Moonlight Lillies

Moonlight Lillies
Date of Scene:	20 January 2013
Location:	A small pond in the Old Kingdom's woods.
Synopsis:	Phantom Thief MARS returns the Dusk Shard to the Judge of Wrath.
Cast of Characters:	Cirra Constantine, Maximilien

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Maximilien has posed:
He'd sent her a message, earlier that night. It had arrived for her with a flower, unsigned, with nicely embossed stationary and a pleasant little flower emblem where a stamp might be. The handwriting was fluid, well-practiced, precise to a tee, controlled and perfect. It had named a time and a place, late in the evening and in the Old Kingdom's French countryside. It couldn't possibly be surprising that he had asked to meet her in the French countryside, although perhaps for someone who had no concept of 'France', it wasn't an association she'd make. Still, it had been very specific about the time and the place, and now it's about five minutes till that time, at that very specific place.

It's a little place; a pool of water right out of a fairy tale, a grove of trees not too deep in the forest, not hard to find at all with just a little bit of work. Above, the moon hangs, dangling in the air and in the water, its pale, majestic reflection broken only every so often by the little insects that land on the still pond's surface.

He had a gift for the dramatic, one had to give him that.

Max is standing there at the water's edge, staring up at the moon. He seems lost in distant thought, navigating through corridors of the mind generally untouched; his eyes are vaguely unfocused, and his smile is wistful and wispy, as though remembering something lost to the mists of time and tide. He leans against his black, jewel-topped cane, there in the moonlight, and he reflects and remembers, and waits for a woman who has captured his imagination - and likely intends to capture him for her country.

Truthfully, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
The only thing Cirra care about is retrieving the Goddess Magicite. However, she is willing to go to great lengths to ensure it's return, such as meeting a criminal, by the water, and under the moon light.

Ick, she thinks. To do this with someone she despises instead of someone she at least finds herself atracted to. Still it was for name of House Solidor, she withstand more humilation then this.

The silver haired Judge arrives on the water's edge, emerging from the trees on the opposite side of the pool, and as promised...

She's wearing a black dress that comes down to her thighs, the black satin like material is indeed, slinky and only thin spaghetti straps over her shoulders to leave them mostly bare. Her hair is loose with no adormnets and pantyhose cover her legs, a pair of modest heels on her feet to complete hte ensamble.

"Do you know how many people stared at me in this thing?"

Maximilien has posed:
Max doesn't reply at first. He just sort of continues staring off at the moon, like an old friend. Maybe it is; he's lived in the night for most of his life, or at least he comes off as having lived in the night for most of his life. It's an old friend; even in a bright white tuxedo, with bright red hair, he's faded into it as easily as he fades into a crowd. He and the night and all its stars are old friends.

Max closes his eyes, his wistful smile a little wider. "Quite a number, I imagine. You are, after all, stunning. Although I wonder how many of them knew your real face. That look of anger on your face - the real you, the furious lawgiver, beautiful like a well-made blade is beautiful, like a tiger is beautiful. I imagine the ones who knew it were the most surprised of all."

Then he turns to look at her, and his eyes remain on hers - solidly on hers, without roaming or roving or wandering, without any of the things that might mark him as less than the gentleman he claims to be. He tucks his cane under his arm. "You did not come here to make conversation, I know." He taps his finger against the cane for a moment. "I will try not to keep you long."

"It was useless to me." His smile turns wry, the corners of his lip twisting upwards, and it no longer meets his eyes. "You already knew that, or I would not have sent you the invitation. But I think you would like confirmation that it is being returned to you, that I did not call you out here merely to admire you. I did not; the Magicite is on my person, and I do not care what you do with it now."

"...thank you," he says after a moment, sounding a bit awkward. "It was a silly request, and I imagine humiliating, but you still kept your word, and that is very rare in even this new world. I...appreciate it."

Cirra Constantine has posed:
"My duty to house Solidor is more important to me then a little humiliation." Besides, she thinks, the rumors of the experiment are far worse then wearing a dress for one evening.

"I'm not here to take compliments." she crosses her arms. Her eyes are locked on Max's, in her case because the eyes give away intent."I am a Judge, they called me hte Judge of Wrath because I do not like to mince words, or play games. Am I capable of fury? Yes, but I only give that to people that deserve it."

Starts walking clockwise around the pond. "You deserved it that night." She continues to walk, it's impossible for the dress to not accentuate the movement. "You'll deserve it tonight if you 've been lying to me."

She stops, a quarter way around the pond from Max, and holds out one hand. "If a Judge does not keep their word then the law of Archadia is made weak, so I keep my word to keep Arcadia strong."

Maximilien has posed:
He doesn't look. Maybe it's more accurate to say he doesn't /let/ himself look. He is, again, the consummate gentleman; impoliteness does not suit him, nor does staring at a woman like a bumbling man off the street. He just keeps his eyes steadily on hers, reading her intentions like a book. There's pride in both their eyes; it's writ large in his, pride in himself and his work and his skill. "What a terrible burden, for a whole country to rest on your shoulders. Does it hurt, to bear so much for so many?"

"Do you hate me?" Max asks after a moment, as he makes his way around to her. He's hardly going to toss the precious regalia of Rabanastre like a baseball, especially over a pond in which it could easily be lost. Nevermind how careless, how incompetent, that would be; she would inevitably blame him, and then try to kill him, and he would probably deserve it, too.

He stops in front of her, looking down at her; he is a good seven inches taller than she is, with a sort of lanky look to him despite his practiced grace.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
There is pride with Cirra, but in greater measure there is duty. She honestly does not care if he stares at her, her mind is fixed on only one thing: The Magicite. To that end she keeps her hand held out as Max approaches, palm up.

"Don't be foolish. Carrying my countrymen is easy, I only have to go forward." She tilts her head down and slightly to side, despite being shorter then Max, he gets the impression of a hawk looking down at some annoying prey. "You're a thief. You've stolen from a protectorate of my country, you've made me look like a fool to my superiors."

"Tell me, what /should/ I think of you?"

Maximilien has posed:
"I do not know what you should think of me, nor do I really want to know what you /should/ think of me. No doubt you /should/ think that I ought to be strung up by my thumbs or locked away in chains for the rest of my life. But..." Max taps his finger against his cane.

"...but a Judge who felt that way, I think, would not have come here in the moonlight in a slinky dress, alone, when she could have brought a force of soldiers to attempt to ensnare me in a trap. I think a Judge who felt that way would have come here armed and armored - and while I know that you are quite /capable/ of incapacitating me...you are, as they say, quite a knockout..." He does not chuckle at his own joke, but he does grin at it. "...I do not think you would have done such a thing if you hated me, really hated me."

He flicks his free hand outward, and the Goddess Magicite sits in it a moment later. "So tell me what you think of me - not what you should think of me, but what you do think of me - and I will return this to you."

"After all, it did me no good." There's a very little hint of bitterness in his voice as he holds the Magicite above her hand, his own still closed tight around it.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
"Actually, I do think you deserve to be locked up in prison." Cirra says flatly. She folds her hand back into her arms. "I'm not here to amuse you, I'm here to get the Magicite back. But..." she takes a half step forward, hands dropping to her sides as she gets within Max's arms reach.

"I don't hate wearing a dress." one hand gripping Max's tuxedo as she gets closer, one leg pressign against Max's as she starts to grin.

And then her free hand takes the switch blade hidden in the band of her stockings and flciks it out just under Max's chin.

"Of course. You'd do well to remember that it's not just kissing me thats dangerous."

Steping back, she puts one hand on hte Magicite in Max's hand.

Maximilien has posed:
"I wouldn't," Max replies calmly as the switchblade presses against his chin; he can feel it dig into the skin, the metal pressing against his jaw, but he doesn't move. The look in his eyes remains unwavering; she could slit his throat now, but there's absolutely zero fear, no concern that she will. Either he lives in his own little world, or he is absolutely convinced that she won't slit his throat. "But I promise you, it is the danger that I find so interesting about you. If you were ordinary - someone who could not match me - I would not care in the slightest how beautiful you are."

Max settles the magicite into her hand gently, closing her hand around it a moment later. "Take it. I am a man of my word; I am not here to toy with you. Do whatever your country wishes you to do with it; throw it in the pond, for all that I care."

"The greatest treasure Archadia has to offer is standing right in front of me, and I intend very much to take it for myself."

"Enjoy your job well done, ma chere. One more question, and then I will leave, and leave you to your night."

"I would like to know your favorite flower."

Cirra Constantine has posed:
Cirra's hand is closed around the magicite and and she takes another step backwards, the knife still held up towards Max. "You are beyond strange." she stares at him flatly. "I am a Judge, my world is the law. Find something likely to return your fancy."

Another step back and she half turns, "to answer your earlier question. I do not condem the man desperatly trying to survive."

She turns and walks bac around the pond as she walks into the trees.

"Lilies."

Maximilien has posed:
"If you were easy to sway, I would not be interested," Max replies cheerfully as she leaves. Then he turns back to staring at the moon, a smile on his face.

Lillies. He certainly wouldn't've thought.

Now that certainly brought back memories.