razielle had been sent to the Hapan court while Queen Mother Ishara had still ruled. She had been watching them, learning them all since then. The noblewomen of Hapes were whelped with a sense of entitlement, stretching back through their blood for generations. They were so assured of their unquestioned supremacy eventually they would become hasty..foolish. They would make costly mistakes.

    "I will find them a nice chain of gold, and they will hang themselves, one by one.."

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    A chuckle at that. He stood behind her now, a shadow whispering in the ear of the Queen Regent.

    “And who will... succumb to this inevitable fate first?”

  20. #20
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    His chuckle did not bother her. In the end, it would be she who let slip amused laughter, right over the remains of their enemies. She could not help but picture their lovely Hapan faces, tongues protruding, eyes shot through with blood where their lingering deaths had burst the delicate vessels. Oh yes.. She would have them, all of them, if they dared moved against her daughter.

    "Perhaps that Sarpin woman. At her age.. anything could happen."

    The Countess might take an unfortunate step, leading to a prolonged, violent tumble down a stair. Her head might even get turned around backward, one never knew about such things. "What a tragedy that would be...."

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