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No title.
(2012-12-29 - 2012-12-30)
No description.
Cirra Constantine The Palace of Rabanastre, formerly the home of Rabanstre's king, now it hosts the House of Solidor as the Archadian Empire has annexed the city state for years. The Emporer's son has taken residence in the palace, but surely he wouldn't have brought great treassures.

At least not anything better then the rumored treassure left behind by the Rabanastre royal family. Rumors and stories tell of hidden rooms and secret passages filled with immesurable hoarded wealth.

And tonight, on the night when Vayne Solidor entertains guests on his arrival into the city, insures that soldiers patrol the grounds, surely no thief would try to get past them, through hte sewers or hte rooftops...

/hahahah/ yeah right, someone's always that ballsy, thats why Judges are also on duty. Like Cirra Constantine, who looks down on the courtyard from the rooftop through her helmet. did she get /up/ there?
Maximilien Of course someone's that ballsy.

The mysterious Phantom Thief MARS, alias Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne, is that ballsy. He had spent weeks studying the palace's design, studying the people, the habits. He had spent days infiltrating it as palace staff; spent weeks learning the habits, the names, the way of the various guards. He was a clever and cunning and brilliant man; he knew how to work through a defensive system quite well, or he wouldn't hardly be a PHANTOM thief. He had that sort of...special attitude required of a man in his profession, that desire to challenge and push the envelope to the maximum. It wasn't just in the was in the thrill of the chase. Ironically, much like with women.

He's changed outfits for tonight, of course; his flamboyant white tuxedo has been exchanged for a dark black and gold one, and his cape has been exchanged for his new dark-blue-and-silver one. Ordinarily, he wouldn't even bother, but tonight was a special occasion - he had /multiple/ objectives tonight. Besides...he had to look his absolute best.

The first, of course, was the treasure itself. Not simple gold and jewels, of course; he could not carry so much. No, he needed one object, something of great value that he could easily take and leave with. Besides...part of it was in the thrill, after all. Not necessarily the theft itself.

MARS makes his way along the window ledges, making himself as small as possible. When he reaches an open window, he simply reaches over and slides through it; he knows where the staff will be, where the regular guards will be, their routines long-since memorized down to the smallest detail, the smallest bathroom break.

Complications, of course, could always arise.
Cirra Constantine Complications, thats another word for 'Judge' around here.

Cirra looks over the edge of the roof top and raises an eyebrow. Did se just hear something? She turns and walks across the rooftop, grabs holds of the edge and swings down, neatly landed in an unoccupied bedroom - hers - and steps to the door, opening it to step into the hallway. A hallway, that Max's carefull, methodical and exhausting planning said should be empty.

Judges in heavy armor are the /opposite/ of empty when a phantom theif comes charging through.
Maximilien Here now, Max hardly comes /charging/ through anywhere. He's actually quite deft and gentle when it comes to infiltrations. Of course, that's not really the point; the point is that, as Cirra steps out of the door, Max just rams right into her.

That was not, at all, part of his carefully-worked plan. He falls backwards, only narrowly managing to recover before he smashes his head on the wall, both hands snapping out to support him in a fit of acrobatic acumen likely surprising from a thin man in a cape. "Ah...that was...not at all what I expected," Max groans, pushing himself to his feet. "Are you alright, madamoiselle?" Immediately, Max sticks out his hand, offering it to the judge; assuming her helmet hasn't come off from the impact, he probably doesn't recognize her just yet, given that his head is still spinning a little bit. Careful plan...thrown out the window!

Oh well. That made it more exciting.
Cirra Constantine Cirra is super strong and super agile, but even she has to obey the laws of physics when an unexpected force runs right into her from the side. She tumbles to the ground as Max rebounds off of her.

Hissing through her teeth in annoyance, she gets a helping hand up which does a lot to abate her annoyance. She holds one hand to the side of her head as silver hair spills down over her shoulders from where her helmet has gone bouncing down the hallway a short distance. "I'm fine-" she turns to look at him.


Maximilien Ah.

Objective two.

Max draws his hand from hers. "I am glad you are not hurt, Madamoiselle Constanine." He doesn't miss a beat, not even one, a smile spreading across his face as he steps back and bows. "I was not looking where I was going, in my haste, I am afraid. Please, forgive me...although, it is most auspicious, running into you here. You see...I must confess, madamoiselle, that you have been on my mind. The tantalizing taste of your lips still lingers upon my own." He brushes two fingers past his lips and grins, a wide, shining, immaculate white grin.

Music starts up below, the music of whatever big orchestra Vayne keeps around struck up to entertain the guests. Max steps forward, as though he were about to dance with her; his slides his hand into hers and presses his lips against it gently, keeping his eyes on her. Then he slides forward, moving into a waltz position, slipping one arm gently around her waist. He leans in close.

"How did you do it?" He murmurs as one of the cleaning staff moves through, quietly enough for only her to hear. "Was it poison? Dark magic? I am so very curious, madamoiselle, how such beautiful lips can be turned to such a fearsome weapon. Will you please indulge me?"
Cirra Constantine Cirra draws in a breath, preparing to say something at a very increased volume. "Y-" but the gentlemen theif is already on the move. As he takes hold of her hand and kiss it. "What are you do-" Then music starts up and Max makes as if to dance with her. Her back straightens it's just a twitch to her, but to Max it probably feels like he's trying to hug a hydraulic press trying to worm its way out of his grasp, he however has the element of suprise. "Now wait just a-" she sounds increasingly angered.

Then the dancing begins, taken off guard and the Judge is swung around in the waltz, eyes slightly wide, and Max asks his question. How did she do it?

'You want to know?" her eyes half lid, her tone of voice suddenly more sweet. And confident. "Then maybe you'd like a secodn demonstration?"

Her arm wraps around the back of Max's neck and she moves in, placing her lips on his. And the same energy drain as before attempts to remove his energ. not his /soul/ or anything, just, the energy to do things.

Though maybe he is slippery enough tog et away.
Maximilien "I would, madamoiselle," Max murmurs breathily; he's enjoying the waltz in the empty corridor despite himself, despite the fact that he is technically there to /steal a valuable treasure/ and not dance with a beautiful woman who very much wanted to kill him very very dead - a fact he was also very much aware of. "After all...I do so like to live dangerously, mmm?"

But as she comes in, he spins out; he dances around her gently, still holding her hand, moving to spin with her as well. Hopefully, it will be enough to disorient her. He had no interest in hurting this woman, though she had every desire to hurt him - and he really couldn't blame her for *doing her job*, but still! He was a kind soul. Sort of. Kind of. Ish.

Okay, he was alright.

...okay, he wasn't terrible.

However, he *is* a phenomenal dancer, and a phenomenal evasion artist. He's had a lot of practice with both. "I would like nothing more than to enjoy the poison on your lips, if it meant tasting them once more; l'amour est une chose éphémère, apres tout. They are...delicious, and moreso for their poison."

"Though I admit that I am more than a bit curious as to why you are so eager to do me harm, madamoisele; I may have stepped out of line on Christmas, but come now - I apologize for any harm my playfulness may have caused you."

She may have noticed that he's quietly spinning and dancing them down the corridor, towards a four-way intersection...assuming she's not focused on his face, or disoriented. "But I would still like to know how you did it, mmm? Or are you guarding your secrets so closely that only my pain will unlock them?"
Cirra Constantine Max spins away from the kiss, and spins Cirra away as well. It disorients her just enough that she does not say, immediatly swing Max into a wall. The grip of her hand on Max's however is tight enoguh that he can't slip out of her grip. "You certainly do." she glowers.

5tTHe state of Cirra's 'kind soul' is classified top secret.

Max's agility is what keeps Cirra from instantly showing him a reprisal as he dances them further down the hallway. She frowns again at the french, "I have no idea what you just said." if you get a micrometer out though, you might meassure her eyesbrow moving up, just a hair when the thief goes on about how delicious her lips are.

"Yes, you did. And if I seem eager to harm you, it is only because I know you don't belong here!" THey come to the fourway interesction. "Very well, if you want to know."

Cirra lifts up a hand and little motes of black and purple gather to it.

"Do you know of the dark knight technique called 'gravity bomb'?"

Heres a hint: its exactly whats written on the tin.
Maximilien Well. He *is* in a bind - quite literally. Her hand is ferociously tight; incredibly tight. Ironclad. He couldn't get out of that if he tried, he's fairly sure. This woman is ferocious and fearsome; he's thinking quite light on his feet right now, because the entire plan has gone COMPLETELY awry. It's a house of cards; it's all come falling down because of the injection of this dangerous woman.

How exciting. He can't help but enjoy it; this was the sort of thing he lived for. This, right here, the challenge, the sport of it, putting his life on the line to improve, to get better, to be the best he possibly could be. "Living dangerously is the only way to live, ma chere; living day to day, not knowing what the moment will bring, the heart pounding in the is the most exciting way to live of all. I have not had this much fun in a very, very long time; I must thank you, ma chere, for a lovely evening. When next we meet, I shall ensure to have a suitably lovely present to thank you, mmm?"

They spin down the hall, his cape flowing around them both as they do so; his grin widens a bit. "I said that love is a fleeting thing, ma chere." Then she lifts up her hand, and his eyebrow quirks. That doesn't look safe. That doesn't look safe at /all/. In fact, that looks kind of really damn dangerous and even more damn lethal. "Non, madamoiselle...I cannot say I am familiar. But I will assume that it is exactly what it sounds like."

They hit the four-way hallway; it's irrelevant. He can't break out of her grip, it's like iron. If he were a less professional man, he might be panicking, like a rat caught in a cage., he is not such a man. He simply thinks, rapidly, on his feet; he presses close to her, moving to dip her down towards the floor. "If you are going to kill me, madamoiselle," he murmurs, "I would rather it be with your kiss, that my final memory be one of true delight. Consider it a last request from an ardent admirer...?"

Meanwhile he's also moving his fingers in his sleeve behind her for the grappling hook. The question is...will she take the bait and move to kiss him to death, or will she just kill him then and there?
Cirra Constantine Cirra nearly broke Mercade's hand by accident when she woke up from her coma. But that was in a screaming fit of rage and grief. Max doesn't have to deal with that, fortunatly for him.

"Very fleeting." she deadpans. Cirra is quickly dipped backwards as they hit the four way intersection, se blinks, eyes widdened in suprsie as she even lets out a small 'oh' in suprise, and in doing so, releases the incomplete gravity bomb, which fizzles out of existance so she can grasp his shoulder but quickly covers it up with a scowl.

"It can't." she says. "It can't kill you outright... not without several /hours/." crap she thinks, she can't reformm the gravity bomb llike this. She decides to take the only oportunity. "It can make you very /unconcious/ while I find another way to dispose of you though." she pulls Maximilien down. "Is that a sweet enoguh sleep for you?"
Maximilien If Max actually knew that, he probably wouldn't've been so fast to pull her into a dance. The fact that he's still awake is shocking to him, in fact; he'd expected her to plaster him across the wall pretty much effortlessly the moment he realized he was locked into her grip. He was not a strong man; oh, certainly, he was not a WEAK man, but he wasn't nearly as powerful as she was. He was a light man, evasive, light on his feet; his skillset was about disabling and evading, not fighting and killing. The truth was, he didn't really much care for fighting; fighting got in the way of more enjoyable and important things, and simply got people hurt. People getting hurt...well. Never something to do for fun. If absolutely necessary...but never something to do for fun.

He was, after all, a GENTLEMAN thief, not common riff-raff scum.

"Hours of your kiss would be a hellish heaven I do not believe I have earned," Maximilien admits as he's pulled down, his grin fading into a smile. Well, can't shoot the grappling hook from here, not at this angle and support her; drop her and she'd just rip his arm off. His fingers drop out of that thought immediately, moving as if to brush through her hair. Mentally, of course, he's berating himself thoroughly for falling into such a stupid situation; he liked to live dangerously, but he should've known better than to let this woman get this close to him. All she needed to do was press her lips against his and that was basically it.

"You are an excellent dancer, ma chere. If these are to be my final hours, they are hours well spent in the company of a goddess. Pray, ma chere; you still have not revealed the secrets of your trick to me. How do such luscious lips become so fierce a weapon?" He swings her back up, spinning her into his arms as they move towards the stairwell at the end of the hall. If they got close enough to the public, she might not risk just outright executing him; he looked enough like a ballroom guest that he might be able to fake it. The problem with that plan?

That is a long way down the hall. A really long way down the hall.

He'd just have to keep her light on her feet the whole way down...and possibly tank one of those killer kisses. Maybe more.

Oh well. He was, after all, a gambling man...the chips were down. Time to bet it all.
Cirra Constantine Cirra only beats up people that break the law.... well, Archadia's law, but if you asked around, she has done decidedly little to rough up the inhabitants of Rabanastre compared to most Archiadian soldiers.

Cirra's strength is peculier, it outright doesn't match up to her size and muscle tone - that you can see through her armor - "Hours of kissing an unconcious man would be dreadfully boring however." she seems to have a dry witt.

As they stand up straight again and dance dwn the hallway, Cirra gives another small frown. If they enter the ball room, she'll have no way of dealing with the man. She spies the widnows along the hallway though, large, and the one at the end is open.

Spinning about again as they waltz, Cirra meets Max's eyes. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you. But you have to at /least/ give me your name first."
Maximilien "Ma chere, if there is anything I absolutely refuse to be, it is boring; even unconscious, I've no doubt I could hold your interest, if merely to see how long it would take before my breath vanished in my throat," Max replies cheerfully, matching wit for wit, a parry for a thrust. He's definitely a lawbreaker; perhaps one more harmless than others, but a lawbreaker nonetheless. She would certainly never approve if she knew the actual truth of who he was; she might suspect, of course, but the rabbit hole was significantly deeper than she knew. Just 'a thief' was quite removed from 'the infamous and mysterious Phantom Thief'. That Cirra has introduced another complication to this little song-and-dance (the metaphorical cat-and-mouse game, not the actual song and dance). She's asked his name.

He's a gentleman. He's dancing with a lady. The problem wih being a gentleman thief is that it comes with an honor code, with holding to a set of principles and manners even in a situation where you're caught breaking into a place. You helped women up if they fell, you were polite and gentle even if your hand was in their pocket, and you never failed to give your name if they asked. It may be silly from the perspective of less moral criminals, but...that was all part of the challenge. If you didn't challenge yourself, what was the point of /living/? Cirra may not have known that particular, self-imposed rule, but she played the game well. She was a worthy adversary, even if she didn't actually know EXACTLY what she was dealing with. He'd have to be more careful next time he approached Rabanastre...maybe use a bit more of a diversion.

Max smiles, a little chuckle escaping from his lips as they swing towards the window. "Maximilien, ma chere. Je m'appelle Maximilien. You do not need to introduce yourself, Cirra Constantine...though I think I would very much love to know more about you, even at so expensive a cost." He leans in close, his voice lowering. "I suspect that you are worth any price a man could pay; I have no doubt that you would suck out my soul if I were so careless, just as I have no doubt that I would enjoy every moment of it. You are...truly fascinating, Cirra Constantine."

Just a little bit more...if he can just keep her occupied for a little bit more, and keep his face near her ear and not near her lips...unless she can drain his strength through just lip-to-skin contact, a little bit more and he'd be in the clear. She wouldn't be able to do anything but enjoy dancing with him until after the party, at which point he could promptly make his escape...
Cirra Constantine Cirra could do it without kissing, but theres something about the...personal touch that makes it more effective. She turns her head up slightly, placing her mouth right next to Max's ear as she whispers, "Maximilien." her lips coming just close enough to his ear that he might worry she's abot to drain him. "I don't tell people about myself. It gets in the way of work."

The pair dance down the hallway, towards Max's salvation. Cirra turns slightly, letting the tip of her nose touch Max's cheek. Was that a tiny little spark? A tiny drain of power from Max to Cirra?OR something...simpler? "But I'll tell you this much." She steps closer into the embrace, still whispering "I, am a Dark Knight. I manipulate the massless form between the stars." her hand slides around hte theif's waist, stroking down hte small of his back, "And I-" she smiles as her breath tickles Max's skin as they begin another spin.

"-Am going to throw you now."

And like a snapping whip, Cirra uncoils her powerfull body and one-two-three steps in perfect tiem with the dance, hand grasping the back of Max's coat and/or belt while the other hand rips his shoulder and she tosses him, head first out the open window.
Maximilien Indeed, as her lips brush across his ear, that is his primary thought; that she may be capable of simply removing his power with no more than her lips, that she was going to steal his strength and leave him for dead. Her nose rests against his cheek; he cannot help but smile despite himself, despite the worry he is suffering. She really is quite beautiful; it's not just cheap and simple words.

Ahh...a Dark Knight. He had encountered them before, but that was the answer he sought; it was her own inherent power, the power of the shadows, that she wielded. He was not...unfamiliar with that. He might wish that he were, but he is not...not at all. But that was indeed a satisfactory answer; as her fingers run down his back, his worry turns from worry to fear. They were so close to the-


And then he's flung. Just...flung, out the window. There's a brief sensation of being lifted, but it's so brief as to be nonexistant; she's an expert physical combatant, he's an expert escape artist, but he had made the mistake of engaging in physical contact. He really did just deserve this.

He laughs as he spins in mid-air; disorienting, yes, but not so much that he cannot dig into the pocket of his jacket. He flicks something backwards at her; a moment later, his hands snap to the sides of his cloak, flaring it outwards to bring himself under control. With a little creative application of magic, the cloak was a delightful makeshift parachute. She might raise the alarm, but he would be gone long before her men found him; simply vanishing into the shadows, the only trace of him left the rose he managed to fling at the wall beside her.
Cirra Constantine Cirra sits on the windowstill, one foot lifted up to prop up against the opposite side of the window frame and her arm propped up on her knee as she watches Maximilien's cape-parachute trick help him escape harm, her own hair blowing in he night wind of the desert town.

Her hand lifts up the rose she plucked from the wall and examines it, sniffing it briefly. She smirks as she looks at hte receeding figure again. She won't raise the alarm. She will /report/ it but part of her job is to ensure Vayne Solidor's knight goes smoothly.

"You might not be so lucky next time."

This scene contained 17 poses. The players who were present were: Cirra Constantine, Maximilien