| Scene Listing | || | Scene Schedule | || | Scene Schedule RSS |
| No title. |
| (2014-03-02 - 2014-03-02) |
| No description. |
| Rakassa | And so, Rakassa has called Queegma to the library. 'Olivia' is sitting at a large desk, several tomes in front of her as she awaits her trusted minion. Sipping on some wine, her face is one of blissful, drunken joy. Who /knows/ what she's loaded herself wit this time. |
| Queegmaa | Entering the library, Queegmaa, stooped over, as usual, hobbles into the room expecting to hear some kind of half-baked idea, being that usually when Rakassa comes up with ideas, they need refinement. Once in awhile, he doesn't really feel the need to suggest 'minor modifications' to her schemes, but most of the time, she needs him to take her the extra mile, if she comes up with anything good to start with; whatever the case, he had to abide her wishes, whether she ultimately agreed to his sentiments or not. "Matron Olivia.... It's kinda unyuhshul fer ya tuh sum'n me here 'stead of back at Veckter. Takin' it dat ya have stuff ta say dat ain't fer impreel ears.....?" He comes to a halt about a dozen feet from her, since he knows that approaching too close to his 'master' would be effrontery, and presumptuous on his end. |
| Rakassa | The woman nods. She's indulgent today, and so she doesn't yell at him for imagined slights. No, she's in a good mood today. She kicks her feet up onto the table, which seem to wiggle today in /strange/ ways. "I need a spy in the Church." Comes the woman bluntly. She nods to the odd creature. "You're going to work with those Bishops to strengthen ties between Vector and the Church. Your allegiance to Vector shall be only slight. Make it sound like you've turned a new leaf, found a calling to their God. They'll take you in. Report to me anything you find, particularly dirt on the higher ups. We need blackmail material." |
| Queegmaa | Queegmaa scratches his head and tilts his head to the side, then straightens up, remarking, "Undercover.... in da church..... Seems tuh me like ya might be tryin' to convince Vector datcha ant crupt, by showin' 'em dat nepotism ain't how yuh doin' dings no more. Gonna try ta win over da conspirsee deorists by provin' dat ya run a fair 'n imparsheel regime, yer gunna hafta ruhplace me widd somebody who's known fer bein' 'posed tuh yer idoljees." He sneers, "Dey has a sayin' dat comes from duh world o' Manhatten... Only Nixon ken go tuh China." With that, the kappa shrugs, "But yer killin' two birds widd one stone.... Yer gittin' me out 'n den 'stalling a dissentor right under ya tuh make it look like yer tryin' to enable more transparency, cuz yer new helper is liable to turn ya in if ya get caught. Plus.... yer gonna diversify yer portfolio 'n put a pair 'o eyes in Mullonde....." He folds his arms over his chest. Queegmaa suspected that Rakassa had thought of simply instating Vohstras as her new errand-boy, in truth, following her plan to inject Queegmaa into the church, since that seemed to be her usual line of thinking. Get one loyal servant out, and put another to take their place. The troll, on the other hand, deliberately vocally hypothesized that she'd already taken it a step further, by surmising that she'd made the more intelligent move; putting in a potential whistle-blower to assuage the malcontents, so that less eyes would be on her, in thinking that she was already under enough scrutiny as it were, with a helper who opposed her views. Why did Queegmaa do this? The same reason he did everything else. He gave Rakassa the benefit of the doubt publicly, while inwardly suspecting that he was giving her credit for his own idea, while pretending that he thought she had been two steps ahead, when she was likely only actually one step ahead. Rakassa wasn't likely to admit the idea wasn't hers if Queegmaa volunteered to give her credit for it, too, because that would force her to humble herself, which went against the typical pattern of the hedonist. |
| Rakassa | "Tell me something I don't already know." Yawn. Rakassa, if nothing else, is /very/ good at well timed put-downs. In a few words, she could belittle the grandest of architects or artists in their work. She's had practice, after all, with Que around. "Anyway, you heard me. Get to Mullonde, and grovel before them, spouting a bunch of religion. Find someone in there, make them like you. Zealot type. Make them think you really mean you want to serve. You'll get twisted up in plots in no time. It's how those organizations go." Shrug. Then, standing, she does something that she rarely ever does. She smiles, and nods. "...Make me proud. There's a reason you're still alive, and so many others aren't." Always good to give sudden, unwarranted encouragement for your minions even if you're evil. |
| Queegmaa | Queegmaa grumbled a little bit when she dismissed 'his' idea as significant, not only allowing her to claim it for herself, but to pretend as though it weren't spectacular that the orc had caught on. Canting his head towards his prosthetics, he denotes, "Might be prudent tuh see 'bout gittin' me some organ transplants sometime from a donor or sumdin. Even if I'm still da same fella personal'ty-wise, people er li'bul tuh trust me more if I look more organic.... less... robotic..." He gives a thumbs up, "Might endear me to 'em if choose a more 'natural' appearance dan dis arteeafishul one. Church types are intuh da whole deal 'bout bein' what God begotcha as, 'stead of bein' somethin' made by science. Call it a psychological edge I'd have in gainin' deir confeedence." With that, he shakes his cybernetic members a little to emphasize their remaining importance, "S'well, might do tuh give Emruld or Jairn a lil nudge to see 'bout teachin' me Ivalician-style magic, if I'm losin' my bionics, since right now dey's a good source of my power. E'rybody knowed dat Ivalician magic takes faith to work, 'n if I can perform some of deir stuff, even if I dun do't well, still'd show 'em dat I ain't no heathen. When in Rome, do's da Romans.... yet anudder sayin' from Manhatten's world." Yet again, he purposely 'forgets' to foresee a problem in his strategy-- there were almost no kappa from which to get a donation, and so replacing his unnatural parts with flesh would be nigh-impossible to do for even Rakassa..... unless she expanded her horizons a bit, and looked into ShinRa for tissue/organ cloning. Taking Queeg's own cells would help bypass the problems of rejection, which would mean he could essentially return to being 'the way God made him', to appease the Ivalicians even better. Expensive, since she'd have to barter with Rhiannon, or some other psychotic scientist, but if she wanted to go the whole nine yards, that would've been an option. Was she smart enough to think of it? Perhaps she would be. But the main reason for Que neglecting to offer the suggestion, at least initially, was to give Rakassa the opportunity to feel smart by coming up with an idea her stooge 'had not thought of', or thereabouts. Yet more ego-stroking possible, depending on how inventive and informed the matron is..... |
| Rakassa | "Right, right. Go barter with the Shinra Electric Power Company." Dismisses the woman, hmph'ing a bit. From her tone, it's as though the kappa's mentioned the most obvious thing in the world. Sorry Que, your compliments are done with. With that, she leans back, sighing happily. "There's some nut scientist...mmm, Rhinnon? Rhiannon? Right. Find her. Ruin all my work." Mutter. |
| Queegmaa | The olive goblin bows a little lower in compliance when she orders him to make contact with SEPC, demonstrating that he was willing to do just that, while feigning as though he'd been ignorant to it having been a viable option all along, remarking, "Ah.... That is an excellent idea. But need I remind you that you'll get reimbursement for your work.... The parts that are detached will obviously be returned to you, and besides that-- not /all/ of your work will be undermined....." He points to his parietal area, indicating that there was no plan to have his 'helmet' tampered with, which was what not only gave Rakassa influence over him, but that which contained the self-destruct button that always acted as her trump card. It was within the realm of possibility that Rhiannon could remove it safely, but not without substantial risk to both herself and Que, since the resulting explosion could level a building, not to mention that those in the epicenter would practically evaporate from such a point-blank proximity to said combustion. Was Queegmaa likely to take the gamble? No. Was Rhiannon likely to do such a thing for some kappa she knew nothing about? It would certainly take more money than would be allowed for the budget that Rakassa would give Que, and if he overspent, the Shadow Lord would know something was amiss, again.... provided the extraction succeeded! For the time being, the reminder must have been at least a mild reassurance to Rakassa, who had to look forward to dealing with somebody who wasn't likely to handwave all her antics as eagerly as Que did. It would be a bittersweet victory if Rakassa did find some skeletons in Mullonde's closet, but at least she had the gall to make the attempt, unlike Queegmaa, who was too wimpy to dare such stunts! |
| Rakassa | /Sigh/. Rakassa finally gives a small nod. There may be a few wiggly appendages in her robes moving too. Her Shadow Lord form is creepy like that. "...Alright, fine. Just keep that pretty little head intact~" Teases the woman, a predatory grin to her. "Right! You've got work, then. Do well, and you'll be rewarded. The usual. Remember this always: you are MINE." Smile. She laughs. "And no one elses. I /hate/ traitors. Well, when they're not working for me, anyway." |
| Queegmaa | Queegmaa himself wasn't entirely sure what Olivia looked like under her garments, but it was a rare occasion indeed that he wanted to consider mentally undressing her, given how much he disliked his oppressor. He begins to turn around and waddle back towards the door, then pauses, turning his head to the side, with the arising of a new thought, "Since I'm gonna be all skin, 'n no machine.... Dat means I wun be able tuh help wid yer little diamond mine plot...." he says, as a sidenote, although it is yet riddled with another inaccuracy; it was actually /his/ plot, as usual. "Yer gun hafta git somebody else to oversee da robots we're fixin' on stickin' in Afirka, where e'rybody turns tuh animals. I only know o' one udder fella widd any brains who's made of robotics, who won't transform when he goes tuh da Pride Lands, hull be able tuh use opposable thumbs ta manage sh*t." Que snickers lightly, finally getting a microscopic amount of revenge by being able to bring up something that would act as a thorn in Rakassa, as though getting the upper hand for just one instant, "Dat snob.... Sebruh.... or whatever 'is name is. 'E ain't gunna give ya an easy time, eider. Yer gonna hafta learn ta compromise." |
| Rakassa | And thus, Queegma manages to throw a wrench into Rakassa's plan that she's trying her hardest to /not/ think about. She takes a long, ominous sigh. "...Yeah. Yeah, I know." Then, she's glaring at the kappa. Someone's sleeping on the spikey bed tonight. "I'll talk to the fool. He's...useful, if nothing else." Groan. Oh, she's going to need so much alcohol to get through this. |