Location: Orion Café, Comorro Participants: Ladaran, Rathenthorpe, Alenya, Jocaira, Rachael, Keaton
Rathenhope has just arrived in the cafe with Joca and Alenya. He's headed for one of the corner tables with a reserved sign - perhaps someone has already arranged for a meeting in here. "Really, I'm not expecting anything terrible," he remarks simply to the other two. "But it's nice to have you here, just in case."
Jocaira saunters alongside Rathenhope, a smouldering cigarillo dangling from the corner of her mouth. She chuckles, low and husky, the jingling of belts and bangles playing counter-rhythm to her footfalls. "Ahn, nussing wrong wis a leetle moral support, Monsieur T'omas. Per'aps se emissaire will appreciate being taken seriously, non?"
Alenya responds to Rathenhope while adjusting a pair of thin, gold, wire-rimmed glasses that seem to have appeared out of a pocket on their walk over. Now with bunned-up hair and bespectacled, the diminutive woman looks every bit a displaced librarian. Standing nearest she can to both Rathy and Joca without being intrusive on personal space, the woman speaks softly in response, "Yes, political maneuvering can be a sticky business; advisors are always a good idea."
The red cloaked Emissary of the Dominion enters the Cafe, along with two scaley Idaran guards. He motions for them to remain near the entrance, as the cloaked figure moves across the cafe towards the table where Rathenhope and company are seated. As he makes his way to the table, the cloaked figure remains standing still, hood partially covering his head and face, looking down at the table. He waits, patiently, until he is addressed.
Rachael comes in shortly after. She does seem to note the guards, looking at them for several seconds, but then continues on her way to a table.
Rathenhope grins a little at the other two as he takes a seat. As the Emissary arrives he looks up at the being before standing and offering a slight bow. "Good day. You are the Emissary from the Dominion, I assume?" he asks carefully, offering a hand towards the cloaked figure. "Captain Thomas Rathenhope of Sanctuary."
Jocaira runs the tips of her index finger and thumb down her tongue, and pinches off the tip of the cigarillo. The twisted-off blunt is set in the ashtray on the table, and the merc boss brushes her hands off carefully. She touches the first two fingers of her right hand to her forehead in a small salute, inclining her head to the Emissary but otherwise saying nothing.
If at all possible, the petite Ms. Fisher shrinks even more, her shoulders curving inward, giving her the air of a meek and bookish woman. As a matter of course, a leather-bound book is produced, flipped open, and an archaic quill pen poised, at the ready, over a page. Without speaking, a glance is shot toward Joca, over the rim of the gilt glasses, and the librarian leans softly to the side, so that her hip makes contact with Rathenhope's side; perhaps the weight of the book is too much for her frail frame to support.
"Captain Rathenhope. A pleasure to meet you. I am Emissary Ladaran, of Circe. I have been dispatched from the Dominion Council to meet with you regarding relations between the Dominion and the facility known as Sanctuary." The man says, removing his hood to reveal his Myini features. The Emissary offers a polite nod to the others in the group.
Rachael gets up from her table to go to the bar, "A small pastry. Do you have those here?" she asks quietly, though once again she looks at the Idaran guards by the door.
Rathenhope leaves his hand hanging for a moment before withdrawing it. "Please, take a seat?" he suggests, indicating said seat. "My adviser, Ms. Fisher," he says, indicating Alenya. "And my bodyguard, Jocaira," he adds, gesturing with a smile. "I hope your travel was satisfactory?" he asks Ladaran.
Jocaira casually hooks one leg over the other and leans back against her chair with a slight jingle of belts and bangles. There are a few people in the Cafe'; Rathenhope, Alenya and Jocaira are at a corner table still sporting a 'reserved' sign. The Myini Emissary is standing at the head of said table, and there are Idaran guards at the entrance. Rachael is at the bar, and appears to be placing an order. The general mood amongst speakers is presently very polite.
Keaton arrives from Commorite Hub.
Keaton has arrived.
Alenya begins to scribble in the book, the limpid malachite gaze lying lazily upon the page as the pen moves over it, letters and words looped out over browned, vellum pages.
Chink. Clink. Keaton makes his way to the cafe with a quiet smile on his features. A polite nod is given to the guards as the Atlantean Noble makes his way to the bar to make an order of lyodka, an arm leaning on the counter with a wave towards Jocaira's group mostly directed at the woman he knows at it, then a nod towards Rachael with a grin, "Good day for a drink," he says. Taking an Atlantean Tome from his jacket to quill notes on it.
"Indeed, it was satisfactory. The battlecruiser Windseeker, a new Idaran-Myini hybrid warship, brought me here." The Myini replies, as he remains standing. "Please, indicate what it is you wish to discuss and I will see if I can be of assistance." "Oh. You can have a drink if you want. I only want my pastry." Rachael says quietly as she pays and turns to head to a table.
Rathenhope considers and retakes his seat, leaning back and steepling his fingers. "There are... three points I would like to discuss," he muses after a moment. "Firstly, I wish to convey that Sanctuary will stay absolutely neutral. Sanctuary will not seek conflict with the Dominion, nor its allies, nor its enemies. We are willing to trade with all parties and have no wish to involve ourselves in military matters."
Jocaira does not return the wave from the Atlantean. She is presently remaining seated by Captain Rathenhope, her ocean-colored eyes remaining mostly on him but occasionally sliding across the Emissary, the guards, and, with least priority, everyone else in the cafe'.
Alenya continues her scribbling, the plume of the pen twitching like a hyperactive squirrel's tail. She doesn't speak, and doesn't appear to be aware of anyone else in the cafe other than those at her table. Once the Sanctuary Captain sits, the advising Alenya shifts her posture as well, a wider stance taken to support her and the overlarge codex.
Keaton twirls up his quill as the lyodka arrives and the Atlantean takes a swig and slams up extra credits with a grunt and then swivels on his area to take in his surroundings. His Tome finds his way to his lap and a flick of his fingers causes the pages to swish to a specific area for reading and quilling data. A swig of his lykoda again and its half full.
The Emissary listens to the Captain's list, nodding as he goes. "I can assure you, Captain, that as long as Sanctuary remains neutral, not siding with anyone, that the Dominion will let it be, and the planet blow it." Ladaran replies, smiling. "Trade is acceptable as well. We have opened trade relations with a select few planets. Tavros. Imperiul Baile. And the Svajone Coalition. Sanctuary could be added to the list. As it stands, travel and trade are restricted to only those on the safe list. The only thing we would want in return is access to Sanctuary to conduct negotiations and private diploamtic meetings. We seek peaceful relations with many of the planets in the Expanse. We are not all about war, despite what some may say."
And with that Rachael takes a seat at a nearby table, taking her pastry and taking a bite of it. She seems quite pleased with this, or at least as cheerful as she usually is.
Rathenhope smiles back to Ladaran. "Thank you, Emissary. That is what I had hoped to hear. I would like to open trade relations, of course," he says agreeably. "Though there are two minor points I would like to raise. Firstly, we are separate from Irinnar - while we orbit it, we have no say in her governance. If it was to take sides in a conflict, we would not have any say in this. We would of course then take steps to relocate." He pauses, taking a breath. "Secondly, Sanctuary is just that, a place of sanctuary. We have embassies aboard, and if an enemy of the Dominion was aboard, it is unlikely we would hand them over to the Dominion. Or, indeed, a member of the Dominion to her enemies."
Jocaira steeples her fingers, and turns slightly to beckon a server over, placing a murmured order for a drink while still keeping her eyes on those presently at the table. Her expression remains appraising.
Alenya raises her eyes from the page, her head following suit until she's peering at Jocaira again. The look is significant, drawn out, and piercing. In Fisher's librarian-come-advisor role, it might even appear disapproving. Despite her inattention to the page, she keeps on recording, ink still flowing out of the ancient-appearing pen, and onto the paper.
Atlanteans with books. Keaton quills further on his and glances up at the guards, jerking a thumb towards the counter as if asking if they would care for a drink at post. Then a quiet smile and his lyodka is drained more and it seems the youth twirls it about his fingers with a grumble and asks for more from the bartender.
Nodding, Ladaran eyes the man carefully. "Those are satisfactory conditions, Captain. We will not trample over your neutrality. But for the sake of simplifying the matter, we will not engage Irinnar. That would cause too many issues for you. However, I am prepared to offer up something else. Your neutrality is of paramount importance, I can see that." The Myini pauses, thinking. "With our recent acquisition of Cerulean from the maddness of it's pathetic fool of a leader, Ladek Dall, we announced that we would offer up Cerulean as neutral ground. It is close to both rifts. We would graciously offer it to Sanctuary. A truely neutral world for you to do as you please with. You can monitor the Dominion, monitor the war. And report back. As a stricly neutral observer, your word carries importance in the Expanse. We would guarantee Cerulean neutrality, and if Sanctuary were to move there, we would honor our agreement with you. The choice is yours, Captain."
And the pastry continues to interest Rachael as she continues to eat. The small woman only moving her chair slightly closer to her table.
Rathenhope stares at Ladaran for a long moment, his face betraying his surprise at being offered a planet. There's a long pause as he fights to respond. "Respectfully Emissary, I would have to decline. I believe it would harm Sanctuary's neutrality to accept such a gift from the Dominion, especially in the eyes of the Expanse. I would, however, be interested to monitor the war as suggested. I can promise you the utmost honesty in reporting." He tilts his head slightly, offering a small smile to Alenya and Joca as he talks.
Jocaira smiles back at Rathenhope readily, but darts the tip of her tongue across a gold-backed canine tooth and watches, intently, for the Emissary's reaction.
Alenya sniffs, curling the pen into the palm of her hand before employing one finger to push them back up onto the bridge of her nose. Eye contact is made with the smiling Tom before the quill meets paper again, and the scratching of a fountain tip resumes.
Lyodka comes. And it goes. And it remaineth. Keaton keeps them coming like a party to chug. Atlantean metabolism? Possibly. Though the youth gives less than an indication he is listening, mental notes are made of the words at that table when Cerulean is mentioned. Good thing people have fallguys, right? A sip is given as his drinking slows and a grunt comes for another drink, glancing to Rachael, "Got any recommendations?" he asks, tapping his mug, "You seem to be enjoying the food."
"Do not consider it a gift, Captain. Consider it the Dominion giving up control in the hopes of prolonged peace. In order for the planet to remain neutral, and for the Expanse to know that we are not here to conquer everything in sight. But if you insist, it will remain in Dominion hands. We would rather give it up to a neutral party, not to curry favor though. It would be easier on everyone if it was given to a neutral party and not remain in our control. We will not give it back to Dall's wayward followers, however. If not, we are prepared to land troops immediately on Cerulean and use it as an operating base." Ladaran says, shrugging. "As for reporting on the war, that would be satisfactory. There are news organizations in this region intent on slandering the Dominion."
"It is called a pastry. It is bread, and sweet." Rachael answers simply.
Rathenhope considers that for a long moment and then nods. "Perhaps give me a week, Emissary? I may be able to make alternate arrangements that will be satisfactory to all parties," he suggests. "We certainly have no desire to slander any parties," he agrees. Whatever it is that Joca's observing, she keeps on observing it, even as her drink is placed at her elbow. Without averting her gaze, she dredges a credit chit from the depths of her cleavage and passes it to the server between two fingers.
Alenya's pen continues to scribble, scritch and scratch away at the paper. She's now reaching the bottom of the second page, the sharp sound of treated vellum breaking into the conversation as the tract is pull up and over, and the scratching resumes anew.
Fliiiip. The sound of Keaton's thumb causes a sound as pages flip along and his quill scribes runes and symbols as an Atlantean language on his book, a thumbs up for Rachael, to the bartender, though, "I would like a lyodka with cherry flavoring," his voice sounds quietly tipsy, and a chuckle with his other hand bringing a credit disc to hand the man.
"Very good, Captain. One week. Our ships will monitor the planet, no one will be permitted on it. You may announce our 'neutral' partnership and trade alliance." Ladaran says, smiling. "This will be a fruitful relationship, I guarantee that. Your time this evening is appreciated, Captain. But I must attend to other things. I shall take my leave, if that is alright?" He asks. And having finished her pastry, Rachael stands and leaves.
"That is of course fine," smiles Rathenhope, standing. "I thank you for your time, Emissary. I will update the news networks as to our trade alliance in the next 24 hours," he says with a firm nod. "Fly safe and true, Emissary. Jupiter's light be with you."
Jocaira rises as Rathenhope rises, clasping her hands loosely behind her back and once again inclining her head to the Emissary. Keaton shifts up his book with a shuffle of his hands and offers a quiet smile to the bartender. Ordering a crate of lyodka the Atlantean stands to clean up before actually thinking of making his way.
The Myini raises the red hood back over his face, offering a nod to the group then turning to the guards. "Let's go." He says to them, as they depart the cafe for his ship.