as written by Azrican
“Oh please, fucking shoot me.” Josif replied shortly, his teeth bearing for a moment at the slim, auburn haired figure in front of him. The uniform did little to humble him as a ‘civilian official’, as he plucked the belt link and holster from the ornate Charnissian marble that sat upon the nightstand of his bed. He tossed it away onto the pristine Fienkan maple, inducing a scuff upon such a cherished material that might often see an orderly flogged; had Josif fancied himself a man of the ‘older’ tactics. “Please. Really, I like the way you look when you pull a trigger.”
The shirtless man gave a boyish smile at the woman standing with her arms crossed opposite from him. On his desk, at the true end of his desk, laid countless stacks of ‘vitalized’ information: data and various facets of ‘intelligence’ the Prime Minister had found himself just so uninterested in a few hours prior. They were here now, of course, and that was simply something he would need to accommodate for. The fact it was, in New Empyrian time, roughly several hours past noon was not much of a concern to Josif at the moment though; perhaps it was due to the Provocom’s sudden appearance at his residence.
He was, essentially, the leader of the free galaxy of course. Why was some military dog given such easy access to him?
“Provided the Revolt had lasted for a few months longer, I might just consider putting a bullet in you Josif.”
The statement brought a slim, glimmering attitude about the Hykan as he held the comforter over his waist with one hand and fetched at a pair of suit pants he had left on the floor from the night prior. “Oh please my gracious Provocom -- if you’d like to just end me and build a junta feel free.” He replied harshly, dropping the comforter precisely as Jessica had turned to face him.
She was treated to a few, precious, seconds of the capsuleer fitting the pants onto his form before he caught her eyes with his. “I’ll be sure to leave plenty of fucking of civists for you to work with -- you know, those kinda’ guys who just love to pick-and-peck about your funding.”
“I have to make a report to the Federate -- “ General Rohnfeld replied with a flying flinch, turning her entire body from the man standing against the large bed. “And you need to at least promote the image of a dutifully elected slob that doesn’t talk with his … well.”
Josif took a rather defined position at the woman’s words. Then a few minutes later his appearance was one of simple observation: the Empyrian eyed at the Nordanic woman with a shifting look upon her features. “ … I manage a chivalrous appearance, Herr Rohnfeld.” He bluntly said, as he finished buttoning the suit, then foraged for a jacket and shirt. Then he came floundering around the bed and gave Jessica the visage of the First Chairman pointing at her like how he appeared in Federate propaganda images. “I want you, to help me keep this fucking civilization afloat!”
Jessica felt herself recoiling at the despicable, nearly obnoxious man in front of him. The fact he remained in that stoic position waiting for her hand made her want to, in simple terms, commit treason at this very moment.
“You’re an idealist, I get it. Let me assure you General, these situations are … simply political.” He replied, prying the undershirt and jacket from the dresser at the far wall of the room. He was quick to press the neat button-up over his figure, obscuring the deep lines and slips carving about his torso. “You don’t trust people like me, either. I get that, too.”
“You’re not a person Prime Minister.”
Josif bristled, peeking away from his dresser and peering over his shoulder to the Templar. The marine appeared like a tower to the man, her exoskin giving her five or so inches above the man as he dressed himself. “I’m not a what, my General?”
“A person.”
“ … God damn that just makes me feel quite unrealized.” He replied softly, his whole body lowering, the undershirt prying upwards to reveal the lower crests of an Calsatian symbol as he pried a suit jacket up into either arm and then slide it down across his back. “Y’know of all my cabinet members, I value my military commanders the most.” Josif said though a pale, implicating tone dominated his words as he spun around to lean against the dresser. “I’d hate to have to find a new fucking Provocom.”
Jessica’s otherwise soft features were steeled at the man in front of her, as if transmitting just as much a hostility as she received from the figure in front of her. The impetulant man child that was the Prime Minister of the Interstellar Coalition as she had come to know him was, in many of her regards, just that.
Many considered him the leader of the free galaxy. She (in line with the rest of the Apparatus) considered him the leader of the greatest collective of lazy, apathetic know-it-alls this side of the Veil.
“We facilitate coups, we don’t personally enact them, Prime Minister.” She replied, stoically facing him as he decided to properly clothe himself (for now at least) and dress himself in attire that was befitting of the office he held. Josif began to forage through the dresser, looking through entire collections of ties as the sun began to crawl through over the horizon; as seen from New Empyria’s Coalition City. As the first lights began to pierce through the metallic veils of the Prime Minister’s bedroom, both Josif and Jessica seemed to stop for a moment.
His eyes seemed to fix on the blistering star beginning to rise up across the clouds, dousing C-City with it’s rays a whole thirty minutes or so before the rest of the planet; due to the microcontinent’s massive repulsor plates that held the entire city afloat.
Jessica watched the festering night bleed away, purged out by Empyria’s powerful dual suns. She watched the sunlight flood into the room for a moment; saw how it brightened the walls, the way it split through the intricate crystal bust mounted against the wall.
“Provocom … or should I say Jessica?” Josif replied softly, fastening his belt one final loop as the star began to brightly shine above the clouds. Jessica felt herself turning inward at the question, though soon found tranquility with the heated, warm star glistening against a field of clouds that Coalition City was known for.
“Provocom. Though in certain cases … “ The General’s words caught in her throat for a moment, and then more seconds went by without her response. Her hands remained locked by her side, watching the sunrise with this man that had, months ago, been a deadly enemy -- or what he was known before as, was a deadly enemy. She kept a ready eye on Josif Regievko though, the democratically elected Prime Minister of the Interstellar Coalition.
And the man who orchestrated the Iron Revolt.
“In certain cases I can call you Jessica. Wonderful, General. I hope to keep you as a friend.”
“Oh please, fucking shoot me.” Josif replied shortly, his teeth bearing for a moment at the slim, auburn haired figure in front of him. The uniform did little to humble him as a ‘civilian official’, as he plucked the belt link and holster from the ornate Charnissian marble that sat upon the nightstand of his bed. He tossed it away onto the pristine Fienkan maple, inducing a scuff upon such a cherished material that might often see an orderly flogged; had Josif fancied himself a man of the ‘older’ tactics. “Please. Really, I like the way you look when you pull a trigger.”
The shirtless man gave a boyish smile at the woman standing with her arms crossed opposite from him. On his desk, at the true end of his desk, laid countless stacks of ‘vitalized’ information: data and various facets of ‘intelligence’ the Prime Minister had found himself just so uninterested in a few hours prior. They were here now, of course, and that was simply something he would need to accommodate for. The fact it was, in New Empyrian time, roughly several hours past noon was not much of a concern to Josif at the moment though; perhaps it was due to the Provocom’s sudden appearance at his residence.
He was, essentially, the leader of the free galaxy of course. Why was some military dog given such easy access to him?
“Provided the Revolt had lasted for a few months longer, I might just consider putting a bullet in you Josif.”
The statement brought a slim, glimmering attitude about the Hykan as he held the comforter over his waist with one hand and fetched at a pair of suit pants he had left on the floor from the night prior. “Oh please my gracious Provocom -- if you’d like to just end me and build a junta feel free.” He replied harshly, dropping the comforter precisely as Jessica had turned to face him.
She was treated to a few, precious, seconds of the capsuleer fitting the pants onto his form before he caught her eyes with his. “I’ll be sure to leave plenty of fucking of civists for you to work with -- you know, those kinda’ guys who just love to pick-and-peck about your funding.”
“I have to make a report to the Federate -- “ General Rohnfeld replied with a flying flinch, turning her entire body from the man standing against the large bed. “And you need to at least promote the image of a dutifully elected slob that doesn’t talk with his … well.”
Josif took a rather defined position at the woman’s words. Then a few minutes later his appearance was one of simple observation: the Empyrian eyed at the Nordanic woman with a shifting look upon her features. “ … I manage a chivalrous appearance, Herr Rohnfeld.” He bluntly said, as he finished buttoning the suit, then foraged for a jacket and shirt. Then he came floundering around the bed and gave Jessica the visage of the First Chairman pointing at her like how he appeared in Federate propaganda images. “I want you, to help me keep this fucking civilization afloat!”
Jessica felt herself recoiling at the despicable, nearly obnoxious man in front of him. The fact he remained in that stoic position waiting for her hand made her want to, in simple terms, commit treason at this very moment.
“You’re an idealist, I get it. Let me assure you General, these situations are … simply political.” He replied, prying the undershirt and jacket from the dresser at the far wall of the room. He was quick to press the neat button-up over his figure, obscuring the deep lines and slips carving about his torso. “You don’t trust people like me, either. I get that, too.”
“You’re not a person Prime Minister.”
Josif bristled, peeking away from his dresser and peering over his shoulder to the Templar. The marine appeared like a tower to the man, her exoskin giving her five or so inches above the man as he dressed himself. “I’m not a what, my General?”
“A person.”
“ … God damn that just makes me feel quite unrealized.” He replied softly, his whole body lowering, the undershirt prying upwards to reveal the lower crests of an Calsatian symbol as he pried a suit jacket up into either arm and then slide it down across his back. “Y’know of all my cabinet members, I value my military commanders the most.” Josif said though a pale, implicating tone dominated his words as he spun around to lean against the dresser. “I’d hate to have to find a new fucking Provocom.”
Jessica’s otherwise soft features were steeled at the man in front of her, as if transmitting just as much a hostility as she received from the figure in front of her. The impetulant man child that was the Prime Minister of the Interstellar Coalition as she had come to know him was, in many of her regards, just that.
Many considered him the leader of the free galaxy. She (in line with the rest of the Apparatus) considered him the leader of the greatest collective of lazy, apathetic know-it-alls this side of the Veil.
“We facilitate coups, we don’t personally enact them, Prime Minister.” She replied, stoically facing him as he decided to properly clothe himself (for now at least) and dress himself in attire that was befitting of the office he held. Josif began to forage through the dresser, looking through entire collections of ties as the sun began to crawl through over the horizon; as seen from New Empyria’s Coalition City. As the first lights began to pierce through the metallic veils of the Prime Minister’s bedroom, both Josif and Jessica seemed to stop for a moment.
His eyes seemed to fix on the blistering star beginning to rise up across the clouds, dousing C-City with it’s rays a whole thirty minutes or so before the rest of the planet; due to the microcontinent’s massive repulsor plates that held the entire city afloat.
Jessica watched the festering night bleed away, purged out by Empyria’s powerful dual suns. She watched the sunlight flood into the room for a moment; saw how it brightened the walls, the way it split through the intricate crystal bust mounted against the wall.
“Provocom … or should I say Jessica?” Josif replied softly, fastening his belt one final loop as the star began to brightly shine above the clouds. Jessica felt herself turning inward at the question, though soon found tranquility with the heated, warm star glistening against a field of clouds that Coalition City was known for.
“Provocom. Though in certain cases … “ The General’s words caught in her throat for a moment, and then more seconds went by without her response. Her hands remained locked by her side, watching the sunrise with this man that had, months ago, been a deadly enemy -- or what he was known before as, was a deadly enemy. She kept a ready eye on Josif Regievko though, the democratically elected Prime Minister of the Interstellar Coalition.
And the man who orchestrated the Iron Revolt.
“In certain cases I can call you Jessica. Wonderful, General. I hope to keep you as a friend.”
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