RPlog:A Debt is Incurred

Lobby, Imperial Embassy(#2571RLnt) Like a monument to Imperial might, a massive chamber is arrayed before you. Towering, vaulted ceilings rise above you as light showers in from outside through a series of magnificent skylights. Ivory millars of the whitest marble rise about you like giant centurions. Numerous trees and potted plants are set up for display originating from a variety of Imperial worlds, each exotic and unique. Stormtroops clad in pristine white armor dot the walls, standing in mute testimony to the Empire's strength. Various dignitaries and their aides move about. A single desk which is more akin to a massive, sculpted slab of black marble, provides the only place to sit and it is occupied by an sergeant of the Imperial Army who directs visitors to their destinations and monitors the flow of traffic. Across the expanse sits a set of ebon doors leading deeper into this extension of the Emperor's will. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Venus -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Out leads to Embassy Plaza. North leads to Corridor, Imperial Embassy.

Slightly fatigued and pale, Venus enters the Imperial embassy with meticulous posture and grace. Her face has traces of bruises, fading slightly from the passage of time. Her eyes still carry their energy and gleam, especially within the confines of the Imperial foyer -- so grand and formidable in structure. The woman makes her way to the reception desk and begins her usual request for a meeting with Vice Director Thistleborne, knowing it will be unsuccessful, as always.

Once again Joir seems to have been waylaid by a junior analyst intent on presenting his personal view on some rather minor situation, full of the belief that it is of Galactic importance that the Director hears this information now! Despite his impassive mask it is clear to more observant onlookers that the look in Joir's cold eyes is one of boredom rather than curiousity. Despite the continuous traffic in and out of the embassy something about one of the travellers makes him look up, the regal poise and movement unmistakable within this setting.

The woman is too tired, most likely from the situation she has recently been in, to argue with the rather insolent sergeant on duty. Still standing with the regality of her birth, she speaks in soft, chilling tones lacking the energy they would normally carry. "Tell the Vice Director that my patience is wearing thin please." She sighs, as this is the second time this week the appointment has been delayed. Oh well. . .Venus closes her eyes to avoid the frustration she experiences inside and turns around to walk towards the seating area. Slowly, with a deep exhale, she opens her black eyes and sees Director Joir.

Looking straight past the aide who continues his animated presentation Joir meets Venus's eyes, the knowledge gained from years of familiarity instantly communicating her fatigue, but more importantly her pain. Unprompted, a strange concern rises within him, keeping clear of his chilled face but appearing plainly in his eyes - the instinctive need to protect battles against his knowledge that Venus is no longer his ward. Moving slowly without a word he approaches her, all the time keeping her in constant eye contact hoping that he may gain something from this form of unspoken communication.

Venus has never been able to lie to her mentor, her friend -- the man she adored and cared for throughout her time as Alaric's slave. Her eyes never betrayed him, a silent form of reassurance and affection when words were so forbidden. And it is as if time has stood still and Venus is still the young woman who cared for her guard so dearly. Water clouds over her black eyes as she takes in Joir's scrutiny. Shame and embarassment run in her expression, for her less- than-perfect appearance. But a feminine, brave smile parts her lips -- the one that she offered Joir in /his/ times of need.

Her smile, her strange strength even amoungst the horror she had endured - a strange reminder that he too had his vunerable moments, a memory he would rather repress, a memory from a different age. Standing before her he returns her smile, carefully curling the corners of his lips into a private sharing of emotion - meant only for her. Reaching out his black gloved hand he moves it slowly, almost tenderly towards her face - face still and icy mask, emotional controls hiding both concern and an anger against whoever caused the bruises. His voice is quiet, and simple - devoid of its usual tone of command or imperial arrogance "Who did this?"

He had never touched her face before, except with his lips to her forehead that one night. And Venus shivers slightly, in fear and in relief, as the hand touches her skin lightly. Eyes close and her cheek leans instinctively into her mentor's hand, to enjoy the moment of intimacy that was never allowed before. "And old business associate of mine, sir. . ." she says in a whispered tone.

The reply is in a tone which would freeze the suns of Tatooine, the chilled threat directed against this 'business associate' "Associate?" - it is clear that Joir feels that associates do not assualt each other in the course of business, there is something more to this - something that she is hiding, why?

Venus squints and then widens her eyes to create a look that is distinctively cold, taught by years of Imperial etiquette in the art of Imperial elegance. She parts her lips as if to say something but then closes them. She locks her gaze on yours, knowing that lying to her mentor is futile. "Claudio Van Eyre paid me a visit, my guard. . . " Venus dims her eyes, and softens her expression almost schizophrenically to take on that cold, alluring nature she was so known for at the court. . .the one that grew with her as she went from girl to woman. . in your care.

Joir’s facial mask seems to set even sterner, becoming as hard and cold as stone, on hearing the name his eyes flash with a tinge of anger before being hidden again behind the deep unfeeling grey. The man is known to him, a cruel business man with a desire to own and control, a man who know owes him a debt. Speaking quietly again his begins with a harsh tone "Your security detail seems to be sadly lacking" before changing suddenly into a more tender tone "But it will be alright, he wont hurt you again" - the conviction is obvious, and to a large degree dangerous, Joir is not a man to cross, with the full resources of the Imperial Bureau of Operations and the training of a Royal Guard he is a formidable foe.

The aides and onlookers have ceased conversation to look at the dialogue between Joir and Venus. Some may notice Venus from ages ago, others wonder why the director is talking to her. Nonetheless, conversation is not safe in the foyer. In sweet tones, ones that Venus does not often emit, the woman asks, "Are you free? Perhaps we could go to the conference chamber and pass some time together?"

Joir nods to Venus, granting her a small - but genuine smile. Ignoring the gathered aides who appear to be staring to some degree or another he waves his hand towards the door. Speaking with a quiet voice flavoured by an odd mix of authority and gentleness he says "Of course".

Venus inclines her head, regally towards Joir. "I will follow your lead, my lord." She turns gracefully on her heels to follow the man down the corridor, towards the coference chamber, making polite small talk until they can be more alone. Her black eyes maintain an aloofness, yet her physical proximity to Joir shows they are very comfortable with one another.

The conference chamber is large and often impersonal, the huge marble walls and ceilings do a good job of actively creating a powerful replication of Imperial efficiency, however they fail in many regards to provide a warm environment for conversations or meetings. In an effort to remedy this Joir does not take his usual seat at the head of the long conference table, instead taking one of the side seats and swivelling it towards another which he indicates that Venus should take. Smiling once again he looks over Venus, but in a new way - no longer looking completely as a protector he takes in her exquisite body and beautiful face - an Empress indeed!

Venus takes the seat, as directed, and slides into the leather exterior with perfect posture and a regally inclined head, as taught. She offers Joir her ice- cold hand, and inclines her head to him, letting her chilling features melt as her smile grows. "It is so good to see you, my lord. And how well you have done, I always told you that the Empire would recognize you in the name of Palpatine. Did I not?" Venus's eyes brim with warmth, unusual for the woman, and only done in private.

Joir takes the petit hand of the Caspian prime minister, noticing its ice-cold temperature he encloses it within his much larger hand, holding it in a firm, but gentle embrace - a strange contradiction which seems to haunt Joir, how to remain true to his Imperial training while expressing the feelings he has. Hearing her words and noting her smile he grants her a smile of his own, a strangely pure smile - untainted by years of feigned humor - the smile of a man who has little to smile about. "You did my Lady, and you were correct" - strange how the encouragement of a young girl to an insecure warrior meant so much.

Venus takes Joir's hands and places a chaste kiss on the palm. "Congratulations on your well deserved success, my lord. To me, you will always be a mentor, a protector and a friend." Venus's black eyes look up at Joir's, always a touch of melancholy in the seriousness, from years of history. "It really is so good to see you."

A mentor, protector and friend... he has served those roles - happily, but now with the memory of that one fateful night, secretly, perhaps not even entirely consciously he hopes for more. His cold grey eyes stare deep into Venus's which shine in the sterile light light black jewels, exquisite and beautiful. The touch of melancholy is instantly transmitted and Joir answers it with a questioning look, while speaking softly in reply "And you, I hear you have done many things, from Princess to Rebel to Prime minister...." - despite his attempt to cloak his voice, it is apparent that Joir is unhappy about her former alliegances.

Knowing her guard all to well, Venus can pick up on the slightest change of voice or facial expression. She squeezes Joir's hand reassuringly, and speaks in soothing, calm tones. "I was never a Rebel, my lord. I only went to the land that would offer me asylum from Alaric. The important thing is that I am no longer with them. And, through my late grandfather, His Greatness Lord Dekan, I am of Imperial blood. Nothing can deny that."