NationStates Jolt Archive

At the onset of the greatest crisis in Damiran history, as the waves of history threatened to wash over all that the Principality created, before the Warrior Clans of the East entered the region in full force the nation faced an usual event, as dictated by its constitution and very nature, the 'reign' of Liviu Librescu, the steaming engine of the Principality was about to end. The time had come for a new 'Principe' to rise and replace Librescu as head of state and many started their ploys for presidency.

”It's been five years already?” at his desk, the president entertained himself with his most trusted confidant, foreign minister Davout, one of his greatest supporters and the 'rock' of Damiran diplomacy, ”It's funny how time goes by when you're having fun,” he tried to sound funny, but his tired eyes told otherwise, ”Are you sure you don't intend to run?” came the expected question.

Emilian looked at the man in front of him, smiled for a second and then replied, the same reply he had offered before, when he and Librescu decided to changed the isolationist status quo in the nation so long ago, ”No, sorry old friend, but I don't think I could handle all the paperwork,” it was a good natured lie, but enough to bring a cloud to Liviu's face, ”You know me well enough to know that I won't change my mind.” They were old acquaintances these two, already old friends as the ink on the Principality's application to the Free World Alliance started to dry, the first step then in a troubled world for the nation beyond the disastrous, yet victorious Succession Wars and the constant meddling in the Alestra affair, a problem yet to be solved despite the government's best attempts. ”No,” the diplomat poured himself a glass of wine, ”It's already too late for that,” he looked intently at the liquid, ”Time for new blood to freshen up things around here.”

They both knew it wouldn't be the last time for Librescu to ask this question, even after the campaign started in a couple of days, even though the answer would not change. In a way, Davout realized, knew that his friend wanted to insure some sort of continuity, trust and belief in the Presidential institution. The man did so much, too much for the nation and now it came to haunt him. As the glorious kings of old, the man had no intention of leaving his work to an unworthy heir, one that would bring it to dust, but the alternative, whispered, proposed by few yet supported by many went against everything the man believed in. He would not become Prince! He would not establish himself as a monarchical ruler over Damirez. His belief in democracy would not allow it and were he not to fight for this belief, one day, sooner or later, another, perhaps as charismatic and able like him would seize the opportunity and instate as a tyrant , a ruler by might rather than right. No, Librescu would not allow that. In refusing the title of Prince the roots of democracy could no longer be removed despite the risks entailed by this move. If he, one so entitled in seizing the ancient right refused, then this vestige of the old age, the unwanted side of the Peteh legacy would be finally laid to rest, and end to that possibility, once and for all.

”That's what you said when I run for presidency the first time around!” the minister's remark always brought a smile to Librescu's lips, ”What does that make me then? Old blood?” there was no malevolent intention in the question, just one amused president allowing himself to joke with a friend.

”Well, I wouldn't say exactly old, but have you took a look in the mirror lately?” Davout asked of his friend.

”Have you?” Liviu retorted, not offended by the joke.

”Well, you see...” obviously the answer was a well rehearsed one, but one that had little substance to it by now. Whilst his looks changed little since he had taken office in the first Librescu administration, Davout's eyes were tired too. He had seen much, so much since he replaced the old Minister and started rebuilding what was left of the Foreign Department, now a flourishing institution, an important asset in protecting Damiran interests outside the nation. During the man's tenure as a minister there were countless crisis, events and affairs that the Principality saw itself involved with. Many brought great change upon the nation, whilst others were forgotten.

But in all truths, Librescu's fears were well founded. He knew his value well and for a new president, to equal what he had done would not be easy. ”Remember us,” he stopped laughing at Emilian's explanation and started talking, ”Nobody gave us a shot. An independent! Gunning for presidency! Remember what a good laugh it was?” defeating the traditionalists in the dominant Damiran parties had not been easy. Nobody gave Librescu a shot at presidency when he announced his intention to run, but soon, amazingly so, a coalition of young professionals rallied around him, making a presence that couldn't be ignored.

”Well, I remember,” the minister joined in the reminiscence, ”I remember having to draft my own letters to foreign leader!” they could laugh now, now that the Foreign Affairs Department finally recovered after the damage done by the isolation, but at that moment in time it truly was a desperate situation, Davout having to personally recruit his personnel, the lacks so severe that he lost many a nights doing menial organization tasks! But the difference was visible, and how it was! Now the Department boasted excellent diplomats and quite a record in obtaining what the Principality wanted.

”That won't happen again! You made sure of it,” the success registered by Davout had helped Librescu's policies like nothing else, the brilliant political maneuvers, such as those during the near conflict between The Principality and UFAN study cases for the next generation of diplomats.

”Yes, I sure did,” there was quite an amount of pride in Davout's words, thoughts of the people working now in the department assuring him about the future. Andrew Wallenstein for one distinguished himself in various situations, despite his knack for getting into somewhat 'unpleasant' situations. But the department registered success after success. Such as the warming of the relations with Weccanfeld, a feat considered nigh to impossible fifty years ago and partly to blame on the massive volume of Damiran investments in Weccanfeld, enough to allow certain, subtle attempts to be made to change the fascist nations to the south, improving the life of its citizens. ”They're all a bunch of clever foxes now,” he continued, remembering the way his men solved the Halakan affair, turning New Manth from a potential enemy to an ally, albeit a rather troubled one. ”They'll keep up the flag even if I decide to retire.”

”It's a pity,” and for a moment Librescu's tone changed, ”That not all could be solved with diplomacy...” they both knew what the president was talking about. Beyond several 'affairs' in which Damirez saw itself involved, there were other, bitter memories about the Alfegan crisis, the short and unwanted war with Mephras and even the recent conflict with Barronia.

”Yes, it was a tragedy, but still,” there was no telling how much more distress diplomacy avoided. The Delian League stood as proof as to what Damiran diplomacy could achieve. Alliances with dozens of nations. The close relations with some, the warm relations with others. Bit by bit, piece by piece, the nation moved forward, the difference produced by Librescu's two mandates clear as the sky, ”You can't deny what we achieved.”

”So,” the cheerful conversation was brought to a halt as Librescu decided to tackle business, ”Alexander Rayne? The media's going to go crazy about that one. Not to mention that the competition will take turns at demolishing him.”

”I know that, but the kid's made of strong stuff. I would recommend him otherwise. He may be a playboy, but he knows his stuff and he's a fast learner,” the main obstacle Davout knew, was going to be how the people reacted to the idea of having a head of state married to a foreigner. A foreign queen at that.

”I hope the kid knows what he's getting himself in. This isn't going to be easy. On him and on his marriage.”

To that Davout had no answer, but the debate regarding the elections went well into the night.


The next day, the main political factions in Damirez announced their candidates. Alexander Rayne was featured as an independent, supported by the Foreign Minister and many influential elements of Damiran society. This brought shock to the public as the young politician was obviously designated as some sort of successor to Liviu Librescu, as proved by Davout's support. But even so, there were many doubting that the young man had a true change. The technocrats and meritocrats, finally regrouped after the defeat administered by Librescu were out in full force. Each had their own candidates, and each intended to win. Adriana Danus ran for the technocrats, one of their most notorious representatives in the parliament whilst Virgil Alba ran for the meritocrats, a political powerhouse in his own right, he was often the voice of the opposition when faced with Librescu's sometimes radical reforms.

Beyond those three, another, fueled by lingering resentment regarding the unfortunate situations encountered by Damirez after the abandonment of isolation announced his intention to run. Francois Sena advocated the return to isolation and despite the favorable views the Damirans had on many nations, managed to gather sufficient support to be present in the race. As a reaction, Cezar Col argued for a more firm approach to matters and to firmer steps in regards to national security, no matter what the steps needed to insure it.

There was no way to predict the outcome, but in six months, out of the six candidates, one would be picked as the new president of Damirez, shouldering an immense responsibility: to walk in the shadow of Liviu Librescu.

OOC: In essence a thread to depict the election in Damirez during the developments in AoS, but also to portray the departure of Liviu Librescu from the position of president. IC comments, news reports and such are welcome. For the OOC part of it use this (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=566813) thread.

The Euphova Times

http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff76/Kevets13/800px-Wedding_rings-1.jpg

Emergence of a New Novan Power Couple?

Peteh, Damirez-- Today the various candidates for the Damiran presidency were announced, in the wake of the near end of the term of current president, Liviu Librescu. Among the many hopefuls is one name well known among Mephrasians, the current Prince-Consort, Alex Rayne. While known locally mainly as husband to Her Royal Highness Mei Mian, Rayne is in his home nation seen as a rising star in the political scene, centered around the Foreign Ministry. He has the support of many influential names in the Damiran establishment, and enjoys broad support among many in Damirez.

However, the path to the presidency will not be an easy one, as multiple parties in the nation hope to see their candidates in the presidency. While the presidency of Librescu, is viewed generally as a favorable time, particularly by many in Mephras, divisions still exist within the Damiran nation, with many conflicting visions for the future. Running as an independent will no doubt prove somewhat of a challenge for Rayne, as he will lack the party apparatus and money to support his candidacy. However, he is still a formidable opponent, and for many in Mephras, he will no doubt be the favored candidate.

Beyond the simple election of a neighbor's president, the addition of Rayne to the ballot will no doubt have widespread implications for Mephras and in particular the Empress. Should Rayne be elected, it would place a married couple at the helm of two Novan nations that have seen ever closer integration in recent years following the rise of Mei, resulting in freedom in movement and commitments to greater political ties. No doubt this recent news may provoke many in both nations to wonder, how much integration is too much?

Many have begun to ponder the implications of a Rayne victory, and many are not too pleased by the prospect. Yuri Kassat, a professor of political science at Euphova Imperial University notes the conundrum. "While both Alex and Mei cut their political teeth in their respective nations, and have largely found their success without the help of each other, average citizens in both nations will no doubt be highly critical of the two leaders 'special relationship.' It will be hard for many voters to believe that the relationship between husband and wife will not affect one's policy decisions." Many political pundits in both nations have already begun to speak of "boudoir politics" and are already speculating about what will no doubt be one of the most closely watched elections in recent Novan history.

So far, the Imperial Palace has only released a short press release, wishing all of the candidates the best in the election, and hoping that whoever wins will be able to continue to successfully guide Damirez on a path of peace and prosperity. The Empress also notes that she hopes that her private life and personal relationship with Mr. Rayne shall be respected throughout the campaign. Many commentators fear that the campaign may turn nasty, with supporters on multiple sides insulting the Empress to gain political points in Damirez. Such a strategy, while possibly successful in Damirez, will only serve to anger most Mephrasians, a possibly unwise move at a time when relations seem to be the best they have been in years.

But, below the somewhat superficial interests of maintaining a positive PR relationship between the two countries during the election, there is a serious concern over the very real possibility of having two Novan powers in what has been dubbed by some commentators as a "quasi-personal union." Many other regional neighbors have watched as Damirez has risen to prominence through the birth of the Delian League, and no doubt would closely monitor any development that would take place as the two rulers were at the helm of their nations.

Yet, for now, all is speculation, and as many have noted, in their current state, Damirez and Mephras still exist as wildly different nations, with separate and largely incompatible systems of bureaucracy, differing languages and separate cultures. Others point to the extreme success of the warming of relations between the two nations which has occurred during Librescu's term, noting that closer ties were already a goal of the two nations before announcement of Rayne's candidacy. So in the short term, it seems as though the two nations will continue to pursue independent paths, however whoever shall be sitting at the President's desk in Peteh will certainly dictate just how close these paths shall be.

With the announcement of Librescu's intention to step down from reelection, the Monavian government took it as a possible sign of change within the power structure of Nova, and the Delian League as well. It was not long before the information known throughout Damirez was being circulated in Monavian newspapers and websites. Commentary quickly grew rampant, and no commentators were more exited than they had been in a while.

Still, after the waves had passed, the normal state of affairs, the status quo, had remained unaffected thus far. How it would change under a new Damirian administration was unknown at the present, due to the fact that the election had not even taken place. Nonetheless, it was time for action.

As the announcement was formally given to the Monarchs, it was time to deal out some new cards in this match. Her Imperial Majesty, the ever bright Queen Elizabeth, took up her pen and a sheet of parchment stationery and began to write a letter to the Damirian President. She exprressed for the most part her concern about the status of the League and Nova as a whole, but luckily this task was brief.

PRIVATE

To His Excellency President Liviu Librescu of the Principality of Damirez,

Mr. President:

It has come to the general attention of the Monavian government that the domestic state of affairs in the Principality has been altered by the current political happenings there. The future change in administration shall affect the status of our relations, especially since I have, regrettably, little knowledge of Damirian political wrangling.

Regardless of which candidate for your office is elected in the next general election, it will be prudent to ensure that the Delain League remains a strong entity in the Novan Region, and that the relations with my government shall be permitted to continue on equal or better terms.

Sincerely,

Her Holy Imperial Majesty Elizabeth VI, Queen of Monavia and Defender of the Faith

Heissenen, Oceanian Atrea

Nestled within the heartland of Oceanian Atrea, Heissenen performed the formal role of capital of the Oceanian home country; however, every individual worth his or her salt knew that actual power had shifted since the 1960s to the more Oceanian cities of Alehessen, Hansa, and Regenshavn. Nonetheless, men like Frederick von Rybak and Sir Howard Kessel made the seasonal move to the city of Heissenen.

Situated along a riverbank, with the historic government buildings sitting atop a small hill behind ancient walls renovated in the 1990s—for the purpose of tourism—the city had managed to retain the aesthetic of an ancient and proud city. Indeed, after the long civil war, the city's managers pushed the commercial zoning outside the city limits and the gleaming skyscrapers of the city of millions could be seen downriver, their peaks visible over the greenbelt that surrounded the historic city.

At the edge of the greenbelt, in the midst of a large provincial park, a single villa commanded a view of the distant towers. The property was fenced off from the rest of Heissenen, however, though the fences were carefully landscaped so as to blend into the property and the nearby forests. At the ornately gated entrance, a trio of Atrean-made, black SUVs slowed only to flash credentials at the military guards stationed in stone guardhouses flanking the gates.

They then raced past, still having another kilometre or so to manage before reaching the roundabout that circled the fountain in front of the villa. When it finally arrived, another pair of ceremonial guards opened the doors of the second vehicle and escorted a tall, wispy man into the residence.

Frederick von Rybak still wore an overcoat, for despite the onset of summer, a cool chill had arrived from the western mountains and blanketed the capital. And the man, old with pasty skin hanging from his bones, knew the limitations of his own frail form. He shrugged the overcoat from his shoulders and handed it off to an accompanying staffer before walking into the main hall.

Sir Howard Kessel lumbered into the main hall from his private study. The visual was a stark contrast. Kessel was the shorter and the more rotund of the two. Von Rybak kept an even face, making a visibly straining effort to offer a visibly false smile. Kessel was far the more gregarious, clamping his hands around the bony fingers of von Rybak's in a hearty handshake. "How are you, Frederick?"

"As well as I can expect," von Rybak replied curtly. "And yourself, Governor?"

"Enjoying the wonderful fruit of democracy."

"As I can see."

Kessel smiled. "I am pleased to see you are enjoying parliamentary banter. Please, would you like to conduct this in my study?"

Von Rybak nodded. "Very much so, Your Excellency."

After local elections, Frederick von Rybak had become, as leader of the victorious Progressive Party, Premier of Oceanian Atrea. According to the Accession Act, local issues were the purview of von Rybak and his new ministry. Matters of taxation, defence, and foreign policy remained the responsibility of Georgetown, represented in Heissenen by Royal Governor Sir Howard Kessel. And it was for the matter of foreign policy that von Rybak had requested a meeting with Kessel.

"I am curious, Your Excellency, as to how Georgetown intends to handle the issue of these upcoming Damiran election?" von Rybak asked directly just as the doors clicked shut.

"You are always so to-the-point, Frederick, you must learn to take these issues in stride. Please, do sit down, first," Kessel motioned for the man to take one of the two chairs sitting opposite his desk. The governor waited until the premier was seated before taking his own seat. "That is far better."

Von Rybak offered Kessel another patently false smile. "As you may be aware, Governor, the press here in Heissenen and across Oceanian Atrea is taking great interest in the elections to the north. My party members have received numerous enquiries about how the government in Georgetown is going to react to these elections. And I would like to offer you this chance at coordinating a response between our two offices."

Kessel laughed. "Do you follow the Oceanian press at all, Frederick? King George is dead, as is Lord Salisbury. This is all in the midst of a general election cycle. Quite frankly, the Foreign Office has sent me barely more than the usual notices and briefs."

"Are we hearing anything about the potential for increased dialogue with the Principality?"

"Again, quite frankly, Novan relations are not anywhere near the top of the immediate concerns for any of the major candidates, nor even His Majesty's Government. Besides, from what I read in the local press, none of the candidates have even addressed relations between our two states; relations, may I add, that have been rather frosty as of late."

Von Rybak nodded solemnly. "That much is certainly true. But I do not put as much faith in the rumours of conflict that some around here do. Our nations have had their differences as of late, but you must remember that while we now each honour different heads of state and different constitutions, we share a common ancestry."

"You are correct," Kessel added sharply. "I may not be of this land, Frederick, but I am aware of its complicated history. And need I remind you that the United Kingdom not only has a channel open through low-level contacts here in Oceanian Atrea, but more high-level contacts through the Fedala Accord. Relations have certainly been chilly, but they have remained cordial and I assure you that silence from Georgetown is not ignorance. But, if you are so concerned, I shall certainly pass on these concerns to Georgetown. And in the meantime, I urge you to refrain from doing or saying anything rash in forthcoming sessions of Parliament. I assure you that Georgetown would rather keep speculation and rumours to a minimum. Besides, our elections are in two months, theirs in six. There shall be a great deal of time to deal with the issues over the coming weeks."

Peteh, the city of the Prince was the place where Cezar Col made his intention to run for presidency official. Although the news papers were already aware of it, the morning edition of several respected journals listing the candidates and what was expected to be their political platform, this was a formality that no candidate could go without. Although he was not alone in announcing his intention to run, the same day used by the traditionalist Francois Sena to announce his intentions in the same city, a whole crowd of reporters hunted his every move for the day.

It was no coincidence that Col selected the city of Peteh as the place to announce his intention to run. The bastion of freedom, the last and always independent Principality of Peteh was housed between the mountains for countless years, never to yield, never to surrender to the Empire that conquered the rest of Damirez before that faithful day when the Prince himself ratified the treaty of Union following the new acquired independence of Damirez. It was here, more than anywhere else that the memories of the wars endured by the young nation lingered more than anywhere else. And how could it not when most of the troops that fought to preserve the independence of The Principality and safe guard its interests came from Peteh. It was this group that Cezar Col counted on at the start of his campaign.

The Col family was a family whose members often distinguished themselves in the field. Just shy of gaining the honorary title of Prince, they were amongst the last remaining families of Peteh traditionalists, remembering the days of the old principality and the interventionist policy of the last prince. Despite the fact that the history book all around the nation paid homage to Prince Carol and his dedication for Damiran independence, there was nowhere else that the feeling of respect and awe manifested themselves more strongly than in Peteh.

The agitation of the reporters didn't bother Cezar. He was already used to them having held public office before as a representative in the Elective Chambers. He knew that it was different now, with the entire nation watching his every step for the next months but he took comfort in knowing that he wouldn't be the only one having to deal with the merciless jackals and their questions. More than anything else, his mind was troubled by the conversation he had with his own father the night before the announcements.

”So, I see you intend to run?” the elder Col, a veteran of the Great war had invited his son for a quiet dinner at his summer house near the mountains, the old building a favorite retreat for both of them. ”I still think it's too early for you to gamble it like this.” Despite his age, the patriarch was a shrewd politician in his own right, often manipulating meritocrats and technocrats to attain his own interests.

”It's time, father,” like any good family of politicians there was quite a bit of bad blood regarding the subject between the two, ”You know as well as I do that we can't allow Librescu's men to gain another term,” the family had supported the now retiring president when he first run. A charismatic man, Librescu was something that the Col's and many others like them expected for a long time to upset the balance of power in Damiran politics against the traditionalists.

”You're not ready yet,” there was much conviction in the voice of the patriarch, ”And Davout's not running. Who else out of Librescu's crew can replace him? This is a rash decision you're making.” The elder Col supported his son's ambitions for presidency and often employed his own influence to further this goal, but in his eyes the time was not yet right.

”We can't gamble on that. Besides this is even more reason for me to run. Without a 'successor' the votes are free to go towards any other candidate. We can't afford that father, it would just lead to another status quo, a stalemate that we can't shatter.” In all truths, whilst the Col family supported Librescu's quest for ending the Damiran isolationism and establishing relations with other nations, they didn't agree with his soft way of handling matters. The man, they concluded, was a diplomat at heart, unwilling to resort to other available options until it was too late.

”Yo lack support Cezar,” whatever else the man wanted to say was interrupted by the noise of steps coming from the kitchen and the young voice of the self appointed cook of the house, the youngest of the family.

”Dinner's ready, dad, gran'.” Augusta was the youngest of the clan and in their eyes somewhat of a rebel since none of the family could make heads or tails of what made her tick. It was an established consensus not to talk politics in front of her ever since the last war in Mephras when the teenage girl spent days in front of her computer only to erupt in a violent speech when a member of the family insulted the Mephrasi empress and her relation with the then rising star of Damiran diplomacy, Alexander Rayne. In retrospect, the fact that she had a huge poster of the Empress in her room should have been a clue to her sympathies.

The dinner afterward was a quiet, pleasant affair, except for one remark from his daughter, ”Think Alex's going to run daddy?” It troubled the man. In the dirty sea of politics, the younger generation had only managed to see Librescu's gang of wackos, many of them finding models amongst them and even his daughter often mentioned following the family tradition under arms after meeting Fatima Al'Hamil at one of the Hacker Olympics. There was no way to predict how this was going to influence the elections and his campaign, but one thing was certain, there was no time to lose.

”.. thank you for your participation and for further...” he ended the press conference, anxious to meet with his campaign staff, for the first time during the campaign.

OOC: This post and a few other are used to show bits and pieces about the candidates and the country, I'll reply to posts as soon as I'm done with all the candidates.

”He advocates a way of life that’s out of our grasp now some say,” Sena’s camp had few supporters with financial clout as many in the business circles chose to support the more open minded candidates in regards to foreign affairs, ”But he’s going to have his share of supporters.”

”I know, the Isolationists rallied up behind him already and there’s quite a number of people unhappy with how Librescu handled things. Those might be drawn to his camp.”

”That’s probably what he’s counting on, otherwise the Isolationist lack both votes and support for this to mean anything and I tell you, they’re making a lot of fuss over it,” the last line lacked any substance as all those involved in the conversation were well aware about the political motives and movements of the participants in the presidential race as reporters for various news agencies following the race.

”Enough that you start think they actually stand a chance to win these elections, no?” a new voice interrupted the conversation, one that they were well familiar with.

”Why, you know we only deal with facts Representative Sena, we’ve got the duty of objectivity in what we report, feelings and presumptions don’t usually belong in our columns,” a tall brunette replied casually, ”We’d certainly be interested to hear your opinion on the matter, after all you’re the one running for presidency against the current.”

”What’s this? No request for a private interview? Should I start feeling neglected by the media?” presumably, his words were serious, but the upward turn of his lips revealed his amusement, ”You’ll get your answers at the conference, if I started an impromptu meeting here my staff would go after my head for ruining the schedule.”

No sooner that those words were spoken another voice signalled a new arrival, ”Francois? They’re waiting for you.”

”See? What did I tell you?” the Representative smiled and headed towards the door leading towards the conference room, the reporters close behind him all the while his staff members doing their best to ignore his casual behaviour with the media.

”They’re like vultures,” the warning came at the last staff meeting before the official start of the campaign, ”Just waiting for a slip.”

”Tell me something I don’t know,” the somewhat annoyed reply came, ”But that’s the best way to handle them.”

”The best way to handle them until they rip you to pieces that is!” there were obviously some in the candidate’s staff less than entertained with the media, ”They’re going to be watching your every move for the whole campaign!”

”I know that! Could you stop being so pessimistic already? I know the media, I know that this race’s going to be tough, but what would you have me do?” the whole idea of actually having someone else decide things for him wasn’t one Francois enjoyed too much but was forced to accept due to the complexities involved in a campaign almost months long.

”All we’re saying is that you take a more prudent approach when dealing with the media,” his campaign chief moved in to prevent a more heated debate, ”A bit of precaution is a small price to pay…”

The debate went well into the night and, as Francois headed home, he wondered if that particular subject would be brought to a conclusion.

He spent his time on the road to review his notes and speech for the next day. The staff insisted, despite the fact that he was a proficient driver, to get a chauffeur for the trip home. His house was at the outskirts of Peteh, quite a bit of a drive from the location of the meeting. Someone in his staff booked a condo at one of the hotels in town for him and his wife, but Valentine refused to abandon the comfort of her home for a rented room. She supported his campaign, but as long as they were in Peteh there was no way she would leave her home for a hotel.

OOC: Needs a little or more polish, but I'm back to this thread.

*Bump for an ally.*