NationStates Jolt Archive

Imperial Palace, Arpia - Reploid Productions

Firefury sits at her spartan desk, the reploid's ears still stinging from a most thorough talking to by her Foreign Affairs secretary, Tsume. While she is the supreme executive power in the country, even she is not beyond reproach, especially by those who help her manage the Shogunate. Geez, Tsume, I know I blew it on this Angelus fiasco. Did you really have to tear me a new one for over... cripes, what, two hours about it?

Contemplating her actions and mistakes, the orange reploid taps a pen against the desk, staring at the blank sheet of paper that has been taunting her for the past several minutes. Just write the damn letter already, woman! The sooner you address this, the sooner you can get it over with.

Resolve crystalizing, she starts writing.

---

A week or two later, a plain envelope arrives for Nathicana, the address written obviously by hand rather than a nice and neat printed label. The letter contained within is similarly hand-written, though not the machine-perfect script one would expect of a reploid, the text instead showing the sort of sloppy casual scripting of any organic who's done a lot of writing, with some bits scribbled out as though the writer had jotted something else down and then changed their mind.

((OOC note: I can't find any way to strikethrough text in the forum, so "---"s indicate scribbled out stuff.))
"--- Dear Nathicana,

You might be wondering why the ---- heck I'm sending you a hand-written letter, especially given that electonic stuff is faster and all that. I'm hoping this comes across as a bit more personal, because there's some things that electronic messaging just can't get across.

I've always had a decent sense of empathy, something that seems to have gotten a lot more touchy since my ---------- accident, and after all the dirty laundry was aired at the ------ ------ --- ill-fated Angelus conference, somebody would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to realized certain parties present were no small amount of cheesed off about how ------- --------- poorly those of us involved handled it. I imagine the biggest issue as stated was trust, and I know first hand how that sort of betrayal ------- ----- --- stings, which is why I'm writing this.

While I would love to be able to just sweep this under the carpet and pretend it didn't happen, doing so would be irresponsible (which I am not, contrary to popular belief). For my part, I ------ -- ------- abused the trust of my allies with dire consequences, and it is therefore my responsibility as both a guilty party and leader of the Shogunate to see to the redress of the problem.

To that end, I would like to invite you to visit the Palace at Arpia so that we can discuss the problem in depth. My conversation with Omicron Blu which lead me to agree to Angelus' ill-fated plan was partly a severe error of judgement on my part, but also due to misinformation (perhaps "creative truth-telling" would fit better) regarding the specifics of Blu's scheme. I will not try to deny my responibility in events, but I would like to speak at greater length about what happened than the surface information touched upon at the Angelan conference. Conversely, I understand if staying anywhere in the Shogunate is not agreeable, and so I am open to an alternate meeting place if you are willing to speak to me after that debacle. Perhaps we can also discuss other recent noteworthy events that also concern us both, even if only periphially.

Please respond as soon as convenient- I know it will not be a minor nor simple task, but I do sincerely wish atone for my errors.

Most sincerely,
Firefury Amahira

Nathicana opens the hand-written letter with arched brows, at first quickly scanning over it, then going back and reading it through slowly. A smile teases the corners of her lips, soon growing into a broad grin.

"Good God almighty ... I think I made an impression," she murmurs to herself, reaching for her ever-present glass of ice water. Bless her for trying so hard, too. She seems to have understood in part our 'concerns' at least, though it is interesting where all of this seems to lead back to. And given the fact that Angelus is now silent again ... coincidence? A convenient answer or excuse? Possibly ... I've always maintained that perception and appearance was what matters, but in this case, I truly do need to know where I stand with our allies. Especially now.

Of Speaker, she had no doubt. His sense of honor, in her eyes, was above reproach. He had assured her of his stand, and she took him at his word. Other factions within his government might have a different opinion, perhaps. It was against them she felt the need to keep her guard up. She also knew exactly where things stood there - with Garbo at least. Their last discussion had laid things out with crystaline clarity.

Queenie was impetuous, reckless even one might say. Such oversights, if oversight this truly was, could be explained away given her style and personality. The timing was not exactly the most convenient, but for this, it would be managed. A slight bit of mischief creeps into her smile as she ponders requesting that the meeting be held on Unity Island. Jokingly ponders of course. The sort of shitstorm such arrangements could kick up simply wasn't worth the temporary satisfaction of seeing the reploid squirm a bit in response - if squirming were quite the right descriptive, which she doubted.

Apologies were well and good, however, there was one assurance she still required, words that she had yet to hear from the Shogunate's leader. One she hoped to hear once she arrived to take Fury up on her invitation, which of course she would. What remained to be seen was whether or not such a statement would be forthcoming, and if so, if she would need to guide Queenie to it or not.

She takes out pen and paper from her personal stationery, and begins her reply. When all is written to her satisfaction, she blows on it gently, to make sure the ink has set, and then folds it with meticulous care into three sections, the top of the page overlapping the body halfway. Taking out a candle and a stick of red wax, she lights the former, then holds the small stick near the flame til a decent bead forms, which she allows to drip down over the letter's edge, then presses the brass stamp bearing the seal of the Dominion down into the shining mass, holding it for a slow count before gently pulling it free.

A larger envelope is removed from a nearby drawer, addressed to 'Her Majesty, Firefury Amahira of the Immortal Shogunate'. The letter is slipped inside, then sealed in the usual fashion as she directs her personal secretary, Else, to arrange a courrier post haste.

The missive is delivered within the day.






M'lady Firefury-

Thank you for taking the time to write and express your concerns and offer your regets,
and your hospitality in such a heartfelt manner. The effort is appreciated.

I believe I can clear my schedule for a brief meeting with you within the next few days,
if such arrangements mesh with your schedule as well. I regret that I cannot stay long,
but assure you that this is only due to being on a rather tight schedule of my own
here, what with the coming events and such details that need attending which simply
cannot be addressed via long distance methods.

Let it not be said that we do not have the time for allies, and dare I say, friends, most
especially in times of need or that we are unwilling to set aside our concerns in order
to achieve clarity where intentions and positions have become somewhat muddled.

I look forward to your confirmation.

Sincerely,

Nathicana D'Aquisto

A confirmation to the effect of "If there's not room in my schedule, I'll bloody well make room!" is sent via more conventional means, and the reploid immediately sets about her own preparations for Dominion leader.

"... What do you mean there's no Dominion wine in the cellar?" She demands of an unfortunate palace lackey.

"Well, you see... Many people here have followed the Scolopendrans' lead in boycotting NDA member nations because of Iraqstan. Dominion wine has just not been selling here like it did in the past, so our suppliers haven't been importing it. We have a number of local vintages though, as well as Aquamarinian sake." The lackey replies with a squeak.

"I'll make a note of that." Firefury responds dryly and with no small amount of irritation. "The Dread Lady will just have to cope then, I guess. Oh well. Maybe our wine biz will make better stuff to fill the void."

The reploid surveys the area of the palace she intended for the discussion. A cozy corner of the palace gardens, now occupied with a simple table and chairs, a portable holo-projector and a couple of glasses resting on the wooden surface.

"Let's see, munchies, check. Security, check. Holo-dohickey, check. Recording out of the Queen's Wing's security data of the chat with Blu, check. Dominion wine, no check, damnitall. Reply sent, check. Chewing out by Tsume not to fuck it up even more..." Firefury rolls her eyes at the recollection. "... Most definately check."

She thinks back with no small amount of distaste to her unexpected conversation with Omicron Blu. "I think I see where yer goin' with this- y'wanna stick a Shogunate target in Angelic Skies' line of sight t'make things look more convincing, right?"

"Exactly. However, I/We would not wish the deaths of any of your people. I/We would gladly supply you with a set of clones that would act as a crew for a ship of your choosing."

"Hmph. Yeah, yer friggin' clones weren't supposed to get off a call for help and involve allied forces, y'spooky collective." The reploid growls to the breeze. "The Shogunate may not have lost anybody, but the TYCS sure as hell did. Sneaky Bastards nearly lost an entire fleet to the bomb that got planted on that ship. Next time I listen to my gut feeling, thanks. My intuition's yet to be wrong."

Nathicana follows the lackey who is leading her into the garden, a pleasant smile on her face, and dressed oddly enough, in a simple black cotton broomstick skirt and matching shirt in a deep red. Her flat laced sandals tap lightly on the walkway, beating out an even, confident pace as she looks around with appreciation at the greenery and build of the place.

It is amazing, I admit, to think that a people so advanced and immersed in the craft of their own hands, not to mention such a tumultuous past, still hold an appreciation for such simple, natural things as this. Another lesson for those who would think to underestimate such peoples, truly. The little things, the subtle things - those can speak volumes on a nation and her citizens. I wonder ... Queenie seems a bit tense. Surely I've not given her that much concern?

She stifles a wry smile at that last thought, knowing full well her temper and willingness to hold grudges is no secret. The meeting had gone badly, though not nearly so badly as her allies might think. It had taken the rest of the trip home, and the weeks after to convince Cesare that hasty words would do none of them any good. They had watched, and waited, and listened. This now was the second such meeting she would have on the subject, the first having done much to ease her mind. All the better for Queenie in the end, no doubt, though there were issues here that Speaker had not had to address as well. There was indeed much to discuss. And as pleasant as she had planned on being for this, she was not about to let the Reploid leader off easily.

She is uncomfortable? Good. Let her sweat it a bit. Pressure often brings out a more true reaction anyway.

"Your Majesty," she says as she approaches, nodding slightly though never losing her casual, pleasant smile. She glances briefly at the holoviewer, arching a brow slightly, then takes a seat, crossing her legs, straightening her skirt, and leaning back comfortably in her chair. "Thank you for the invitation. Your people have been quite hospitable."