[Cal] One of the Empire

Characters: Cal, Izella
The Magitek Knight seeks out Caliah and her unit. Introductory rp. (As usual I keep the @emit sources in the log, normally you don't see these [name:] things when you have nospoof off.)

Traverse Town Inn - 2nd Floor

A long red carpeted hallway continues up the stairs and leading to the second floor of the inn, revealing more amber lamps along the walls that light the central path as well as the numerous elegant paintings that are hung up along the walls between the doors to the rooms. Here too, the rooms seem to be color coded, each with a unique theme to it. There are also a few long windows every so often between the walls and doors allowing a peak of the ever twilight town outside.

Obvious exits:
<Cyan> [leads to 'Traverse Town Inn - Cyan Room']
<Taupe> [leads to 'Traverse Town Inn - Taupe Room']
<Orange> [leads to 'Traverse Town Inn - Orange Room']
<Purple> [leads to 'Traverse Town Inn - Purple Room']
<Yellow> [leads to 'Traverse Town Inn - Yellow Room']
<Down> [leads to 'Traverse Town Inn - Main Floor']

[Caliah:] Sunlight streams in through one of the windows, gilding dust-motes in the still air of the corridor; a few muted noises filter through from the rooms lining the hall, restless footsteps, murmuring voices, doors opening and closing. Despite that the tranquil silence throughout most of the inn holds sway here on its upper levels, and the few individuals one encounters usually hurry on their way elsewhere. It would be far too easy, indeed, to pass over the slim figure reclining against the wall opposite the hall window, head bent and arms folded; pale hair spills untidily over brow, jaw and nape, hiding part of the stranger's face from view. What little of it that can be glimpsed head-on from the hallway is pale and sharp, and an unlit cigarette juts from those thin lips.

The stranger's gloved finger taps impatiently on the wall, keeping time to some unseen clock; it's unclear if he were aware of anything beyond the cyan-painted door he seems to be keeping an eye on.

<OOC> Caliah says, "bah, you two are younger than me."
<OOC> Caliah flexes her 22-year-oldness.

[Izella:] A young woman in casual clothes walks silently up the stairs and down the corridor, proceeding to discreetly pause at each door to listen for something. She notices the man leaning across one of the large windows but ignores him, turning the other way as she walks past. Pretty soon the woman reaches the end of the hallway. Faced with a blank wall, she sighs, turns around and walks in the opposite direction - this time stopping to lean on the wall, a few meters apart from the slim, platinum-haired individual.

She pushes her glasses up, then reaches into her pocket to produce a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

[Caliah:] Tension, reined-in and contained, ripples over the platinum-haired youth's form as he espies the unfamiliar young woman; he tilts a slow, deliberate eye at the other in the corridor, fingers closing over the cigarette in his mouth and slipping it unlit from his lips just as she paces past.

"Looking for something in particular?" he queries smoothly, all traces of his previously evinced impatience vanished as if it had never been, the dim light in the corridor reflected eerily in eyes that seemed far too luminous to be natural. "Or -someone-, that is."

[Izella:] Turning towards the boy in front of her, the raven-haired woman breaks into a cautious grin. "The Empire ordered me to investigate the chaos at the arena, and passerby told me some of the wounded were brought here. I recall seeing you in the past, but I am not sure where."

[Caliah:] The tall, lean stranger's expression remains even and unmoved, the mention of the Empire eliciting only a faint, musing exhalation of breath. "Hm."

"You say the Empire sent you?" That diffident gaze sharpens minutely on the other before him, the cigarette he'd held having disappeared from his black-clad fingers as if he'd palmed it, the closed door across the corridor seemingly forgotten. "You just might have, although I can't say there aren't others who look like me; it's surprising what you come across in this town. What did you say your name was?"

[Izella:] "Make no mistake about it though, I am not pretending that I know you in any way. Only that you seemed familiar. In any case, those mako enhancements seem to do wonders for one's appearance. You can call me Izella. Might I know yours?" She pauses for a moment, then continues to speak in the same nonchalant tone. "I only have a few questions for those involved, for formality. This does not concern the Empire directly, after all."

[Caliah:] "That's quite direct of you." Rather than answering, the lithe SOLDIER might be thought to smile fleetingly, a mirthless curving of his lips; he ignores the comment on mako, eyes still fixed on the slighter individual in a gaze devoid of any discernible emotion. "I daresay after the attack on Vector that any Heartless activity would be of substantial interest to both Shinra and the Empire. As it is I feel a report's long overdue."

Observing the woman minutely for any reaction, the pale-haired SOLDIER leans back against the wall as he had earlier, propping a boot-heel against the fancy wallpaper, curiously quiet - until the sound of footsteps belies the presence of someone further down the corridor, necessitating the need for his silence. A door opens and closes, and he sees fit to wait a few minutes before speaking again. "Izella...? Is that a first name, a surname, or just a handle you go by? I've met a few...deserters, or ones passing themselves off as Imperials." His tone is cold, impersonal. "You understand the need for caution of course."

[Izella:] "Izella is a first name, and Audrin would be her last. The poor girl never did get out much, and that would probably be why she decided to humor her superiors by accepting this assignment. Alchohol is not allowed for those on active duty."

Izella smirks a little and shakes her head. "Fair enough, that you request identification."

Without another word, Izella draws one of her daggers from its sheath. "I assume you are versed in magic? Cast any spell, save summonings, upon me. It creates quite a surge."

[Caliah:] Even before the knight's last few words trail off into silence, the tall, black-garbed youth in front of her is lifting the flap of his worn leather coat and slipping a miniature, emerald-hued orb from within a hidden pocket. "No excuses need be made," he answers succintly. "Orders are orders; all that remains is for us to obey them." Clear brow puckering slightly in concentration as he focuses on drawing the magic from the materia, he casts it on the woman before him without a single murmur, the weak Poisona spell flickering about her in pale jadeite hues.

[Izella:] With one smooth upward flick, the woman slices at thin air as if forming a cross-shaped incision. At the same time, the reflective surface of the runic dagger ripples in a faint, noticable green at first before suddenly emitting a bright flash that disappears as soon as it came. Izella closes her eyes for a moment as the pure energy harmlessly courses through her body. "I am not the Former General Celes Chere," she says, with her eyes closed. "Not many of us were made. Enough for ShinRa to keep track, at least. Was that sufficient?"

"Otherwise, I could have shown you this as well," the woman plainly says as she produces an identification card from her jacket pocket.

[Caliah:] The General's name, so casually given, elicits an arched eyebrow from the slim SOLDIER; the identification card only earns a cursory glance, the violet gleam of his eyes still hooded. Nevertheless it occasions for an introduction of sorts, his name just as carelessly said, if without any imparted significance - "Caliah Liancourt, SOLDIER, First Class."

It's apparent, from the brief, considering nod he imparts to the M-tek Knight, that the show of ability had been more than sufficient for him. "This way then." Gesturing at the door across from the two of them, the very same doorway he'd been watching earlier, he moves to open it before she can utter anything in answer, or possible protest. "We were involved in the fighting," the youth utters tersely, motioning for her to enter.

[Izella(#1881)] "I see my assumptions were correct. Well met, Caliah Liancourt, SOLDIER, First Class." Izella bows slightly, and starts to speak before entering the hotel room. "Pardon my rudeness. Some say it is second nature. I would indeed like to speak with you and your companions."

-----
Izella
This slim female's smooth, caramel-colored skin strikes a dull, earthy combination with her straight black hair that reaches a little past her shoulders. She has small, almond-shaped green eyes accented by long, thin eyelashes that blend well with her slightly pointed face. Her thin, curved eyebrows lead down to a nose that is quite sharp but not too pointy, with a small bridge. Her mouth is straight, with full lips which she tends to purse slightly out of habit whenever she speaks. She has smooth, rounded cheeks with small dimples which lead down to her rounded chin, giving her face an oval shape that thins as it proceeds downwards. Her height seems to be quite a few inches above five feet.

Her body is thin, with toned muscles and a graceful posture despite the seeming lack of scars and calluses on her arms that come to fighters through the years. She has small breasts, and a lower body that would be almost straight if not for her small, curved hips and a girlish swagger to her walk. Her rather long legs seem to be the most well-trained part of her body, as her muscles seem to be better defined as compared to other areas. Above her right elbow rests a midnight black tribal-looking tattoo of a wolf's head, with its jaw open. It snakes upward on her arm, reaching to her collarbone. Unless dressed in full military uniform, she is usually clothed in dark grey denim trousers and a faded brown bomber jacket over a navy blue tank top. Apart from the standard issue combat boots that she wears, a leg sheath rests upon her right leg, with the hilts of two daggers prominently displayed. Her hair is almost always fixed in a high ponytail, set in place by a thin black band and sometimes her glasses.
-----

<OOC> Edea says, "I am so going to get your bloody pensions."
[OOC] Reno says, "...............................we have pensions?"
<OOC> Scarlet says, ".Shut /up/."
[OOC] Reno looks at Scarlet, "HEY!"
<OOC> Scarlet says, "They get the bullet to the head retirement plan."
<OOC> Rude says, "pensions.."
[OOC] Reno says, "She-- she said we had pensions! C_C"
<OOC> Scarlet says, "Now they're going to unionize."
[OOC] Reno says, ".. Rude"
<OOC> Scarlet says, "Are you happy?"
[OOC] Reno says, "What's a pension?"
<OOC> Rude says, "No clue, but we want four of them. now."
<OOC> Scarlet says, "A pension is is a bullet headed in your direction when you're no longer useful."
[OOC] Reno gets a dictionary.
<OOC> Scarlet gives Reno the Shinra dictionary.
<OOC> Scarlet says, "(One Word: Obey.)"
[OOC] Reno looks suspicious.
<OOC> Scarlet says, "..That's only the first page."
<OOC> Scarlet says, "We also define 'profit'."
<OOC> Scarlet says, "And, of course, 'booze money.'"
<OOC> Scarlet says, "You like this, yes?"
[OOC] Reno says, ".... hmmm."
<OOC> Rude says, "according to this.. a pension is a boarding house or small hotel in Europe"
[OOC] Reno says, "o_o"
[OOC] Reno says, "...WE GET SMALL HOTELS AFTER WE RETIRE?"
<OOC> Rude says, "score."
<OOC> Scarlet says, "'hotel' is another word for 'extra-large coffin', dear."
[OOC] Reno says, "...."
[OOC] Reno hey, extra-large coffin.
[OOC] Reno score.
<OOC> Rude highfives Reno.