NationStates Jolt Archive

“You know, the fact that I'm not human does not infer that I do not have feelings.” - Alexander Kazansky was wearing black - black jeans, a black tee shirt that left his long, slender arms exposed, black boots, and so forth. One of his wives was standing in front of him, looking up with worry in her eyes.

“...what do your feelings have to do with anything? It's an official visit, I don't see why you should go there, they obviously...”

“No, Angie. It would be true, what you're saying, if this were a state visit. But it is'nt, Angie.”- the boy looked sadly at her. “Allanea has what it needs – advanced technologies, a booming economy, what-have-you. We don't need anything that bad as to require me to go to Menelmacar as a President.”

He paused.

“But I do miss the Lady Sirithil. She is a wonderful person – oh, no, I don't care for her like that, Angie, don't be silly. She's older then Western Civilisation, even if she doesn't look it. But she's a wonderful person, again. She took care of me when the world itslef was against me. She knows me, and she actually treats me like a person, and.. she's a great being. I want to see her again.”

* * * * *

Your Majesty!

You remember me, I am certain, from when you took me in and housed me in Vinyatirion.Back then, I was an exile, hunted throughout the world. I needed help, and you gave me of your kindness when you could expect nothing in return. Today, when my nation is strong – stronger then it was before that terrible war – I feel I need to see you again – not in any presidential capacity, but as Alexander Kazansky, the guy whose hide you saved more then once.

Can I drop by – not for negotiations, but for coffee?

Yours,
With all love and respect,
Alex

(marked Executive, Eyes Only)

Sirithil frowned as she held the letter delicately in long and elegant fingers. It would not be readily apparent, to an observer, whether she was holding it in the manner one might hold fine crystal - or a dirty diaper.

"Kazansky," she muttered quietly to herself. She wasn't really sure how to take the Allanean's missive. On the one hand, if she accepted his request for an... audience? ...it would look bad. Very bad. On the other hand, she had always... liked was the wrong word. Pitied the boy. So many chances she had given him! And how many people had told her it was foolishness. But something about him told the Lady he was trying... he simply could never get it right. Dealing with the President of Allanea... seemed almost the definition of manic depression.

Where? When? She gestured to her holo, and scrolled idly through the 'pages' of her schedule, projected in the air above the device in shimmery blue-white Quenya script. Then... she hit on an idea.

She picked up a sheet of parchment and a pen - amid all her technology, all the works of her people, sometimes old school was still the best school - and she began to write.

Lady Sirithil Finlaurë Nalosaurawen Aineldalië nos Fëanor, Elentári of Menelmacar, to Alexander Kazansky, greetings...

It was with, I confess, both pleasure and some trepidation that I received your letter. My schedule is very busy of late and as such I am unable to receive you in Vinyatírion per your request. However, I am making a short trip out to one of our colony systems to inspect MIV Bragollach, my new battleplate. If you would like to meet my ship, MIV Gilthoniel as she breaks orbit, you can accompany me, though of course you would not be cleared for much of the actual inspection. I know you'll enjoy a glimpse of Bragollach, with your love of all things death-dealing.

I plan to depart on ((date and time)).

Manwë bring fair winds to your sails,

Sirithil

Ah, security. Parchment in a pouch? That's fine... enchanted only to be opened by Alex, and to crumble to dust after he reads it. She rolled up the parchment, tied it with ribbon and sealed it with wax, in a daggerstar design. She placed this in a diplomatic pouch, and called for a courier to bring it to Port Allanea directly, promising the young elf who came to do the job extra hazard pay for having to go there.

The Anne Coulter gravitic fighter tore out of the athmosphere like an immense bullet. The opitcal camoflage shifted to make the vehicle jet-black, leaving only USSN marking visible. Kazansky was inside the fighter, of course. Due to the environmental controls and the brevity of the journey, he decided not to wear a flight suit for the duration – he would be there within maybe thirty seconds.

He did not refuse himself the pleasure of performing several 'aerial' figures that would have generally been considered suicidal at these speeds for anybody but the most well-trained Thoron pilots, and then made way towards the Gilthoniel.

In the meanwhile Kazansky again took stock of his own outfit – a black T-shirt, black pants and boots that'd be known as 'combat boots' everywhere except in Allanea where they are all the rage – as much as Allanea has a 'rage'. A small computer was tucked into the front pocket of the shirt, but other then that the President didn't bring anything special along – except, of course, the craft itself, but he doubted it'd interest the elves. They were kind of like that, after all. Their loss, not mine. I'm just here to see the Elentari.

On an afterthought, there was something special along – a small suitcase packed safely next to Kazansky's seat. It was not quite clear what it contained, but one thing would be almost certain – those would be things worthy of an Elven Queen.

“Gilthoniel, this is Annie One, setting up for approach, over. Do you read me, Glithoniel?”

They did, of course – the advances of space and subspace comms these days made the old exchange of phrases practically obsolete – but by now it had become a tradition, and as such, it's would make everybody slightly happer. Kazansky needed that.