(1502) Scourging Assemble
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THREADID
48
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Gyges had arrived early, so when Avis first opened the door, he was there and ready to get to work. The Councilor had not asked him to set anything up, but he had brought a number of extra pens, which were tucked safely away in a pocket. "Avis," he says as his greeting, giving her a respectful nod.
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Namkha heard about Sacramento having some crazy ideas for architecture, but she tended to shrug it off. Really, not many things can trump a giant bridge probably containing a shard of the Celestial Ladder, created to tame a big-ass Abyssal Node. So when she heard about the replica of Westminster, she just ignored it.
Seeing it up close, after arriving just a few minutes after Gyges, made her make a stop for a few seconds. It was damn impressive, she had to admit, but it also said "screw subtlety in the face" quite loudly, so out of the place it was. Namkha wondered what kind of people were owning it. And organizing the meeting of Mastigoi here? That's... interesting.
The Asian approaches the woman standing by the door, a nod offered to the man. "Are you Avis, possibly? I was told there's a meeting here."
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"Hey Gyges," Avis replied, tone subdued. Her face seemed blank as she stepped back, opening the door enough so that he could step into the Circle of Creation once more.
The woman who next approached was given a thorough once over, the Councilor's eyes seeming to focus on her wrists, waistband, pockets, and ankles. Her face was last, a cursory glance aside.
"Yes. I'm Avis. Councilor for the Path of Scourging, First Talon of the Ungula Draconis. You are?" Dull green eyes stared flatly at the other woman, the Councilor's mouth an inexpressive line.
If Namkha is hiding weapons, let's trade rolls.
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I forgot - Third Eye (Pot 1), cast at home
"Namkha, of the Path of Scourging, Visus Draconis. Recently arrived from San Francisco. I hope you don't mind if I join the meeting? While I'm not the part of the Consilium, I got clear through the talk with miss Asp, and I'd like to take a look at the Charter and Lex... and personally, to not be a stranger."
The tall woman calmly allows the look-over. She's dressed sharp and most of her clothes are fitted and leave little space to hide anything; only her jacket and handbag could, but Namkha doesn't even move like she had something to hide.
"May I pass?"
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A corner of the councilor's mouth twitched and she maintained her stare. A gust of wind blew past Namkha, rustling her clothes lightly as she stood on the doorstep.
"That would be Sentinel Asp," Avis corrected, finally speaking, though still blocking the doorway. After that she lapsed into silence again and time began to pass them by. Eventually, the Councilor seemed to reach a decision and her eyes narrowed.
"I don't know what you hope to accomplish here, Namkha of the Golden Consilium," Avis said, spite dripping from her voice. "You represent facist murderers who have attempted to sabotage a sovereign Consilium who they hold no jurisdiction over. Yet, knowing all this, here you come to that same sovereign Consilium, 'all tralala show me the charter!'" she mocked, hands drifting up, fingers doing their own spiteful dance.
"What, exactly, makes you think you would be welcome here?"
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Please, not again.
For most of the Avis' speech, Namkha doesn't change. Not the slightest move, just a slight expression of... disappointment.
When the Councilor is done, the Asian reaches to her handbag, but what she takes away isn't any kind of weapon. It's not even mace or pepper spray. Not even a letter or butter knife.
It's an orange juice box.
When Namkha speaks, it's in a calm, soft voice, but there's a precise edge somewhere in there, if anybody cared to listen.
"I don't expect to be welcomed. I don't expect to be welcomed anywhere. It comes with the Order." With precise moves, the straw is unwrapped and tucked into the box, the wrap lands in the Guardian's handbag. "What I expect is reason and dignity, especially from the Councilor of the Warlocks, so would you mind to stop acting like that? I'm embarrassed to even look."
Note to self - more magnesium in the diet - starting to be too honest.
"As I said, I went through the security clearance of Herald Zodiac and Sentinel Asp - and I'm clean, else I wouldn't even be here. I don't know if your charter is top secret, but where I come from, the guests are made to take a look at the law, so they don't have a chance to use the excuse of not knowing the rules when they break them. As they didn't tell me what's forbidden and what isn't, I wanted to make sure I won't break any laws by accident."
"Also, as fascist murderers, in San Francisco we scoff at having in our city people going around without having any means of control over them, even as simple as making sure our members know their faces. It makes murdering them a lot easier when they make trouble for us."
The Guardian sips a bit of juice.
"Of course, if you'd like it better, I will turn around and go away, uncontrolled." A light shrug follows the last sentence.
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Gyges tenses up when the Guardian reaches into her handbag. "Guest Namkha, I'm going to kindly suggest you don't reach into pockets and purses when confronted by an angry Arrow for the same reason you don't do it with police." You're liable to get shot.
"I didn't see you at the main part of the last meeting, but you can save the cheap shots about the Charter since that's what we are all here to discuss, as soon as the rest of the Warlocks show up." He adds cooly to the Guardian.
Namkha's final comment comes off as almost spiteful, like the Guardian is trying to chide them for seeing her as a threat. "It's unreasonable to fault the people in this city for holding your loyalties against you considering the history of the Consilium, especially when your Guardians are known for murdering most of the Arrows of your city. Threatening to go off and hide in the city won't help your case at all. What would help is if you provide some assurance that you aren't a threat."
"I have a pocket knife. You could willingly give Sentinel Avis or myself a sample of your blood and your Real Name, if you want to show the Consilium that you aren't here as a threat."
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The urge to snap at the Spy again was abruptly curbed, not by her own will, but by the intrusion of another voice, another presence in the conflict. She was surprised by the Provost's words. Not by how reasonable they sounded, but by how deftly they turned the words of the Spy against her.
"Alright," Avis said, stepping back. "On three conditions. One: you finish that outside and then keep the trash with you. I specifically said no food in the meeting announcement. Then, two: you agree to give up blood or hair and your true name. And, third, you give up all your expectations. I don't give a fuck if you're embarrassed."
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Watch - hypocrisy at work. They'd never know if I didn't even tell them, those fools.
"I can't help it if you don't trust both your Herald and Sentinel, Mister Unknown, Councilor Avis."
Which is a good thing to note. Distrust - they didn't trust Councilors - Councilors don't trust them. Openly.
Note for self-reflection - reasons for Dal Riata's failure in such a city.
"Expectations are easy, juice even more, but would you give up your blood and True Name to someone who hates you? Even Golden Consilium doesn't use such methods." Or at least it would make the attempt more subtle. For a second she counts in mind how many people knew her True Name, and the number doesn't exceed five. No harm in not reaching this number too soon. "For you, the best I can offer is Swearing An Oath, and giving up my True Name to the Epopt. Maybe the Hierarch, if he chooses so. Not you. Of course, if you don't agree to that, I'll walk away. Or you kill me. If so, just please give me time to finish my juice."
She calmly continues to drink the juice as if it was some kind of ritual.
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