nysalogs | (mini-event) THE COALITION OF REFUGEES

(mini-event) THE COALITION OF REFUGEES

THE COALITION

On the day of the council, there are markers tied with ribbons in the colors of both Olympia and Wyver that line the paths from the cities to the South Outpost, meant to guide anyone with an invitation to the first meeting of the Coalition of Refugees.

While during the previous festivities of the gala the Great Hall was sharply divided between Olympians and Wyverns, the differences between the factions are not so apparent now. Inside, the hall is decorated with a more subdued mix of the white and gold of Olympia and the red and black of Wyver. Banners, pennants, and bunting drape from the ceiling and wind around wooden pillars. To one side of the hall, there are tables set up with drinks and finger foods — refreshments for the guests, for after the opening speech. A raised platform has been set up at one end of the room, flanked by contingents of both the Royal Guards and the Knightryders standing at attention side by side, differentiated only by the make of their armor and the colors they wear.

Ashti, Shenya, and Heryn stand waiting for the arrival of their monarchs, pointedly ignoring each other; notably, Raysc, Shanrian's son and the leader of Mythi's Fangs, is conspicuously absent.

Staff members cluster to the side of the stage, waiting for the speech to begin. A whisper drifts over from a woman in one of the Olympian groups: Do you really think the Empress will try to negotiate for Nithor's skull?

The man she's speaking to shakes his head and scoffs, answering: Ha! Not a chance. She thinks it's too soon, who knows if this peace will last. Besides, there's no way she's willing to give up Ysevrai's heart.

A horn sounds, and the staff members subside, glancing around to see if anyone's overheard. A moment later, and Simwe and Shanrian make their appearance, walking together to the stage for their speech.

Aha… we have quite the gathering here, do we not? All of our heroes in one place… This may be an unprecedented meeting, but it seems as though it will be a productive one. Let us begin by thanking all of you for your contributions to our cities in recent times.

Since your arrival, you have weathered the plague that swept through our cities and aided us in finding its cure; you have withstood the scorn of those who were meant to shelter you turning against you, and helped us quell riots in the very hearts of our homes; you have been taken right off the streets and endured hardships too terrible to tell, and have proven heroes in bringing our people safely home. You have done much for us, and shown yourselves loyal beyond many who were born within our walls. We will allow your voices to go unheard no longer! Today—

Today, we will hear you. You have demonstrated both strength and valor in equal measures — it follows that you will be wise as well, and it is that wisdom that we wish to hear brought in council to our cities. You are gathered here to look beyond our history of violence and hostility, to see beyond the prejudices we hold. We hope that with your clearer sight, you'll keep in your hearts the betterment of both of our fair cities, rather than allow pettiness to hold sway and lift one over the other.

Those gathered here are deemed worthy by action and by the trust of your brethren: a council. Amongst yourselves, decide what matters most to you about your lives within the cities. Discuss what changes you wish to see, and how those changes should come about. Reach an agreement, put your motions to us, and should they be feasible, we will see what sort of effect your ideas will have. The two proposals with the most support among your fellows will be those we implement, so argue your reasoning most convincingly!

And remember, this is your chance to impress us. If your advice is sound, we will look to you again.

At this, both rulers fall silent, and withdraw to a balcony to oversee the proceedings. This is not their meeting, after all — this is something that only the refugees can determine the outcome of.

FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to your first chance to have a voice in the NPC governments, Players! Your task is, as a group, to decide the two most important IC issues you would like to see Olympia and Wyver address, and then put forward a plan of action for how to improve whatever those problems are, which will then be implemented in May.

Since these are strictly Olympian and Wyvern issues, topics should still adhere to the Natha's policies of not revealing anything about the Storm or the Natha's existence, but beyond that, you're free to propose any topics you think should be addressed about your characters' way of life in the cities — after all, haven't the Orbiters sent you here to make a difference and improve life on El Nysa in their stead?

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And if I just grabbed you right now?

[She shifted her weight towards him, moving so she was closer, within touching range.]

If I just hurt you good a little right here...?

I would curse very loud, draw attention to you and then you would cuss me out and storm off. You don't like attention, remember?

[He smirked knowingly.]

Depends on the attention. You don't know me as well as you think you do, Rumlow.

[Another step, her hand moving to rest on his chest.]

Oh yeah? I think we've shared a few secrets.

[He let her into his space, watching her from the corner of his eye even as he continued to survey the comings and goings of others around them.]

No, I have. You've just watched and filed everything away for later.

[Her hand slid up to his pec, her finger finding the outline of his nipple, circling it through his shirt.]

Or the 'storm' could find and devour the whole place.

[ Internal shrug. Jim's not wholly convinced of The End Times, and probably won't ever be, given his experience with crazy shit in space. It'd be nice to have consistent behavior from the folks upstairs, though, really. ]

Well, for a PI, you aren't very good at asking questions. I figure you're laying in wait to find out what you can from who I meet, what I do and all that jazz. Isn't that the game?

[He leaned into her touch, aware of what was likely to come.]

Though, maybe asking questions means you're getting attached and there's no way you'll do that.

Used to be a PI. Now I'm just... I have no idea what I am.

[Which was a large part of why she was so easily riled lately. She'd had something back home. Now she had to figure out where she fit in here, and she hadn't found that spot yet.

Her nail circled a little harder around the hardening tip of his nipple, looking up at him from under her lashes.]

No way I'd do that at all...

Well, I like them. [She doesn't reach out to touch them, like she had back in the cave, even if she wants to. But they're in public, and that's something a little too intimate, gives too much away for her to do it in the middle of the dancefloor, even if the same meaning holds in her blue eyes.

She does laugh a little when he mentions Rogers, a wry sort of smile curving her red lips as they danced, swaying to the beat of the music, letting him lead as she followed. He's right, of course. Ava's tastes have never exactly ]

Well, Steve's nice, but he's not quite my type. So I'd still pick you for a magazine cover.

[And not just because of Peggy- but also because of Peggy. Steve was just too good, really. She liked him, they were friendly, but she felt a little like he wanted to save her from the bad things that had happened to her, and she couldn't be saved. In truth, she didn't even really want to be saved. Her life was her life, except for when Natasha's life was her life. And that was just what it was.

And he still owed her a sparring match.

He chuckles and she smiles. Her tone is a little coy, but overall pleased. It even blossoms into a grin as he picks her up by the waist, twirling her around in the air, and she lets him, trusts him to do it. There's a thrill to it, too. The strength in his hands, the easy way that he shows off.

She's a little flushed, her eyes bright by the time she has both feet on the ground again. And there's a pause, and she looks up at him, a little bit pleased at the way that he calls it an ego boost, but also the fact that he calls it cute. Which maybe isn't exactly reciprocation, but it's something nice, the sort of compliments that Ava got so rarely, and almost never genuinely.] Well, I just wanted to make sure. It's been a while since I had someone I wanted to flirt with, you know.

You really think I'm cute?

[She plays it off easily enough, but the claim that it's been a while since she had someone to flirt with is a slightly tragic understatement. So maybe she's fishing for compliments, just a little, because she likes the way it makes her feel when Rumlow says it. And hell knows she hasn't exactly had a lot of them in her life.]

So you're aimless. That would put anyone on edge.

[He felt a bit of that himself, but that was the whole point of doing this sort of thing. He needed to find his feet in this place, and he certainly wasn't looking for anyone to do it for him either.

He watched her, waiting for her next move, trying to decide exactly when she was going to strike, if ever.]

Of course not. You don't attach yourself to many people. Bet it's just a handful.

You know me so well.

[It was said with heavy emphasis on the sarcasm, her finger still circling his nipple before she leaned in, ghosting a kiss over his lips.]

Not well enough not to overestimate a lot of things, though.

[She didn't do what he thought she was going to do. No nipple tweaking. No pinching. No hitting or twisting or anything. Just that light touch of her lips to his before she stepped back. She grabbed her beer and turned to go.]

Seems my aimless self wants to go that way. Have fun, Broccoli. Fight the good fight, oo-rah or whatever.

[He was amused at how little she thought of all the possibilities that he considered, and the fact that she decided to tease and then do nothing more than that was high up on the list. She was cute in assuming that she had the upper hand, when she was just playing into the one of many he happened to be running.

When she stepped aside, he swept into a deep bow, smirking at her.]

Have a good evening, Miss Jones. I'm sure our paths will cross again someday. You keep out of trouble now.

[She was awful fond of his burn scars, even if she hadn't even seen them all. He kept himself out of his usual characteristic tight fitted t-shirts since coming here, restricting himself to long-sleeved shirts. There was nothing he could do about the scars on his face, since he didn't exactly come prepared with sunglasses and everyone would likely look at him oddly anyway.]

Oh you like them tall, dark and muscled, do you? Or is it the sarcasm and bad-boy attitude that gets you all spinning?

[Rogers tended to be a crowd favourite among the ladies from what he could tell, but the guy was so dedicated to Carter it was hard to think of the two existing beyond each other sometimes. He hadn't associated with either of them much lately, which was likely that he had passed beneath their notice once he had not shown himself to be much use or a threat.

There was no need to show off, since this dance was about having fun. He was strong, and she was agile, so they worked well off of each other without even having to try that hard. He knew what he was doing, so there was no particular risk to the idea that he might drop her or pitch her by accident. And she's flushed with all of that, the dance and maybe spending a bit too much time hanging around him.]

I'll be your guinea pig for flirting endeavors then. I have basically no shame.

[He tilted his head as he regarded for a long moment, returning to swaying them together as he considered the question. She was definitely fishing for compliments, but then again, she was a lab freak show thanks to her parents and had grown up in the Red Room. It wasn't difficult to think she wasn't exactly blooming from the right kinds of compliments.]

Cute, no, not really. {He smiled at her, though it was with his usual cock-sure attitude behind it all.] I'd have to say you're grown into a very beautiful young woman who presently shines in this dress. Even outside of it, you're engaging and oddly non-judgmental, which is refreshing.

You stay out of my way and maybe I might manage that.

[With that last not really a quip-quip, she sauntered off, preparing to get roaring drunk and possibly fly into a few trees on the way home.]

Tall, dark, interesting, just enough sarcasm to make me smile, a fun dancer, and yeah the pretty face and the muscles- especially those arms- don't hurt.

[There's a curl to her lips there, a pointed look at Rumlow's biceps, and if she was a little bit braver, not quite so new to this, her hand on his shoulder might have slid down to mark her point. As it is, she just smiles impishly with that look from under her eyelashes. But just saying those words out loud, to his face, is pretty brazen by her usual standards.

And she meant it, which was perhaps the most risky part of all. Even Natasha had tried to make her not care, to make her bitter and cold. Ava had a strength that wasn't so much about not breaking as it was about her experiences not making her cruel. She laughs a little when he makes the guinea pig comment, a teasing edge as she looks at him.]

Oh, I dunno. You're not a guinea pig. If I was going to compare you to an animal, I think it'd be more a badger.

[See? It's even a play on his name. Isn't she cute? For all the seriousness of the night in the blizzard, there is a lightness to her when she's comfortable around someone. But there's a quiet earnestness is the sentiment; guinea pigs are pets and lab rats, and he's better than that. Badgers are predators that prey on venomous snakes, and the name of a Soviet bomber that was in service for the better part of sixty years.

And then he follows her playfulness with a real, genuine sort of compliment, and she flushes, swallows as she looks up at him because that's the sort of thing no one's ever said to her. She might have been finishing, but she hadn't expected... that. She does do him the favor of not getting too affected on him, but his words matter, make her eyes glow a little. No one's ever called her beautiful, and very few people have even made her feel interesting outside of the power in her veins.]

I hoped you'd like the dress. [It's the first thing she can manage to say that doesn't feel like pushing too much, or giving away too much all at once. Her face feels hot, and she knows she's probably blushing, but she doesn't really care.]

Honestly, I get the feeling that most people don't give you enough of a chance. [And knowing about the Hydra piece of the story, she imagines that for Steve anyway that's probably his focus. But she thinks he's more than that, that he's not just Hydra- just like Natasha was more than just the Red Room.]

So I'm the full meal deal, huh? I'd say that I could super-size that, but the copyright infringement would be too expensive. Plus, I hate McDonalds with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

[He went with the flow of the conversation, noting the glance of her eyes and maybe for the first time entertaining the idea that Ava was setting herself up for a very nasty reality check when it came to him. He wasn't the kind of man that people stayed with long and certainly wasn't one that anyone built a deep connection with. Back on Earth, it had been because of his job, his secrecy and his general lack of willingness to commit himself to anything other than HYDRA. Now that he was in the wind, he was almost less willing to commit because who knew when he would be turned back into an ice cube in a box.

Rumlow had to laugh when she compared him to a badger, though it wasn't far off when he thought about it. There were not a lot of shits that he gave, wasn't afraid to take on the most venomous of snakes, and he was never afraid of putting himself in danger for a goal.]

Maybe a Honey Badger. Those assholes stop at nothing to be assholes, and they have some serious skills.

[Of course, making her flush was the goal, putting her back on her heels as he recognized that someone in Ava's position was likely not to feel compliments much, least of all genuine ones. There were plenty of backhanded compliments that came in most conversations, but she was going to have to get used to conversations in general again, and not just the ones that came with living in SHIELD Academy (where everything was a code for something) or the streets (where everything was a code for something).

He liked that she struggled to come up with something in reply.] Oh, I very much do. It looks very nice on you. [Her blush was almost darker than her red hair, and he chuckled in amusement to the sight of it.]

Or I don't give people a reason to give me a chance. [There was a reason that he often played the jerk card more often than not. These people weren't his team, weren't people that wouldn't look at his extreme views and consider them insane. In his mind, most people had already made their decision about him before ever putting in the effort, and that was just plain human nature. First impressions were everything.] You shouldn't worry about me. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself in the big wide vicious world.

But the fact that both sides are convinced the other is their sworn enemy, [ she replies with a huff of breath. ] It's some ancient grudge, from my understanding. Spans well into myth.

[ Peggy glances over at him, brow quirked. ]

And we're meant to know and understand that. [ As refugees from neighbouring towns, not neighbouring worlds. ] But you may have arrived at a good time, Mr Jones, if they're willing to indulge suggestions from the people. Where did you say you were from?

[ He hadn't, but — she can place the accent. Distinctly Welsh. But that doesn't mean anything here. She's met people who sound as English as they come but have never heard of the place. ]

[Rocket cants his head, looking up.] Why would you even say that? I mean, I say shit like that, but that's 'cause I'm me. I'm a terrible person.

Keeping things in perspective.

[ Weren't you the one disappointed with no attack, pal?? ] I've seen 'the apocalypse' a couple of times, maybe I'm inappropriately jaded.

[...... D'aawwwwwwwwww.]

One could say the same for yourself.

[There. You made him admit to it. Happy?]

And I only do what I can in ways I know how. In a world where there are so many who are trained knowing how to fight and use such unique skills the least I could do to compensate is help aide the government and its people.

Surely you wouldn't mind being one of those I recommend for this project should it come to pass?

That's not so different, then.

( hopeful is perhaps a good word for it. nightingale is reminded of a conversation he's had with hugh in the 60s — about a frisson in the air, a sense of excitement. nightingale hadn't felt it then, had put hugh's sense of it down to the introduction of miniskirts in general fashion.

it had been magic returning to the world, then. he doesn't think that's it now at all, but he's been wrong about it before. he shrugs now, something nostalgic in the curve of his smile. )

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. ( if the words seem like an echo of something, that's because they are: an echo of a younger him. )

I never got into 19th century criticism, but it's interesting how certain saying survive, [ Jim says, in French. His accent isn't anything to be proud of (Uhura would be offended), but the ease in which he switches despite the odd interference of the translation 'magic' illustrates a certain kind of education. Or mind. (Or both.) ]

Real change is possible, even with populations as stubborn as humans. It's just - unfortunate, sometimes, how fully scorched earth the baseline has to be not to fall back on the same habits.

[ In all fairness, Mikazuki only knew he could ask for something crazy because he's pretty much the product of the Natha's craziness, being able to stand here alive and all. But he wisely keeps that to himself, not taking the machine's hum for granted. ]

Who knows, maybe you still can.

[ You altruist. ]

Hopefully this'll work out for now.

[ Filling the crazy cool quota, and all. Also, give him a run down. ]

[ Gaze flicking to the offered bag, he reaches aside to fish a chip out. Putting it to his lip before responding, he hums in thought. ]

It seems like it. But it's hard to tell for sure.

[ Whatever the case, he's making good on not taking chances.

Hence showing up with firepower. ]

Well, I dunno if I'd go that far. But you're at least a jumbo jack.

[She laughs, easy and light, impish with a wicked glint to her blue eyes for a moment as they keep dancing. For all that she might be interested in him, and progressively less coy about it, the way that she looks at him is more appreciation than adoration. She thinks she knows what she's getting into, or at least thinks that if she's wrong that it's something they can work out, if he's interested, or could be. So far it's been surprisingly easy to talk to him and that makes it easier.

Instead of being offended at the insinuation, he just runs with it, and that just makes her smile warmer.] Barsuk.

[She says it in Russian, and then tilts her head thoughtfully when the sound of it isn't quite right, not for a nickname anyway. She still moves with him, that sway of her hips, moving with him. She's still not quite over the compliments, the way that he says he likes her dress on her, and it's just nice, things she's not used to hearing. But while it might have her back on her heels a bit, having a bit of trouble with correct retorts, she doesn't back down or pull away.

She just lets it be what it is. She's blushing and they're dancing, and there are people around but it's fine. There's maybe a little bit of a hum to her fingers; not a shock, but like standing too close to powerlines, just that faint hum of what could be.] Barochka? Baryusha.

[She grins, then, having clearly decided on what she wanted. Congrats, Rumlow, now you have a Russian nickname. It will never die, just potentially get more and more cutesy, depending on the occasion. The curl of her lips says it might be turn about for making her blush, but maybe it's just because Russian's always been a comfort for Ava, and Brock doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.]

That's not why I worry. It's easier to find a place here when you know people that will back you up, that's all.

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(mini-event) THE COALITION OF REFUGEES

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