Just a test-scene of sorts, useful since Rude, Cal and Vandre had just returned to HQ. Cut off since people had to go.
Imperial Palace - Lobby
The lobby is quite simple yet as impressive as the rest of the Palace with high-ceilinged walls that are covered from top to bottom in expensive and luxurious looking tapestries, and numerous paintings of ancient and famous peoples and royalties of the past. Two pathways lead off towards the west and east wing that disappear around the corner, and another, wider path leads northwards towards a second set of even more impressive double doors towards the dining room.
Contents:
Vandre
Rude
Obvious exits:
<East> [leads to 'Imperial Palace - East Wing']
<West> [leads to 'Imperial Palace - West Wing']
<North> [leads to 'Imperial Palace - Dining Room']
<South> [leads to 'Imperial Palace - Front Gates']
[Rude:]
[Caliah:] Soft, heavy, booted footfalls resound mutedly on the length of carpet stretched along the length of the lobby, approaching from the south at a leisurely pace and long stride; a tall, lean silhouette slips into the hall, framed fleetingly by the daylight streaming in through the open door, her shadow ghosting before her on the floor, then pooling at her feet as the last rays of sunlight relinquish themselves to the light from within the hall itself. Starkly clad in comparison to the lavish furnishings, opulent tapestries and wall-hangings, the individual - pale-haired and white-skinned, what little of her remained exposed in the dark garments she was garbed in - cuts an unusually drab figure, unmarked by anything but her unusual colouring; yet her demeanour - calm and watchful, taking in west and east and north with barely perceptible side-glances - suggests one in command of herself, regardless of place.
Nevertheless, she hesitates, sharp violet eyes easily making out the figure of the Turk in his all-too-familiar suit, as much a uniform as any drabs that belonged to the others who served Shinra - and one gloved hand pulls at her collar, a restless gesture perhaps, or an uneasy one. Difficult to discern, what with that impassive countenance, the veiled gaze. "I still have trouble adjusting to the Palace up till now," is murmured beneath her breath, directed at her companion as she resumes her pace.
[Vandre:] A young and tall man slips in after the pale-haired figure, falling her pace as he gazes around, eyes widening slightly as he grazes his lower lip with his teeth. "I never get tired of it" he replies, pausing for a moment to admire the lavish decor of the lobby and the many paintings. "I don't think we had much art at the Shinra Headquarters back in Midgar, or did we?" He asks, thinking out loud for the most part. His own self reflection tarries him and he moves quickly to catch up to his companion, who kept moving despite his own digression.
[Thesia:] "Welcome to the imperial Palace.." replies an almost sweet, melodic voice from somewhere behind Vandre, though there is a certain tinge of firmness there too, her accent touched with a cool, icy tone which goes well with her frigid demeanor...Definitely NOT your average SOLDIER, she could probably be mistaken easily at first for one of the fabled espers, though she is less flashy and dressed more conservatively. Long, snow white hair flows behind her as she enters the lobby, matching well with her pristine white uniform which bears the considerable rank of General, but more noticeable is her pale frost tinged skin. No doubt she is one of the few, mysterious half-espers that has joined the Imperial Power. As she comes into plain view, she nods to Rude, offering only a somewhat cool smile towards the only Turk here that she knows from a long time back, "Rude. Good to see you made it back here alright...And you must be Vandre.." she nods in turn to Vandre, "And...SOLDIER Caliah, I believe?" a nod is given the other white haired woman now, no doubt having recognized her from some file or other.
[Rude:]
[Caliah:] Precise and smooth as one accustomed to protocol, the lithe female SOLDIER that Thesia had named issues a crisp salute, and a courteous, if no less exact, "General,' in cut-crystal tones. Rather than distracting the other woman and the suited Turk from what might commence as a conversation, she slants a mildly curious, observant eye at Rude at his mention of a 'trip,' lips thinning slightly in thought as the man speaks.
Only when he does finish does she venture to speak, if briefly. "We'd just returned from Middleverse, ourselves, having tested two vehicles that were slated for distribution. No mishaps or accidents, which was a particular stroke of luck, considering."
[Vandre:] Gaze lingering on some of the art once again, Vandre pries himself free and hurries to move to Caliah's side. "He--erm, General" he says, voice deep and smooth as he offers Thesia a formal salute. His gaze falters as he eyes the bald-headed man in the suit. In a blink his attention focuses back to Caliah. "Oh, right...the bikes, they rode smoothly. Didn't sore up the legs at all. Mechanic sure was pleased about that, though not especially..." he catches himself, coughing as he turns to face Thesia once more, eyes glinting.
[Rude:] He turns walking back toward Thesia, Caliah and Vandre. He steps within a few steps of them and crosses his arms over his chest. ".... I think I'll be needing one of those vehicles soon." He glances upward slightly. "..Unless I'm needed to stay here." He continues and glance from Caliah to Vandre, then to Thesia. "...I also need to be refitted.. and re-equipped." He says, finishing. His head tilts up, and he begins eyeing the darker corners of the lobby suspiciously, but shakes his head, pushing the paranoid thoughts back out.
[Caliah:] The luminous, electric glow to Caliah's gaze might be seen to flicker slightly at Vandre's words, a pulse of lightning within the heart of a storm - but rather than clouded or thunderous, her ice-pale profile remains unmoved as ever but for the curve of her mouth, her lips having taken on a distinctly wry, amused cast. "I don't think that Research and Development had creature comforts in mind when they produced them," the tall young woman observes in a deceptively bland near-whisper, her stance straight and steel-backed in the well-fitted longcoat she wore. The amusement is, however, all too fleeting - as Rude voices his need for a vehicle and equipment, she flicks her quiet gaze to him.
"The motorcycles aren't fitted with any particular defensive devices but for the usual armaments and weapons storage," she informs him. "That and their speed, but their agility leaves something to be desired. Less weight on the frame maybe. That remains to be seen once they formally issue them, but perhaps you could road-test one as we have."
[Vandre:] Eyes flitting from Rude, to Caliah, to Thesia, Vandre keeps equal study on all three. He remains silent, teetering a bit at random times on his heels as if fidgeting, be it restlessly or anxiously. Throat shuddering he coughs and peers up at the speaking of the bikes. "Still...comfortable and getting here to Traverse Town doesn't take all that long." He pipes in before lowering his voice and falling back into silence.
[Rude:] Rude listens quietly and attentively. "...It will do." he speaks softly. "..I intend to do some searching..." and perhaps... a seek and destroy, Rude says the last bit to himself. Not wanting yet to let on what happened in Traverse Town, he doesn't want to unintentionally fulfill Jacks prophecy, and probably would not return himself if he could help it. He turns slightly, waiting a bit in place. "..Can you... point me in the right direction for my refitting?" He ask.
[Caliah:] The pale-haired female SOLDIER merely keeps her regard upon Rude, impassive but for a faint flicker in her eyes at the Turk's...hesitation, his refraining to voice whatever he had been about to say. She cants her head as if remembering, passing a finger lightly over her lips. "I believe you might inquire in the west wing, on the second floor, unless they've moved the clothing and supply room elsewhere. Of course it's been a good few months since I had any need to visit them, since I have uniforms and the like sent directly to the garrison or where we're stationed."
A fraction of a pause, and Caliah queries, as if in afterthought, "Are you being assigned anywhere in particular over the coming few weeks?"
[Rude:] Rude nods, glancing over into he direction of the west wing. "I understand." He says shortly, he doubted his measurements were still on file and imagined he would have to go there himself anyway, then wait a few days for the suit to be created itself. He had so much to do and wasn't sure how much time he had to do it in. Though Turk training had taught him to be efficient when possible. He sets off in the direction pointed out for him, possibly mumbling a word of thanks? It was to low to be heard for sure. However he stops, when she begins speaking again. "..."
He turns and looks back at her. "...I've received no orders since I've arrived here.. other then to... 'sit tight and familiarize myself with the palace." He says. "Why?"
[Caliah:] "Call it idle curiosity." Caliah's voice never shifts in tone, inflectionless and unchanged. She hooks a wrist over the protruding hilts of the weapon sheathed at her hip, pausing. "It's also useful to know where there are potential allies, in the case trouble comes knocking. It has a habit of finding one when it's least expected." The cliché slips easily through her lips, almost blithely, though her manner seems far from casual, if indeed it ever really was. "Don't let me keep you."
-----
Character descs:
Rude
You begin to size up the tall dark man in front of you. Glimpses at his form reveal an intimidating demeanor. He is a large man, who towers over his fellow Turks. Everything about him screams that he likes to be efficient. He wears a very dangerous looking suit. A glance would confuse you into thinking he could be a paper pusher, that the suit he wears was well kempt because it seemed to be in good order. However if your close enough to pick out details, you would see small scuffs. Imperfections litter what from a distance might have seemed a well pressed suit. The fabric of this suit has seen many battles, and has been carefully mended quite a few times. These mends however have been camouflaged very well.
Dark glasses perch on the edge of his nose. Hiding his eyes from the outside world. Very few can attest to the color of Rude's eyes as he is rarely seen without them. He would wear them indoors, but not at night. His face itself appears to be chiseled from stone, his brows and cheeks molded to a very stern shape, giving him the appearance of almost constantly scowling. He also appears to care more about the upkeep of the hair on his head then on his chin. A slight gleam reflects off his ritually shaven head, while less then managed facial hair grows on his chin approaching upward to a nonexistent mustache.
Long legs lead down to tightly laced boots. Dark scuffed pants, kept in the same fashion as his jacket, hang from a black belt. The pants themselves contain deep pockets, where Rude keeps an assortment of gil and a few extra clips for his primary weapon. His sleeves conform to strong muscles. Giving Rude the overall look of a civilized brute. Punctuating his sleeves are fingerless gloves with golden studs on the tip of each knuckle.
Before you, stands an unmistakable Turk.
Thesia