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| No title. |
| (2013-07-15 - Now) |
| No description. |
| Jihl Nabaat | The Palamecia is docked in Palumpolum again, once again undergoing a maintenance check as well as a general refitting and supply update. However, as nighttime falls on the ship, once again the only things on the ship are the very small security crews, and on the bridge, Jihl Nabaat. The sun has long faded away to night, and perched in the biggest chair in the room, the Lieutenant Colonel is lost in the depths of a datapad that she's checking paper reports alongside, frowning as she does so. It smells like decent-but-not-good takeout, as well. |
| Maximilien | It's a pretty ship. Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne is admittedly more fond of the dirigible sort of airship, but the Palamecia is pretty nice, as far as the magical sort goes. He's been over the ship at least twice on his own, without Jihl (or any of the guards) knowing - just to get a good look at it. Just in case. It never hurt to be prepared. The night was Max's, more than anyone could know. The phantom thief moved through the shadows like nobody else - he was the master of this time, and the jewels in his pocket, stolen from another world, were proof enough of that. He slips into the bridge silently as always, disturbing nothing as he moves over behind the biggest chair. Max's fingers dip down towards the datapad, to snag it out of her hands as he greets her with a kiss, one of the stolen jewels making its way into his other hand - and, eventually, onto her chest. "Bonsoir, amour," Max purrs. "Comment allez-vous?" |
| Jihl Nabaat | Her datapad stolen, Jihl looks up to get Max'd, both via a kiss and some very nicely purred French. She arches an eyebrow at him, even as she then looks down at feeling something where she normally doesn't have something perched, scoping out the jewel. "Good evening, Max." She says, before looking out the window. "... or, good early, early, early morning, Max." She mutters, mostly to herself. |
| Maximilien | Max fingers the datapad for a moment, then sets it down out of her reach. She'll have to stand up if she wants to pick it up. His hand curls around hers as he slides down onto the side, his arm moving around her shoulder as he makes himself comfortable - between the sidearm and the woman actually in the chair, he doesn't have much trouble. "You've been awake all night again, haven't you? And eating as you always do. I swear - some days I feel as if I should not ever leave your side, or you will work yourself to death." "I picked up something in the desert for you. A crooked merchant was selling these diamonds he extorted; I gave most of them back to their rightful owners, but these had no owner, so I felt that I would keep them for myself." |
| Jihl Nabaat | Jihl starts standing when Max very deliberately settles the datapad out of her reach from her chair - however then Max neatly settles himself onto the side of the chair and her, which makes her very stuck - - between a Frenchman and a hard place. She tilts her head at Max. "I have survived ten years before you came into my life while doing what I've done, so I significantly doubt that I would - will - am going to work myself to death." She picks up the diamond and lazily runs it through her fingers, caressing it. "I see." She drawls. |
| Maximilien | "I have told you before, you should take care of your body. It - and you - deserve better than this." Max holds up the take-out like it's a filthy rag, discarding it with a neat toss into a nearby receptacle. "But...we have had this argument time and again already. Let us talk about something more interesting. Is there a reason you decided to get out of the office and work here in your chair?" He sounds almost hopeful. |
| Jihl Nabaat | "Max, you realize that I am not at all unhealthy, and, as a matter of fact, am very healthy, and at my last doctors visit, she said I was doing better than most people would with my job in terms of health and the like?" Then he gets a elbow into his side, Jihl frowning at him. "I'm not fat." "This is my office on the Palamecia." She points out. |
| Maximilien | "That does not mean that I do not think that stuff isn't absolutely vile," Max replies cheerfully. "I know you are not fat," Max replies, taking the elbow with the same grace. "You are beautiful." "And...yes, but it is not your normal office, which therefore qualifies it as an occasion." |
| Jihl Nabaat | "It's not vile!" Jihl protests. "Or at least, I don't think it is." Somehow, she manages to sulk in her chair, even as she raises an eyebrow at him again. She does that frequently. "The occasion is that 'the lieutenant colonel of PSICOM is checking on the repairs and refitting and resupply of the Palamecia, one of the two greatest ships in the Sanctum Skyfleet!" AKA Work. |
| Maximilien | 'Work' is not a concept foreign to Max, though a lot of people who know him probably believe that it is. Contrary to popular opinion, Max has worked a whole lot of jobs and done a whole lot of things in his young life; he's no stranger to rolling up his sleeves, if only because at some point in his life he needed to pretend for a greater treasure. "Has it been in much battle lately, then, that it needs you personally to resupply it?" There are two subtle, unspoken questions behind the spoken one. The first is, of course, whether or not Palumpolum and Cocoon have decided to take a side in the ever-growing world war. That concerns Max for a whole lot of reasons, not the least of which because of his own loyalties being exceptionally divisive - nevermind his general discontent for war in the first place. The second is whether or not she personally needs to be there or if he wants to go out tonight. |
| Jihl Nabaat | "It is not the military armaments that need resupply, for the most part, aside from the ones we used and wasted during live training." Jihl responds easily - evidently, there's been no side decided here. She gives him a easy smile. "It is mostly the food and such that is needed for the crew." So to answer the second, it's not vital, but she is overseeing the project. She then tilts her head at him. "I would think you might have realized, of all people, that we haven't fought any battles in a very long time." She then shrugs. |
| Maximilien | Max is quiet for a long moment. The smile at least makes him feel better; he'd been worried. He'd been very worried. "I have only lived through one war, ma chere, and I am not exactly an expert on the subject of waging it. I may be an impossible man, but that is one area of expertise where I am sadly merely mortal - a far cry from Alexander and Hannibal." He knows the references will be lost on her, but it's not like he's read up on the thousands of years of Cocoon history for an appropriate subject, and the context is clear enough. "But...yes. I have noticed the sheer...zeal...with which your people pursue their isolation. The China of my world was much the same; they wanted to deal with no one but themselves." Max sighs. "I imagine it is a common trait among the worlds." |
| Jihl Nabaat | Jihl shrugs. "It's unusual, yes; but really the only society on our world is Cocoon and it's lead by the Primarch, so in a way, we didn't really have to worry about anyone til we landed here in the World of Ruin." She wriggles around in the chair a bit, til she can lay her head against Max. "So I don't know if it's 'zeal' so much as 'what we've always known'." She does not comment on anything else - just that. |
| Maximilien | "That seems to be the way with most cultures I have encountered who embrace such a trait," Max notes, shifting so they're both comfortable. It's a good thing he's flexible; two people in a chair, one of them laying across the armrests, is not usually what chairs are built for. It's a testament to how light he is (or how good he is at controlling his body) that he hasn't tipped the chair or set its weight askew or anything like that. "They have always done so, and so they always wish to continue doing so." Max's fingers move in the air a little bit, drawing something; magic trails in his wake as he does so. It's simple magic, just a little flame and smoke, prestidigitation backed by actual spellcraft; nothing more. "The world turns on a single axis, I think. Changing the angle..." The spinning wheel cracks. "...and you get chaos. Sometimes it is necessary...but it is always terrifying." |
| Jihl Nabaat | Jihl, who cannot use real magic, just mana devices manipulated by technology, is fascinated as she watches Maxs' fingers curl into the air, the smoke and flame capturing her attention in a way he never really has before. Curiously, she examines his fingers afterwards. Then, partially distracted, "Chaos is the base of everything, because without it, then we would not have peace, just a way of life that would probably be really, really boring.. but chaos, used wrongly, is horrifying." |
| Maximilien | "I do not know about that," Max replies, letting her inspect his hands idly. There's a hint of gunpowder from his more mundane trickery - Max loved to mix mundane trickery and misdirection with magical trickery and misdiretion; it's what made him such a dangerous Phantom Thief to begin with. Beyond that, though, his hands are still warm with power. "I do not think that the world is so simple; there are too many elements to summarize them so simply, too many pieces of life to call everything chaos or order or light or dark." "Life leads to unexpected things, but does that make them random? Or can we merely not see the plans laid out before us? To the untrained eye, my work is chaos - but to me it is a game of order and precision. Perhaps it is not for us to know the truth of this world; I doubt we could perceive it properly if we did know it." |
| Jihl Nabaat | Jihl presses his still warm hand up to her pale, cool cheek - she then lets him have his hand back after a brief moment, her face pensive and curious. She knows gunpowder - she definitely knows it, at this point in her military career - but she does not ask. Max his tricks, she has hers. "It is a mystery, chaos is; but then again, mysteries are to be solved eventually, or is it the type of mystery that gets boxed away and reopened every new generation, by someone curious and questioning?" Jihl smiles, faintly. |
| Maximilien | "A question for philosophers, for they have nothing better to do than sit about and ask, and while somebody ought to do it, the rest of us are far too busy making money and living," Max replies cheerfully as he lets his hand rest on her cheek. It'll be warm for a bit now; the magic just lingered with him. |
| Jihl Nabaat | Jihl gives Max a thoughtful look, then sighs, almost tiredly. "Oh, well, I am not paid to philosophize." She does thoroughly admit. |