NationStates Jolt Archive

The sun sparkled off the unbelievably clean, clear water as the small passenger plane swooped in for a landing. Palm trees lined the tiny airstrip, which consisted of nothing but one runway and one control tower, with an unpaved road leading down to the bay, where the ferry sat waiting to transport passengers to the Isle of Shadow.

Waiting patiently in the lobby of the control tower, unruffled by the tropical heat that sat heavy in the small, windowless room, Anatole Solei heard the sound of the plane's engines and closed the dossier in his lap, sliding it into his leather messenger back and shutting the brass clasp with a click. He stood, and his youngest son, Bastien, stood with him. The boys hands were in his pockets, and he swayed slightly back and forth in anticipation. Anatole slid the strap of the messenger back over his shoulder so it crossed his chest, and put a hand on Bastien's shoulder.

"Be still," he admonished.

Bastien looked sheepish. "Sorry, Papa," he murmured, dipping his head and nervously tucking an escaped strand of glossy black hair behind his slightly pointed ear. "It's just... they're the first ones, you know? This is a huge thing, our first foreign embassy, and it's just the two of us here. I guess that just seems... disproportionate to me, because it means so much."

"Just because you are a virgin, that's no excuse for behaving like one," Anatole admonished, repeating an ancient island saying.

Bastien grinned. "Aye. But suppose they don't like it here? What do we do then?"

"They will like it," he replied, brushing off the seat of his breeches to clear the dust that gathered on the seats of the wooden lobby chairs. "Who wouldn't love our islands? There is beauty here that cannot be found anywhere else." He tilted his sharp, fine features toward the oncoming form of the plane and headed for the door. "Come. Let's not keep our guests waiting."

They stood in front of the lobby door, a matched pair with coffee skin and black hair that reflected the sunlight hanging to their waists. Equally slim, wiry of limb and elfin of features, they were very obviously related, though Bastien was several inches taller than his father. Anatole stood five feet tall exactly, but had a presence far larger than his stature.

Both were clad in short-sleeved, open-necked tunics of dark gray and matching breeches. Both wore the violet-colored bracelets that indicated they worked for Kageshima's Head of State. As the plane’s landing wheels touched down on the runway, scattering dust in all directions, they waited patiently for the passenger ramp to descend so that they could meet the delegation from Molynia who would be making their new homes in the specially-prepared embassy that awaited them on the Isle of Shadow.

As soon as the small jet dipped down under the clouds and started it's descent to the airstrip, everyone's faces were at the windows, taking in the sights of their new home. Especially interested were the children, who had never seen a place like this before. The white sand beaches and bright sunlight were a sharp contrast to the overcast skies and rocky shores that were the hallmarks of their home. Even the ocean was different. Here it was brilliant blue, so unlike the dark navy blue that surrounded Molynia. Few Molynians had travelled to other countries in the past, most were concentrated on making their own nation a desirable place to live, so this was a new experience for all onboard except the pilots.

As the plane touched down, the 20 members of the Molynian diplomatic team plus the people coming with them readied themselves and each other for the first impression. All were dressed in official-looking shirts and pants, lightly colored to suit the local climate. The guards had the same sort of outfit, with the addition of utility belts, vests, and nasty-looking weapons that they were currently stowing. There was no need to branding arms at this first meeting, though they would be ready if necessary.

As the plane came to a stop, the hatch opened and a blast of warm tropical air entered the cabin, giving each person a taste of what was to come. The ramp touched ground, and Nathan Murell stepped outside, looked around, then walked down the down, followed by two of the guards, and the rest of the team. The small airstrip was just large enough to accomodate the jet that had brought them here, so it was rather easy to spot their welcoming committee standing over by the control tower. The short distance took no time at all to cover, and a rehearsed distance away from the two greeters, the entire Molynian team stopped. Nathan stepped out from the group and said "Thank you for inviting us toyour fine nation. I am Nathan Murell, I will be the head ambassador from Molynia to Kageshima." He then offered his hand in what he'd been told was a standard greeting, much like shaking hands.

-----

It was early evening in Molynia, though nobody could tell without a watch. There was a heavy downpour, and though thunder had not been signted yet, it was expected soon. The pilots onboard the diplomatic flight had made the last portion of the trip in a mad dash, trying to beat the weather before it closed in on them. They just barely made it, and Endurance Air Control welcomed the flight and cleared a path for them to quickly land. The plane landed without incident, and soon reached the parking lot it had been assigned to. The jetway extended, forming a seal between the terminal and the plane itself, letting no rain in.

Waiting for this flight to come in, Chelsea Murell was standing at the exit of the terminal, accompanied by several other diplomats and the guards that were to be assigned to these ambassadors. She was dressed in an official outfit of a black skirt, heels, a white blouse, and a navy blue jacket bearing the crest of the Molynian government, with the text "Foreign Relations" under it. The people around her were dressed similarly, excet for the guards who had opted for their standard kit. Past them were the press, held back at a safe distance by airport security, who were each clamoring for their cameramen and photographers to get into the best position. This was a historic event in Molynian history, and they all wanted to be the best recorders of it.

“The honor is mine,” Anatole returned solemnly, meeting the man and grasping his wrist briefly. “Anatole Solei, Chief of Diplomatic Relations. This is my son, Bastien Solei, currently serving as Director of Foreign Trade Agreements. Under normal circumstances, it would have been Severin who met you with me here, but he’s currently attending a Diplomatic Conference in Czardas, which I believe your nation has sent officials to as well?”

Bastien also stepped forward with a ready grin, white teeth flashing as he clasped Nathan’s wrist. “Pleased to meet you,” he said sincerely. “Welcome to Kageshima.” He stepped back to allow Anatole to converse with Nathan, but was unable to resist waving merrily at the gawking children as they climbed off the plane.

“We’ve arranged for porters to collect your luggage,” Anatole explained, gesturing with one fine-boned hand toward the road that led down to the sea. The ferry was visible as a small, graceful ship, a single-masted schooner, black triangular sails snapping in the breeze. “They should arrive shortly, as they were instructed to watch for your plane. In the meantime, please accompany me to the ferry. We have dinner waiting for you at your newly appointed embassy, as I’m sure you must be quite hungry.” Indeed, the trip was close to fourteen hours long, including layovers, and as everyone knew, airline food wasn’t anything to write home about. “We’ll see you safely settled into your new quarters. I’m certain you’ll be pleased.”

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The Dylani who departed the plane were certainly a sight for sore eyes. Leading the group were three women, all built in the way of all Dylani women – tiny waists and full curves, cherubic features, and bright smiles. They were dressed in what equated to formal attire for their people – leather halter-tops lined in brightly colored fabric that showed quite a lot of cleavage, and canvas pants and jackets in brown, black, and gray. They were toned, muscular, and fairly bursting with energy, laughing and chattering with each other as they emerged into the gate in their musical, chattering tongue. They stopped as they were approached by the blue-jacketed members of the Foreign Affairs office, and the leading woman, with glossy black ringlets tumbling around her shoulders, offered a slightly mischievous smile and a fine-boned hand to Chelsea Murell.

“Fair Winds to you,” she said warmly. “I’m Brielle SummerStorm, Shimajinn Attaché to Molynia. This is my Assistant Attaché, Maralie Hz’Narrin,” she indicated, motioning to a slightly taller woman with platinum blonde hair standing out startlingly against her coffee-colored skin, cinnamon-brown eyes, and a heart-shaped face. “And our Captain of the Guard, Angeline Solarousse.” Angeline had dark green eyes and noble, somewhat hawkish features, and smiled only wryly as she dipped her head in respect. Her straight, back hair was bound tightly back in a French braid.

Nathan looked to the ferry at the end of the road and smiled. He was already enjoying this place, and was eager to see what accomodations they'd been offered, as well as the local food. No doubt some of the children would be surprised and possibly disgusted by the upcoming meal, but they would get used to it soon enough. The airline food certainly wasn't the best meal they had ever eaten, and who knew? Maybe the local food would be extra appealing contrasted to the food on the plane.

"Dinner sounds excellent right now. The in-flight meal was nearly six hours ago and air travel tires you out like nothing else. Will you be joining us tonight?"


-----

The reporters went wild as the Dylani came into view, for a number of reasons. This was very different from any news story they had ever covered before, and the airport security were working hard to ensure that the press stayed behind the barricades.

After the foreign diplomats introduced themselves, Chelsea smiled warmly and said "Welcome to Molynia. I am Chelsea Murell, Minister of Foreign Relations. If you'll come this way please, we have transportation waiting to take you to your embassy. If you have any questions or requests, feel free to ask and I'm sure we can find some way to accomodate you."

Anatole and Bastien guided them down the dirt path toward the gently bobbing ship. The breeze was fresh and salty, easing the heat of the blazing sun. “We will,” Anatole confirmed, even as a few laughing Dylani passed them going the opposite direction, presumably to collect the diplomatic team’s luggage. “We will be with you tonight to show you around the embassy and see you comfortably settled in, and make certain you have all the appropriate resources.”

“And clear up any mysteries regarding our food,” Bastien chimed in with a grin. The schooner bobbed next to a pier, loading ramp lowered, and Anatole ascended first, while Bastien waited behind to make sure no one was forgotten. “Watch your step,” he cautioned cheerfully as the boarding planks shuddered, but remained secure, under their feet.

The ship’s black canvas sails snapped in the breeze, and the crew wore very little – loincloths for the men, loincloths and halter-tops for the women, constructed of leather with accents of colorful cloth and stitching. They went barefoot on the worn deck, small of bone and graceful of motion, scampering in the rigging as if they had been born to it. Anatole showed them to the forecastle deck, where the captain, a taller man with a jaunty smile and startling platinum hair, rested one arm on the large wheel.

“Please make yourselves comfortable,” Anatole instructed them, indicating some benches built along the rails. “The trip will be short before we disembark in Kyoika Bay, and from there, it is only a short walk to your Embassy. There are a few things I would like to discuss with all of you before we arrive, and I feel this short voyage will be the perfect time.”

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“It’s a pleasure, Miss Murell,” Brielle said warmly, clasping the woman’s wrist briefly before releasing it. “Please excuse our attire, it was quite a long trip and we wanted to be comfortable.” She cast a glance over Chelsea’s shoulder at the snapping flashbulbs and shouting reporters. “Would your press like a statement, or would it be better to forego that until later? We quite enjoyed the trip and we’re in no particular hurry if you aren’t,” she said easily.

Behind her, the rest of the Dylani disembarked, a few more officials and their families, towing children by the hand. The children were both shy and inquisitive, staying close to their parents, huge eyes taking in everything with awe.