Graves and the Reeve

[Josephine Sterling]

In her office beneath pulsating flesh of the Kine trundling about in the Nox Populii, Josephine waited for the newest Lady who had arrived in Sacramento. A single lamp illuminated the office. The one concession to decorum the Reeve had provided for the unknown Demon. Their conversation, though brief, had left much to be desired. Josephine was quite curious whether this Graves would be able to rectify that.

[Cabochard]

-1 Vitae for Blush

Graves had made an effort to be presentable, by her own standards - though of course Graves' standards were quite a bit under those of average people. The clothes she'd picked didn't look like she'd dragged them out from a dumpster, at least. Instead, they looked like she'd gotten them third-hand from Goodwill. A definite improvement.

It took some time, and quite a bit of wandering, for her to track down the Reeve's office, but once she found it, she knocked and pushed the door open immediately. The sight of Josephine there, froze Graves in the entryway. Everything about the situation yelled at her to run. She was meeting a complete stranger, in a basement office, she didn't even have her knife with her...she should run. Maybe she could make it outside before the Reeve caught her.

Graves pushed those thoughts aside a moment later, though she kept herself on the ready to bolt. A step took her inside, and she raised her hand at the same moment. "Yo. You're Josephine Sterling, right? Wouldn't want to start talking, then find out I had the wrong office all along."

[Josephine Sterling]

The Reeve regarded the seemingly young kindred coolly, a vicious wrath rising in her breast to batter her ribs, a rage demanding blood like Treshchenkov had on the banks of the Lena river. But, as with the Lena Massacre, it was a callous rage. One easily dismissed.

"You are correct," Josephine answered finally. "Come in. Take a seat."

The Reeve considered also demanding to be addressed by her title, but such would invariably drown whatever tone this freshblooded demon might set, and Josephine was most curious what tone that might be.

"Interesting word, 'yo,'" she added then, her tone casual. "It's a word that is easily understood, yet it is a word which lacks no firm meaning. Rather it is merely a sound which signals a request for attention. It is not unique in this, however. Old English had a similar word. 'Hwaet'. It was also a greeting and a request for attention, though unlike 'yo' it was not considered informal. Perhaps, one day, 'yo' no longer will be, either. I assume you would be more comfortable upon that day, wouldn't you?"

[Cabochard]

Graves did as the Reeve said and took a seat across the desk from her. She took a quick second to size up the Reeve. She didn't know much about her, beyond that she had killed someone for apparently-petty reasons, and could therefore probably be classified as 'crazy'. And should also probably not be disagreed with, even if what she said seemed a lot like a weird question to ask.

"Uh, I guess? I mean, I just say it 'cause it's quicker than 'hey' by, like, a millisecond, and, I dunno, sounds a bit better?" Graves crossed her legs, crossed her arms, and watched Josephine carefully, like a cat might watch a person who just barged into its room. "That's kind of, uh, a weird thing to ask, isn't it? I mean, do the origins of 'yo' matter, right now?"

[Josephine Sterling]

"All words matter," the Reeve replied sternly. "Something I hope you begin to realize during your stay here. But, because your imbecilic question has made me curious, what, in this moment, do you believe matters?"

Josephine assumed the other Demon's answer would be 'me, myself, and I', but perhaps the yapping thing would have a better answer.

[Cabochard]

Graves frowned, her eyes narrowing as a result. In Graves' estimation, calling it a stupid question was just an overreaction. Maybe the Reeve was just pissed about someone calling her out about going off on a tangent. Maybe she was getting old, and it was affecting her. It was always sad when the elders started spouting nonsense and getting sore when somebody asked about it. Well, not sad, really. Scary, maybe. Definitely annoying.

"Well, I figure, what matters right now, this very second, is whether or not you trust me enough to, y'know, let me un-live," Ha, mental high-five, "in this Domain. Or, well, if you don't, then what matters is what you want to know that might make you trust me. Then, I guess, what matters next is whether everybody else trusts you enough to believe your word that I'm not dangerous, if you decide to tell them that. Which, I mean, you'd think was a given, with you being all important and everything, but you can never really assume, can you?"

Big, goofy smile. Graves wasn't dumb - well, not usually - but since she'd apparently already made the Reeve think she was, she might as well capitalize on it. Maybe seeming like a harmless little lump of flesh would help, here.

[Josephine Sterling]

That response certainly caused the Reeve's sable brows to rise...in incredulity. This mewling creature was choosing to directly challenge not just Josephine's authority, but her very standing in the Domain as well? That went beyond blunt, or bold, and entirely beyond the realm of naivety. Thus, it seemed that Josephine's first estimation of Graves had been wrong. It had been far too positive.

"No, you are correct, one should not assume," Josephine returned, "but how can you be certain that it is not you who are making assumptions?"

The Reeve didn't let the question hang, but instead cut off any chance for response with a curt shake of her raven dark head. "No, I'm uninterested your answer to such a question. Instead, answer me this: what Covenant do you proclaim allegiance to?"

[Cabochard]

Well, based on the woman's response, Graves hadn't completely screwed up her last answer. At least the new question was a bit less obviously-aggressive than the last one. Graves opened her mouth to answer, then, closed it when Josephine continued talking, and basically made the first time she'd asked a question, into a waste of time. But, hey, if she wanted to waste her own time with questions that wouldn't be answered, it was her loss. Graves had nowhere better to be.

Then, a new question came. "Riiight, that's an important one, right? Who I run with tells you what I think is important in our little world, or at least what I fight for. I'm with the Movement." Graves just kept right on smiling. Don't let them see you sweat. "And, before, y'know, you pull out my guts and use them for curtains, or whatever you did to that other dude? I got no plans to take over, or anything like that."

[Josephine Sterling]

Interesting. So it seemed that this charming social butterfly had already begun fluttering about, yet more than that, that she had already heard gossip about the Reeve. Perhaps that was where Grave's ill-conceived bravado had come from. For what else could inspire such a blithe attitude in the revolutionary little imp?

"You see," Josephine began again, "I would find it far simpler to trust that last claim of yours if you had not already expressed an unwillingness to accept the current structure of things. But, perhaps that is just due to a few unfortunate assumptions upon your part. So answer me this, what do you know about the position of Reeve? And the position of Priscus? How do you believe they are chosen, and how do you believe they should be chosen?"

[Cabochard]

Graves paused, a confused look popping up on her face. When had she said she wasn't going to accept the way of the world? Maybe she'd said something wrong. Maybe she'd used words together that added up to some local slang for 'I'm going to start a coup'. In any case, too late now. Best she could do was try to let Miss Paranoia forget about it.

And the best way to do that was to keep answering questions! "Well, Reeve's a fancy Invictus word for Sheriff. I dunno the origin, or anything, but I do know that they're supposed to make sure the Prince's laws are enforced, and what he wants to happen, happens. They're usually picked because the scariest bastard in town, besides the Prince." She knew a few other methods of selection but, hey, best not to insult the First Estate's credibility, right?

"The Priscus, or Priscii, when there's more than one." Somebody knew basic conjugation. "They run and represent the Clans. Every one is picked differently, but it's usually, y'know, based on a consensus of their Clan's members in the city. Usually it's more a, uh, how'd you say...de facto position, than an official one, when the largest-and-in-chargest member of the Clan comes out and starts bossing the others around."

"I don't really have anything against how they're picked - I mean, it's the best way to get the right guys for the job, I figure. Sometimes takes a bit of yelling and hitting people with sharp things to get it done, but in the end you know whoever's running the show earned it."