NationStates Jolt Archive

ooc: A thread to fill the need for updating, to put little things on record, to get my own thoughts straight, remind myself of direction, and have a convenient place to post day to day things that need noting now and then. Content may very well wander, and may not be pertinent to anyone but myself now and then. Posting here by invite only.





Scritch…scritch…scritchyscritch…

A light breeze brought the faint scent of the sea in to mingle with that of the boxwood and roses that made up the small gardens surrounding her. The view from this ancient gazebo with its sun-bleached outer wall, weathered yet still dark pillars, and traditional red terra cotta roof was simply breathtaking. The sheer drop from the outer wall spilled down the wooded hillside into a lush valley, with impossibly tall mountains, their heads wreathed here and there in clouds, rising up all around it, save for the valley’s mouth, where the river flowing along its course emptied into the ocean.

There was a small reflecting pool, that showed both the interior and hints of the outside world, and the impossible view of a starry night, regardless of the time of day, through the circular hole in the ceiling. The simple red leather chaise lounge that she was comfortably curled up on sat near the pool, along with a small table holding frozen grapes, assorted cannoli, and an ever-full pitcher of ice water with glass.

And off to one side, an antique writing desk, with ink and quill, busily scratching away on it’s own at the parchment laid out for recording and taking notes. A construct, just as everything here was, set to her specifications from the solid structure, to the ambient noise of nature in the background.

It was one of several favorite virtual ‘get-away’ spots for Nathicana that she had programmed, where she could go to take a break from the usual hustle and bustle, get work done, and wind down a little bit while doing so.

There were so very many things to try and keep track of anymore, even with what she felt was a fairly dependable Ministry, home staff, Military organization, and various contacts, contracts, and ‘family ties’. All part and parcel of being the leader of a nation, this. And she had indeed asked for it, no doubts about that. And it wasn’t that she found it tedious or a burden so much as overwhelming sometimes.

Not that she would ever admit to that. Ever.

Hence the occasional virtual trips here, where thinking, organizing, and other such matters could be handled more efficiently, with multiple processes running in the background while she dealt with one thing at a time as information was completed and made available by them.

Recovery from previous wartime efforts went apace, as expected. While at the time it had hit the nation hard, resources both internally, and via alliances, trade partners, and independent business transactions had made the eventual improvements a foregone conclusion. The challenge had been being patient, and keeping the populace reassured through it all. Yes, there was still the occasional grumbling, but so long as it did not get out of hand, it offered a needed outlet, and was quietly tolerated.

Three additional fleets had been added to the Dominion Aerospace lineup, along with the refits and replacements needed from the conflict, spread out over a handful of years. Talk had recently been focused on the possibility of new models and expansion, the purchase of ten Grendels from Menelmacar having re-sparked interest in bigger, shinier flying ships of ‘killdeath’.

The technology curve continued its upward swing, there being no way to keep many elements out now that travel and trade between advanced nations was such an every-day occurrence. While many still remained the domain of the rich, adventurous, or favored, more and more things like civ-grade enhancements, tools, and toys found their way through the populace, making it an increasing challenge to maintain the proper security.

Both alliances were still an honor to be a part of, though it seemed change in the NDA was imminent. Ideas and thoughts had been discussed, and she agreed that any one of the nations represented there was more than capable of assuming responsibilities, and upholding the spirit of the alliance. She was grateful to have so many excellent allies, on both sides, and was pleased to see the trend of careful choice net continue to net positive results.

Of course there were always little concerns here and there, such as the continued troubles in Iraqstan, the distance of the Kaeneians, especially it seemed, after the mysterious disappearance of the Scoperta, which had lost the Dominion one of their own, and the apparent closeness of the Menelmacari leadership with the Ctan, who still made her a touch wary. Sometimes it seemed hard to see where one government’s policy ended, and the other began. There was also the continued concern with one Lance Hawke of Scolopendra that she took rather … personally. As yet, no opportunity had yet offered itself, though what eyes and ears that could be spared with what access they could gain, remained open and alert. Just in case. She only hoped that whatever might be managed at some point wouldn’t end up putting her afoul of that damnably sharp Garbo. There were no illusions there, on either side, she was certain. Problems with him would be … inconvenient to say the very least.

Mars was well, Mars. Fortunately the removal of certain undesirables had resulted in a marked improvement in the political landscape. It was far from ideal, but any improvement was a step in the right direction. She was pleased at the results from Patroni – they had chosen their representative well there it seemed. Much to Calabrese’s dismay, of course, having failed to net the results he’d hoped for during his own stint there. She’d tried to smooth things over a bit by insisting that he had laid the groundwork there at least, paving the way for later exploits, though none at the time had been planned. The time just hadn’t been right, and that was not his fault. Nor of course was the fact that she had gone completely around his back in making arrangements that resulted in Dominion withdrawal and sale of the territory, but she chose not to go there, and he tactfully avoided the topic as well. It was still a sticking point, and both parties had a very clear understanding of how things now stood on account, which was good enough.

In any case, the MPA was a welcome change to the usual chaos and snarking, in Dominion eyes, and had thus far been run in what was the best way they could think of for this particular situation. There was absolutely no way the factions there could operate in an atmosphere where one lorded anything over another. Eventually, factions would likely develop, but hopefully the framework of the organization would be enough to evolve, and deal with any problems as they came about. Time would tell.

Sslaa continued to be a concern, even with the gradual growth and advancements there. Troubling reports about cargo lists, feared black marketeering, and the unspoken threat of the mysterious Antarans had continually trickled in, enough for her to set Pellegrino and the DCI on the trail, which she was authorizing now. She hoped that it would not upset things up there any further to introduce Central Intel as subtly as she was planning. There were just too many questions, and not near enough answers at present, especially given some of the projects associated with Nuova Toscana, not the least of which were the shipyards.

Arae Novellis, from all that had been reported, was flourishing, albeit quietly. They had been very careful about the settlers they’d sent there, considering its remote and isolated location. All things considered, they were adapting to the alien environment well enough, and there had been thus far few irritants and problems that could not be handled quickly, quietly, and most important, locally. Expansion continued in anticipation of growth, and with the intent of being one of the safe havens for the Dominion should the unthinkable happen.

Thankfully, those were but three of such locations they had at their disposal, though they were on the lookout for more, not discounting the possibility of emergency requests to the TYCS for space with some of their established colonies in far-flung reaches.

Kronos I on the Ring was turning into quite the thriving off-world settlement, especially since the approval of the mining operations around Saturn. Job opportunities and more businesses had sprung up, with more choosing to make the move to take advantage of the new markets and experiences available there – including the proximity to other allied peoples there, and on Titan. The families of many serving in the TYCS forces had relocated to one of those two locations, the better to be closer to the hub of operations, though there was sufficient spread depending on what theatres service was in, within reason.

On Titan, the territory granted the Dominion by Berserker remained small by design, there being no desire to overrun it all given the view, the ambience, and the significance of the place. Most had adapted to the design left there, wanting to preserve the spirit of things while adding little bits of their own to personalize, and make it ‘home’.

Machiavelli had so far, been a very successful experiment, netting more profit than they had anticipating, and indeed, drawing more attention than might have been thought. It too had been peaceable for the most part, with perceived threats having luckily been dealt with quietly from outside the perimeter with a simple beefing up of aerospace presence. On the station, things seemed to operate in much the same way as the Dominion itself. Nothing too unexpected in the way of problems and crime, and reports of the usual infiltration of organized crime that seemed to follow nearly everywhere lucrative opportunities presented themselves. Thus far, all seemed to be operating as per agreements, but care would need to be taken that it remained that way. As the old Arabic saying went, ‘Always trust in Allah – but tie up your camel.’ Which was yet another reason for the new project of the FTLi field that would eventually surround sufficient space around the holdings there.

Bernardo’s project with the Trade Network Association had been a surprise, opening up markets in places she would have never imagined. And he seemed to be handling the operation of it quite well, even if he chafed when trade and politics collided, as had been the case with Xirnium – a situation she hoped would be resolved as well to mutual benefit. She was not comfortable with all the choices di Medici had made, but thus far there had been no negative repercussions on account, so again, it was a matter of watching, waiting, and preparing against any such unfortunate circumstances.

Io remained status quo so far as reports went. Once the treaty had been signed, it seemed the random interferences there had ceased, thus making it much less a headache overall. Of course, outside the compound it was an unforgivably harsh corner of hell, but relations with the neighbors continued to be amicable enough, the ‘rawring cretins’ of Burning Mountain continued to accept the NDA presence there, the elves continued to run their ‘tourism’ business, and the Ardan territory remained untouched due to concerns of ‘temporal flux’ and other such things that made her head hurt to contemplate. She herself considered it a politeness due to previous ties with those she still missed from there, that one day she had hoped would change things. Unfortunately, they’d never seen what happened in the end. Somewhere, wherever they were, she quietly wished them well, tucked the emotional baggage that went with all of it back in the darker corners of her subconscious, and moved on to other less troubling lines of thought.

On the home front, the new aristocracy continued to be a thorn in her side, what with the squabbles, the constant demands, the aspirations, and inflated egos. Certainly not from all, but having been given a new socio-political ladder to climb, there had been more than a few brutal fights to win a way to the top. It had been expected, but that didn’t make it any less problematic now and then. Every week it was something or other that their Council had come up with that they felt ought to be addressed or changed. If not for the necessary evil of it, she’d have never reintroduced the thrice-damned structure.

Which of course led to thoughts on the reason for said necessary evil, and why she had reluctantly taken on the title of Imperatrice. The children.

Both Marcus (http://************/ye52q4) and Naiya (http://************/yk7mjf) seemed to be doing well, having adjusted to what some might call an odd mix of family and close friends with the enthusiasm and acceptance only children seemed capable of. Granted, they had a very privileged life – for which she was utterly unapologetic for – yet she did what she could to of all things, instill some understanding of ‘how things worked’ in them, not to mention bits like ‘manners’, and how those in high or low positions could afford politeness.

Though the opposite might be expected, she did not give them everything they wanted, and insisted on them earning certain privileges, or doing what small things they could to earn extra treats or toys. Spoiled was not what she hoped for either of them, in spite of the efforts of Devon in regards to Marcus, which is where the conflict came into play.

Where his son was concerned, nothing was too much, in spite of her protestations over it. And still, when he could manage getting away with it, Naiya was a non-issue. Nathicana worked hard to make the times when Devon went out with Marcus as painless as possible for her daughter, but the girl was intelligent beyond her years, and the questions she often asked at unexpected times showed that she understood all too well there was a divide there, and one she was helpless to bridge the gap for. It was heartbreaking to watch on those all-too rare times when they were all together, and some of the fights that had broken out between her and Devon, most not in front of the children thankfully, had become legendary among the household staff.

Of course the guilt of having put her daughter in this position to begin with laid with none other than herself, she felt, knowing no better. And the one person who might have assisted, had promised to in fact, had died on a barren mountainside in the depths of Hell itself. All she had left was a sword that she kept locked away, waiting for the proper time, years down the road, when she’d give it to Naiya. Not that any such memorabilia, however shiny, was any substitute for a father. And that was the one thing she couldn’t give her, and Devon wouldn’t.

Another point of concern was the possibility of any latent abilities that might have been passed on. Aside from her ‘wise beyond years’ tendencies, and more thoughtful nature, nothing had manifested. Not even a hint of anything out of the ordinary. Naiya was most likely old enough now for some careful examinations by those who would more understand such things, and know what to look for. Without someone who inherently might know what she was capable of, and be able to guide her, Nathi was left with the question of who to trust with the task with the necessary care, tact, and subtlety who wouldn’t attempt to subvert any possible talents for their own means, or help direct her daughter down paths she wouldn’t approve of.

Formal schooling was coming up for them both, regardless of the fact that she had had tutors to help try and keep them ahead of the curve. Socialization was important, as was their safety, hence the current plan for Devras’ premiere private school system, something she’d never had the advantage of herself. It might not be the ideal, and there would be challenges there just as there would at the more public level, some no less difficult to deal with, but it couldn’t be helped. Not if they were going to learn how to stand on their own feet, and deal with people who weren’t always friends and family and staff.

Of course there was Devon himself. Between the stresses of a continued long-distance relationship, the familial problems, and the fact that neither of them thus far had any intent of giving up, no matter how many times they ended up knocking each other down, the relationship continued to lean more towards emotional rollercoaster than blissful domesticity. It wasn’t as though either one of them had ever harbored any illusions about ever having what might be thought of as a ‘normal’ relationship. For all intents and purposes they considered themselves married, whatever the paperwork said. They’d said their vows to one another, and meant them, and despite previous plans, and pressure from others to at the very least clarify, for now, things remained as they were with talk of weddings and the like further from their mind than other more pressing issues.

Soft chimes reminded her that the time here was up. Finishing up the last of her notes, sending some things to print, others to file, yet others to e-coms, she took one last look out at the sculpted environment, took a deep breath, and prepped to log out. It would be dinner time soon, and she needed time with the little ones, who quite possibly had been preparing an ambush in her absence. Bless Shorty and her ‘helpful instructions’, and Tim for all the inspirational Heroic story material.

Just another day, she mused as the landscape view was replaced with the familiar surroundings of her home office interior, smiling as she picked up the pitter-patter of small scampering feet outside the door.

Even amongst the ranks of the privileged, there were conflicts, regardless of age or social status. In fact, it was often the social status that was the source of said conflicts. Most children have an ingrained loyalty to their parents, and of course, in their eyes, no one could be ‘better’ than them at any given thing. And when reality and perceptions collide, well …

“I don’t care who your parents are, you’re not the boss of me.” A balled fist, a punch thrown, and the subsequent fallout of a solid blow to the nose is the result.

“I never said I was, Leo!” Not being one to back down to a challenge, and having grown up with more than enough inspiration, young Marcus fights back.

Insults are hurled, blows are traded, and somewhere in the midst of it all, they are predictably interrupted.

“Marcus! Leo! Stop it!”

Naiya of course has to physically step in due to neither one feeling particularly inclined to giving up, or looking the weaker. Leo not wanting to hit a girl, and Marcus being unwilling to hurt his sister is what brings the fight grudgingly to a close.

“What is the matter with you two? The direttore will have a fit if you’re caught fighting here at the school! And what will your papa say, Leo? And mama, Marcus?”

The two boys look down at the ground, still scowling, with Marcus sniffling a bit and dabbing at his nose with his sleeve. “He started it,” he mutters, shifting his look to Leo, then away again.

“Did not. It was you telling me how what my father does is wrong. I’m not going to take that from anyone, least of all you, Marcus. Your papa is no saint, and you know it,” Leonardo Genovese snaps angrily, gingerly fingering his swollen lip.

Naiya sighs quietly and shakes her head at Marcus, a quick gesture in the hand language they’d been taught telling him firmly, ‘not now’, as the boy’s fists clench again and his eyes narrow.

“Marcus, Leo, listen for a moment,” she begins, frowning at Marcus as he scowls and starts to respond in spite of the warning, then gradually backs down. “You’ve got to remember who we all are. And I don’t mean just who our parents are. We’re going to be the ones making the decisions later on. And we’re likely to be the ones who will have to work together if that happens. Do you understand?”

Leo mutters a halfhearted response, glaring at Marcus again.

“Ask your father about it when you get home,” Naiya encourages him. “He’ll explain it to you, if he hasn’t already. We don’t have to agree. We don’t even have to always like each other. But it’s important we remember that someday, that all won’t matter and we’ll have to do what we need to anyway. So things like this, now, don’t help. And it really won’t help if our parents find out we’ve been fighting, capisce?”

Shrugs, and nods, and muttered acceptances – at least for now – soon follow, albeit reluctantly and with more than a few looks between the boys that convey ample suggestions of ‘you so didn’t win this one’.

“Leo, go get yourself cleaned up before one of the teachers sees you. Marcus – you and I need to talk, and get you cleaned up as well,” she says gently, though something in the tone of her voice seems to brook no argument. Leonardo pauses for a moment, nods, then makes his way back around the corner of the building they’re currently behind, looking about carefully for any signs of authority figures.

“Marcus, what were you thinking?” Naiya asks, taking out a tissue and handing it to her brother, once again assuming the role of older sister, in spite of the fact he was born first, and that by mere moments.

“You know what his father does, Naiya. You know the kinds of things that get talked about, and you know he’s behind them. It isn’t right,” he replies stubbornly, trying to staunch his bloody nose.

“It’s not your place right now to judge that, Marcus. Its Family business, and you are not Family. You know how this all works – it’s been explained to both of us.”

“I don’t have to like it,” he continues with the same stubborn tone.

“No, you don’t. But it’s just how it is.”

“Well, some day when I’m in charge of things, I’m going to change how it is.”

“And I hope you’ll be able to,” Naiya replies with a tired sort of smile.

“Why, don’t you think I can do it?

”It’s not that, Marcus. It’s fine that you don’t like how things are. And it’s good that you want to change things for the better. But mother is right about some of those things. Sometimes we have to do what’s necessary, not always what we like. You can’t always fix everything, however much you might want to.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says sullenly. “Just promise me, no matter what, Naiya, that we’ll always be close. Whether we can change things or not.”

“Of course, Marcus. No matter what. You’re my brother.” No matter what Devon says, she adds firmly in her mind.

“Now let’s go get you a clean shirt. I know where they keep extras, and it isn’t hard to get in.”

“Naiya, that’s …”

“Dishonest, and stealing, I know. Would you rather mama find out what you’ve been doing today?” she replies with an arch look.

“Point,” he concedes. “Let’s get going. And Naiya … grazie.”

She smiles, and offers him a hug in reply before leading him carefully off towards their intended target. No one at the school was better than sneaking, after all. Not after the instruction they’d had. Success was practically guaranteed – and before long, both were enjoying the little challenge.

No expense had been spared in making the old man comfortable in his own home. With the ties, and the money he and his Family had, it was only a matter of making the arrangements to get the proper equipment, and medical aides there to be on hand at any given moment.

Lucano knew his father was dying. There was no way to deny that now, after months of lingering without improvement, and further deterioration of his overall health. The cancer was simply eating away at him, and everything that could be done in the Dominion to stop it, had been done.

The old man had not told his son at the time the main reason behind his retirement, saying it was simply time for Lucano to step into his father’s shoes, and that he wanted to spend his later years enjoying that which he’d worked all his life to establish. Before long however, the truth became unavoidable, and he couldn’t hide it any longer. Efforts had begun in earnest, but it was too little, too late – if indeed anything could have been done to begin with.

He sat, quietly watching his father sleep, the soft light of early morning filtering through the sheer curtains that moved now and then with the breeze coming off the bay. It was frightening, seeing the once strong man laying there so still, looking weak and so very pale.

It wasn’t fair, he couldn’t help but think. He hadn’t had nearly enough time with his father. There were so many rumors of things that could be done perhaps – things that boggled the mind, seemingly bordering on pure fantasy. But Lazaro had forbidden any such pursuits, calling it ‘unnatural’ and perhaps even a mortal sin. He would never be forgiven if he interfered now, even if there were those left who could by some miracle turn things around.

Leading La Famiglias was not the problem – he’d been doing that, albeit with the solid advice often from his father, for some time now. It was simply that he loved the old man dearly and was not ready to let him go. And his own son, Leonardo, he knew felt the same. He idolized his grandfather, and this prolonged illness had affected him profoundly. His grades had suffered, and there had been difficulties at school with some behavior problems.

Lucano sighed softly, rubbing his forehead as if that could clear his thoughts. All the arrangements were in place, as hard as that was to accept. His father had always thought ahead, and been organized to a fault. He supposed he should be grateful for that, but it didn’t make the interminable waiting any easier.

“Lucano, my son,” came a hoarse whispered voice from the bed. He leapt up and nearly sprang to his father’s side, hands immediately seeking those of the frail old man’s to grasp them comfortingly.

“Yes, mia padre, I’m here,” he replies, trying to smile reassuringly.

“You haven’t been sleeping as you should, my boy. As comfortable as that chair may be, it is a poor substitute for your own bed.”

Lucano smiles a bit more at that, his eyes glistening with the beginnings of tears. “Can’t a son wish to be near in case his father has need?”

The old man chuckles weakly and smiles, giving his son’s hands a loving squeeze as best his withered hands can manage. “Ah, my son. You have seen to my every need. I’ve an entire staff of people to watch over me – moreso than one can stand now and then what with their constant pokings and proddings and pesterings.” This all said with that hint of mischievousness Lucano had come to know and love.

“I feel lighter this morning,” Lazaro continues quietly. “You know, I dreamed of your dear mother last night. She looked so beautiful in that green dress she loved so well. I think she was angry at me having made her wait so long. She didn’t say anything, but I knew, even as she smiled at me, she was letting me know.”

Lucano smiles through the tears that were now freely flowing, gently squeezing his father’s hands in return. “I’m sure she has missed you, father. Just as I will miss you, and all your family still here. Ti voglio bene, mia padre. I don’t know what I’ll do without you. And I want to thank you for all you’ve done. I could not have asked for a better father.”

“What’s this?” Lucano says, his own eyes full of tears. “No need for sadness, Lucano. I’ve had a full life. And I could not be more proud of you, and the man you’ve become. All will be well, my son. And promise me you’ll take good care of young Leonardo. He has his mother’s eyes, but his father’s heart. I expect he’ll follow in your footsteps, and do you proud – just as you have done me proud.”

The young man tries to reply, but his voice doesn’t seem to be able to make it past his throat as he kneels down at the side of the bed, tears streaming silently down his face as he smiles as best he can at his father, hoping to convey all those things he cannot say through his expression and touch.

Lazaro coughts slightly, one hand patting his son’s hands, then squeezing them again as firmly as he can. “No more tears now, my son. If you wouldn’t mind asking the nurse to bring in some fresh mango juice? And then I think I’ll take a little nap. I know they are meant to help, but these damned medications make me so very tired. That’s a good boy,” he says as Lucano nods and gets to his feet, wiping his tears away.

“I’ll have it right in, father.”

The old man smiles, gently waving his hand dismissively. “And get some sleep yourself, Lucano. You’ve earned it.”

He settles back into the comfortable bed, closing his eyes as his son leaves and closes the door quietly behind him, an expression of contentment on his thin, pale face.

Lazaro doesn’t wake up again.

It was a conversation they had been through many times before, each understanding the other well enough to pretty much know where it would go, and the various ‘whys’ that would emerge, and the fact that there would invariably be an argument. Which is why this time, when the subject came up, they approached it somewhat differently.

“Legitimacy for our children, present and future, in the eyes of our nations and any others, pure and simple. Additionally, a nice excuse to get some friends together, swap stories, and mingle celebrating something good and about as close to wholesome as the two of us are likely to get,” she murmurs, stretching out slowly, then nestling back in close, one fingertip lightly tracing an idle pattern over his bare chest.

A shiver and soft moan precede his next words, though they are somewhat muffled as he nuzzles his way up along her neck, reflexively pulling her close. “Just as we’d discussed before, one for each, with the appropriate invitations carefully laid to avoid any undue feather-ruffling.”

“Mmmhmm,” she replies, further response delayed as she returns some of the favors amidst the playful wandering of hands. “No arguing over choices, each set our end up our way …”

“You know how I feel about –“ he starts, but she silences with a somewhat forceful kiss, shifting so she can look down at him with that typically stubborn expression.

“One. Day. Just one day. If you can’t give me this after all we’ve been through, so help me I’ll—“

“Dammit woman, you really know how to ruin the mood,” he grumbles, looking back up at her with his own stubborn scowl. “I’m not a monster, and you don’t have to try and bully me like that.”

“I know,” she admits, mischievously going back to her teasing exploration with an arch little look. “But sometimes I like trying to bully you around – for old time’s sake.”

“Incorrigible.”

”Look who’s talking.”

“Time?”

A quick glance at the clock, then a grin. “If we hit the shower now …”

Both understand the implications, and the suggestion needn’t be made twice.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The funeral was attended by the whole family later that day, along with many influential persons from Devras, and further out into the country. It was a time even rivalries and the usual boundaries that separated legitimate business with the more shady aspects of La Famiglia were down and temporarily forgotten.

The service was a somber one, though the eulogies were many and varied, and without fail glowing in report – one simply did not disrespect the dead, and most certainly, not the former head of the Devras Mob, in front of his grieving son, now the current kingpin.

All the same, as a personal nod to Lucano and the respect she’d had for Lazaro during his life, Nathicana had provided her own added protection to the Piaza San Bernadino and the bascilica itself, insofar as the clergy would allow. The fact that this kept her and her family comfortably safe as well went without saying, of course. All was handled tactfully and tastefully as the services themselves, and when the time came to offer respects, her group was the first.

The first thing Marcus noticed was that Leonardo had been crying. He was hiding it fairly well, but the telltale puffiness and reddish cast to his eyes told all. For once, he didn’t feel like mocking the other boy, or fighting. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of, after all – just something he’d never seen before in the angry young man. For his part, he tried not to meet the other’s gaze as he stood next to his father, his chin tilted up almost challengingly. But eventually eyes met, and Leonardo’s expression left no doubt that the challenge to say anything that might be misconstrued was there, and burning just below the surface.

Marcus suddenly felt ashamed, and lowered his head, and eyes along with it, his own expression uncomfortable and apologetic at the same time. To his left, Naiya reached out to gently squeeze his hand.

She nodded to Leonardo, her eyes unblinking as he shifted his gaze to her. Unsure how or even what she did, she reached out without moving, and tried to let him know she was sorry for his loss, and that it had brought him so much pain. And somehow, after a brief look of surprise, he nodded in understanding before looking away and quietly clearing his throat.

All this happened in silence as the two adults offered their condolences to Lucano and his family, the words spoken offering volumes of unspoken meanings and reassurances, as was the habit of doing business while not seeming to do business – and above all, maintaining the proper decorum throughout.

In spite of feeling badly for Leonardo, Naiya wanted to leave, and the sooner the better. The place was heavy with emotions, many of them too close to the surface to easily ignore, and no few of them in direct conflict with the emotions being outwardly shown. It made her feel a sort of itch between her shoulder blades, and jumpy in her stomach.

Marcus eventually gave her hand a squeeze in return, seeming to sense her unease. Looks were exchanged, understandings were reached, and he continued to hold her hand and offer her his quiet support until they were able to finally make their farewells to all those they were required by protocol to meet and greet, and made their way to the waiting motorboat

The benefit of being the rulers of empires is having a plethora of people ready, willing, and able to take care of all the little details that made any event a success – and get them done exactly as they wanted them done. Having two such empires at their disposal, Treznor and Nathicana made the most of their resources while not putting ridiculous deadlines on the table to pull off not one, but two weddings on the same day.

One wedding for each nation, given the status and responsibilities of the two people involved, seemed the correct way to go about things, not to mention, to assure that all the legalities, concerns, and niceties were properly observed. As one of the main concerns were to assure the legitimacy of their children and their inheritance, those details were gone over with a fine-toothed comb, closing any and all possible loopholes, and trying to provide, as they had with previous arrangements, to provide for as many potential futures as they could.

The couple in question had considered themselves married for some time, though none had really been present to witness their own hastily yet earnestly spoken vows. It had been a private moment, and they had kept it that way over the years that followed. It could perhaps explain, in addition to the disagreements of all the ‘hows’, why a wedding, let alone two, had not been as immediate a concern as some might have thought.

After all was said and done, the one thing that remained the same for both weddings was the wedding party, with those who had been invited to participate given the furthest advance notice to assure they would be able to attend, and all the appropriate measures taken in those cases where special dispensations were required. Grudgingly, Treznor had acquiesced in the matter of Naiya’s participation, much to the children’s – and Nathicana’s – relief.

The invitations sent out were of several sorts. Personal ones, sent out by the couple, and handwritten, went out to close friends and allies, and of course any adopted family. These, along with important political and social contacts that provided no conflicts with one another were invited to attend one, or both weddings and receptions as best suited their schedules or inclinations.

The second group of course, were sent invitations of the usual sort that most couple used, printed yet done with appropriate opulence to their stations. Any who required lodgings, transportation, or any conveniences of the sort were accommodated to the best of the couple’s ability.

Other invitations of those who really ought to be invited, but weren’t particularly close, or had specific ties to one government or other, or had ‘serious conflicts’ with others who would be attending the other event, were invited to whichever particular event best suited them, again with the nicely-printed invitations, to the reception only.

Of the two, the Devonton wedding, scheduled for the morning, was the larger so far as attendance to the actual ceremony. Nathicana had stated a preference for a more private setting, and this arrangement provided nicely for both the ‘must attend or feel slighted’ and ‘do not deny the bride her way on her day’ realities.

And so, the planning proceeded apace, and as the responses came in, Nathicana became more pleased, and less worried about how it was all going to pan out.

Not that it kept her from fussing, fretting, and harassing Devon over the details, of course.





ooc: Apologies to those who might want to directly participate, but Trez and I worked all this out ages ago, and I’m just barely catching up after having waited in vain hope he might come back to play a while, and to get set in my head how I was going to move forward in spite of it all. I couldn’t do him justice trying to rp his character/s with other folks, in spite of having permission to use Devon and such, so I’m not even going to try. This will largely be a narrative section, with a bit of assistance here and there. If you really want mention of someone specifically being there or doing something special, please drop me a line and I’ll do what I can to work it all in.

Nathi’s dress was relatively simple by comparison to some Imperial and Royal designs that she’d seen, and the ivory color set off her olive complexion beautifully. Simple lines, creamy silk, and a reasonable train suited her perfectly, and she was very pleased with how it had all turned out.

Naiya had a miniature appropriate child version of her own, shorter, without a train or long gloves, her own dark hair done up similarly, but with a halo of little ivory flowers woven through, along with a basket of fragrant red rose petals to judiciously scatter when the time came.

Both Devon and Marcus were dressed similarly as well, in distinguished tuxedos sporting the colors of Treznor, black and silver, in their accents. A deep red rose boutonniere was a nod to the other colors involved in this particular merger, reflecting Nathicana’s nation, the Dominion, as was the red velvet ring pillow their son proudly carried.

The ceremony in Treznor was simple and tasteful, taking place in the morning, with the mid-day reception being more stately - just as the one in Devras was simple (somewhat against local traditions) as per the bride's preference, yet had more of a relaxed party atmosphere in the evening reception.

Standing for Nathi was her sister-in-mind S.H.O.D.A.N. undisputed leader of Zero-One, and for Devon, the reluctant hero Timofeyev Bondayehr of Scolopendra. Cardinal Battista of the Dominion presided over the local ceremony, and though it was not held as some might expect in the Basilica, he seemed pleased enough all the same with the beautiful outdoors setting of Nathicana’s villa.

Food was ample at both occasions, following the traditions and tastes of both nations, each catering more to the preferences of the native newlywed. And all effort was made at visiting personally with all of the celebrants, with small tokens of appreciation given by the bride and groom to those who had taken the time and effort to attend.

Though it had taken them years to get around to it, it was all said and done. Where things would go from there was anyone’s guess considering their tumultuous history, but for now Nathicana at least was content.




ooc: Yes, I cheated, but there you have it - its a wrap. And while not what I had expected, its just going to have to be good enough. Any who would have attended are free to use it as a ref, or have had happen whatever they need to have happened so long as it isn't anything damaging. Aaaaand ... that's that.

It was a quiet sort of evening at the villa, and Nathicana, for once, had the place (more or less) to herself. The small group of household staff were out, attending to their own private lives – she was their employer, not their owner after all, and she was not one who needed to be waited on hand and foot in any case. Of course the guards were where they needed to be, but inside her home wasn’t one of those places. The children were out seeing friends, and she had already enjoyed a light dinner that Don had thoughtfully prepped for a simple warm-up before leaving earlier in the day.

She sat with her legs curled up underneath her on a couch in the front room, a photo album in her hands. The soft, warm light of sunset washed in through the open windows looking out across the courtyard, tinting the sheer curtains alongside them with a blush of color. She could smell the sea air from below on the light breeze that ruffled them, and sighed with contentment as she nestled in a bit more comfortably, and opened the album.

There were a lot of memories contained here, she thought with a wistful sort of smile. She had never thought of herself as overly-sentimental, but having children had changed a lot of things, this among the least of those.

One of her favorites had always been a set she’d had made when the twins were just babies (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Kids/thebabies.jpg), done in a soft light, the two of them cuddled up together in a white blanket, a single red rose laid across the bottom. They had been so tiny, so innocent … and even then, had seemed most content when together.

As they’d grown older and more independent, their personalities became even more clear. Marcus was the more mischievous (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Kids/marcus_1yr.jpg) one, mirroring his father in so many respects that it was almost frightening, save for his idealism. Naiya on the other hand, while enjoying sharing in her brother’s exploits, and having ample imagination, was the more quiet (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Kids/naiya_1yr.jpg) child, introspective, thoughtful, and often having surprising insight into those around her.

Oh, she was happy enough, most of the time, but as they grew and understood more of how things were around them, it had become more difficult, and though it affected Naiya the most, created problems for both the children.

Naiya, after all, was not Devon’s child – and he never let her forget that. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t her fault, her very existence was a reminder to him of an old enemy, and he saw her as a threat to his own flesh and blood, and further, the inheritance he’d worked so hard to carve out for him.

Superfecundation was easily explained scientifically, but not so easily justified to children already confused by the odd treatment of one by the man they viewed as the father figure in all of this. Nathicana had always taken responsibility for the situation, had been as to the point as was required at the time considering ages and the like, and had always tried her best to treat the children fairly, and make up for the lack on Naiya’s (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/naiya_5yr.jpg) part when Marcus (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/marcus_5yr.jpg) went off with his father.

Naiya understood well enough, and understood she had the support of her brother, and mother, but couldn’t help but long for the one thing it seemed she would never have – a father. That was a hole no amount of words could patch, no amount of explaining could solve, and no amount of balancing could make right.

It was a guilt Nathi had to live with, and an unfair burden she knew she had placed on an innocent child. No matter how she argued and fought with Devon, he had always been stubbornly unwilling to budge. And it was the one thing she hated him for, no matter how much she loved him otherwise.

She sighed, and turned the page, looking over the various photographs of friends and family and fun occasions she’d managed to capture here and there. Pictures of so many she’d miraculously managed to somehow become involved with, sometimes under the oddest of circumstances.

Her children had a plethora of adopted ‘family’ the way things stood. Bondayehr and Shorty, and their children, whom the twins had grown up with knowing from the beginning, Aunty Shodey, who was constantly encouraging them to even greater mischief, as a proper aunt should she would no doubt note, all the leaders they had grown up around, unperturbed, seeing this as ‘normal’, and while in a position of authority, viewing them as ‘just people like the rest of us’. They’d had the advantage of learning from many, an being able to take that learning and mesh it with her own instructions, and their schooling, to develop what she thought was a much more rounded view of things than she’d ever had growing up.

Hopefully, it would pay off in the end. She felt Naiya (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Kids/naiya_10.jpg) benefited the most that way, understanding the ‘better’ ways that things could go, but having a strong grasp of the reality of any given situation. Marcus (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Kids/marcus_10.jpg) seemed to be a nearly hopeless idealist, caught up in the stories of Zio Timo he had grown up on, and the reality he could see in how he and others he knew, supported ideas of justice and right. She thought at times it had driven his father to distraction – something she took no little enjoyment in, admittedly. But she worried how it might affect him down the road when the time came for him to step up and take charge, as Devon clearly intended him to.

It wasn’t going to be easy, she knew. She could tell, even with how much he loved his father, there were rifts that had developed between Marcus and Devon. One point was always going to be his refusal to accept Naiya. The two children had remained close in spite of it all, she not blaming her brother for how things were, trying not to begrudge his treatment, and he loving her all the more for Devon’s lack.

She still remembered when Marcus had come to her out in the barn, concerned, saying Naiya wouldn’t come out of the bathroom and was crying. She’d run up the stairs and knocked on the door, hearing the quiet sobs, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what was going on.

Finally, the door had opened, to show Naiya, her previously dark hair dyed a beautiful shade of red. Nathicana paused, then had wrapped her up in a close embrace, and just let her cry.

“I thought maybe, maybe if I changed, like you used to be, maybe then …” the girl had sobbed, making Nathi hold her just a little tighter. Red was a nickname Devon had had for her long, long ago when they had first become involved, when she too had worn her hair similarly, before leadership and the fates of nations had come into play.

Devon had apparently taken one look at the girl, gotten angry, seemed almost on the verge of hitting her, then stormed off saying “You will never be her, and I will never forget what you are.”

Oddly, even after the fallout from that incident had finally passed, Naiya had chosen to keep her new color, never explaining it to her mother, and never again letting commentary from Devon affect her how it had that day.

They had both grown up beautifully, in spite of it all, she thought. Naiya (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Kids/naiya2-1.jpg) was a pretty young lady now, with her own quiet grace, still maintaining that odd insight to people and situations around her, and a presence that people too note of when she spoke. Marcus (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Kids/marcus.jpg) was taller than the rest of his family, strong and athletic, and though happy and well-liked, he had yet to show he excelled in any one area, sports or otherwise. Nathicana attributed it to him having been given far too much by Devon growing up, in spite of her best efforts to teach him otherwise. By comparison, he had had it altogether too easy, and though she knew he understood ‘how things were’, she wasn’t sure he really grasped the intricacies of it all, thinking somehow things would ‘just work out for the best’ all too often.

She sighed again, setting the album aside, and picking up a nearby glass of ice water from its coaster on the coffee table, sipping slowly, looking out the windows at the darkening sky. Hopefully, it would all work out for the best in the long run. In spite of all the many obstacles, it hadn’t really gone all that bad, all in all, so far. Still, she worried.

She was getting older, in spite of how well she felt she’d aged. Granted, she could go on indefinitely, given what Shodey was capable of, but even then, there were costs. She’d kept the grey that was sneaking in at her temples and showing up here and there among her dark locks, deciding it best to try and age as gracefully as she could manage rather than attempt to play any silly ‘one up’ games with younger women, leaders or otherwise. She still kept fit, regardless of the advantages her implants and boosts gave her – one still had to take care of ones self.

The fact was, unless she made the commitment to go to extremes, she simply wouldn’t be around forever, and even if she were, she herself couldn’t make her children’s choices for them. She had taught them as best she could, supported them, loved them, and tried to let them pick themselves up as often as she could bear. She’d made all the arrangements necessary for them to take up the reins when the time came, and be as successful as they chose to be, even going so far to make arrangements on the offhand chance Marcus had nothing for himself in Treznor, knowing about the deal Devon had cut with S.H.O.D.A.N. all those years ago.

It troubled her. She liked being in control. She couldn’t control everything, no matter how hard she might try. And sitting here worrying about it all, and what might or might not happen wasn’t going to help anyone anyway.

Reluctantly, she uncurled and stood up, taking her glass of water with her, and padded upstairs to her office. There was always work to be done, and it would take her mind off things at least until the kids got home later.