RP:Third Time's The Charm

Summary; Reginae and Xzavior arrive at Frostmaw to discuss previous negotiations for Alithryian aid with Hildegarde. Who they meet instead is a very snarky Lionel. Reginae and Lionel trade underhanded comments while Xzavior shakes his head throughout their child like tantrums. Peace is won when Lionel hands over an ancient relic of Alithryian history. It extinguishes Reginae's dissatisfaction to reveal her true intent; a passion to fight for her people. They might have more in common than they realize...if they ever learn to get alone. Xzavior saved the day, and will be a necessary ally in the peace talks to come.

Frostmaw Fort Main Room

Reginae sent Xzavior a letter; meet in Frostmaw in the Fort's main room before dusk. As she'd explained last night, she's hoping to reconfirm the previously promised Alliance with Hildegarde before starting other projects to restore Alithrya. The longer it ticks in the back of her mind, the more she feels like a failure. She will not give anyone else this knowledge. It's her sole burden to shoulder. Since Frostmaw is use to the sight of a naga, Reginae doesn't bother traveling in her normal child-sized shape. In hindsight, it might have proven an easier journey in those very small fur lined snow boots and clothes she normally keeps with her. Scales and snow are not the keenest of friends. All visible sources of light indicate the time to meet approaching, leaving her tapping the very tip of her flawlessly white tail against the floor. A guard eyes her, suspiciously. A giant, in full plate mail. Reginae wants to snarl but doesn't. She merely looks away impatient. When Xzavior makes his entrance, she'll approach him and clap him on the back good-naturedly. "About time." How rude of her, he wasn't late. Clearly she's nervous. "Travel go okay?" If he answers, she's not listening. It's not her fault. She hasn't been here in ages. What does she do if the Dragoness refuses her previous pact?! She'll be out years of negotiations...it'll put her in a really rough spot. First Satoshi...now Hildegarde?! Reginae is thinking too far ahead and stressing herself out. Hopefully Xzavior has some words of wisdom to calm her down as they approach the throne room doors because otherwise Regi is going to come off like a huge jerk to the Queen and no alliances will continue.

Xzavior had a much easier time traveling in his naga form it seems then Reginae. More then likely because of his affinity with the element. Fun to have advantages. It's been a while since he had been up in the mountains so he had made sure to take in a bit of the place before he had to leave, he wasn't sure when he'd come back up next. When he finally reached the fort, he smirked a bit when he saw her and took the jab lightheartedly, "Well I'm sorry, but ya can't expect me to make haste up nostalgic cliffs can you?" he teased before saying, "But yes, the travel went fine." taking note of how nervous she was, he tilted his head in sympathy and came over to place an arm on her shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll do fine Sis. If I know miss Queeny half as well as I do, she'll be more then open for anything we have to offer her. Just breath, think and don't make it sound like we're offering anything better then what we can give." He understood her position though. As calm as he was now, he wasn't sure how he'd act in her scales.

Knight-Commander Lionel O’Connor is not Queen Hildegarde the Silver. There is no resemblance between them; even their musculature is drastically different, with the dragon far more hulking than the lithe almost rogue-like human male. Yet with Hildegarde so thoroughly busy, it is the business of the leader of her armies to admit guests and even to treat with them. Dressed as he is, in his regal red uniform and silvery tightly-wrapped vambrace, he is as fashionable as he’ll ever be and as political as he can ever be bothered to appear. This, then, is one thing Lionel and Hildegarde have in common -- neither of them enjoy pomp. “Ser, they’ve arrived. And they make for the throne room. Will you meet them there?” The inquiry hails from an elderly gentleman, a Frost Giant but a dignified and white-haired fellow, bespectacled in all his gargantuan splendor. Lionel shakes his head, waving a slender hand and hopping from the top of his mahogany armoir. Why he’d thought to hop up there in the first place is a question for another tale. “I don’t meet guests in the queen’s chambers. Just ain’t right.” The elderly giant chuckles, “Then I’ll have them brought here posthaste.” Off he goes, out from the Knight-Commander’s quarters and down the hall with great haste surprising for a man his age. He conveys the orders to a stationed guard, who in turn conveys it to the guard nearest her post, who thus scrambles to move between Reginae and her friend mere inches before they’d have reached the double doors to the throne room. “With apologies,” the guard intervenes, “but Frostmaw’s Knight-Commander Lionel would greet you instead. May I arrange for refreshments to be brought there?” Either yes or no, the guard will lead, and they’ll brought down roundabout old stone corridors, spartan-decorated, and into Lionel’s own place of on-site residence. At their arrival, he’ll straighten, tucking his uniform awkwardly, then bow as the late Briar Ku Risu had dutifully taught him. “Frostmaw greets you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” His tone is lilting, princely even -- but there’s a hint of ill-befitting about it, as if an observant fellow will quickly note he’d rather be speaking plainly.

Lionel's Office

Reginae is not pleased, to put it lightly. What is the meaning of all this? Her and Hildegarde are friends and have words in place that should allow court. She’s a dignitary! Who is this Lionel person and why is she meeting with someone seemingly less important? It’s rude. Regi can’t imagine it’s Hildegarde’s fault though...she’s probably very busy and doesn’t know this small human is navigating the important waters of diplomacy with these larger and more capable nagas. Azurite eyes size him up immediately, and find nothing impressive about his stance or attire. He’s overly adorned, like a pet dog. Bowing even. She could have eaten him in one quick motion. The naga woman sighs audibly, turning first to Xzavior before addressing Lionel. “Maybe we should come back, seems we’ve been rerouted to the help.” A snide exhale of air, almost a laugh as she crosses her arms and cocks a brow at the man. “I assume we need to schedule an appointment to see the beloved Queen.” Another sigh of impatience, “Fine. When can we meet with her?” She waits, the stare increasing in intensity until Lionel likely rebuts her accusation and marks himself worthy of conversing. Before she answers him, she’ll turn to Xzavior and silently as his opinion of the situation with her expression.

Xzavior looked over to the guard as he offers the different greeter and to the offer of a drink, he waved the offer aside. He'll stay sober for this meeting. Well, he still would but it's the thought that counts. When they were lead on into the room, Xzavior had taken in a bit of the decorations. He actually hadn't been anywhere around Frostmaw to see what had changed around the place. So far it seems as though it's taken quite a brilliant turn. Keeping his silence, he looked over to Reginae while she answered the knight. He was glad he refused the drink. When she looked back for his opinion, he cleared his throat quietly before leaning in and saying to her, "If you're wanting this alliance, then everyone among Hildegarde's kingdom is to be treated like an extension of her. Especially if they have the right to greet us in place of the queen herself. He hardly looks like a butler now does he?" He honestly never thought he'd find himself giving political advice to someone like Reginae, and yet here he was. Looking over to Lionel he offered an apologetic bow of his head, "The journey here was a bit stressful. But in a way, she is right. We came to talk to the queen. However, I believe you are equally capable of offering some incite for when we get a chance to." Putting a bit of edge behind the word equal as he glanced over to Reginae.

Lionel isn’t the kind of guy who cares much what folks think about him, but just the same, he’ll never resist a good clip toward someone deserving a platter full of it. In his estimation, this meeting hasn’t just gotten off on the wrong foot -- tail, whatever -- it’s already disappointed him. “I hadn’t expected this,” he observes, tapping his chin as he seems almost to wander around his own confines. “The help here is limited, I’ll admit. We tend to march to our drum sometimes.” He stiffens his legs in a mock march, arms now tightly to his sides. In his acting, he appears like he’s dangled by a string, the proverbial puppet to unseen puppeteers. “But by all means, I hear ya. The middleman, nefarious paper-pushing middleman. No story ever paints them in vivid hues, right?” He shrugs, gesturing to the stacks of parchment on his desk. “I’m sure the queen will have time for you sometime in the next several days. There’s an inn downtown, but I’m obligated, feeble as I am, to suggest you stay at the fort free of charge. Hear-tell you get along famously with her, which tells me you’re good people, no matter the whole ‘snark week’ fad you’ve got goin’ on. Which makes me your humble, happy fellow, ever-glad to discuss matters of state if you should -happen- to find me worthy.” Another bow, this time thrice as exaggerated as the first one. “We could get stuff knocked out in ten minutes and a round of drinks, or you can wait. I’ve got an army to run, six campaigns to plan, a guild to teach, and a kitten. I don’t mind either way.” It’s only now that Xzavior’s calming words are heard. With a blink, he glances, mulling over the naga appreciably. “You, I like.”

Reginae has to stifle the urge to roll her eyes through the back of her skull. All this talk of equality is all fine and good but she has not reason to believe this man to be worthy. He’s not wearing any sort of mail, carrying any weapon of renown or even replying with any sort of fire. He’s meek. And that’s all there is to it until she sees otherwise. But...there is Hildegarde to consider. The Dragoness is nothing if not resourceful, and good natured. She wouldn’t put a mouse of a man in charge if he didn't’ have some redeemable quality. Maybe he was a decent cook. Oh no, she’d been wrong. He appears to just be good at paperwork and...owning a kitten. A pet with a pet? This was insanity. She grits her fangs and tries to force the weakest of smiles on Xzavior’s suggestion. “Forgive my...tongue.” She said, like it pains her to do so. “You would be the third representative I’ve met with and honestly I’m quite tired of explaining myself and my position. You understand.” Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t her problem until it was. Who was he to call them ‘people’? “We are -naga-.” Emphasis on the naga bit. Was he blind? “And I have an agreement with Hildegarde in the way of an alliance.” As she says ‘alliance’, her fangs show just a tad through her snarky lips. Wisps of snow white hair float drift against her cheeks as she moved forward to bend down and look Lionel over face to face. It might appear threatening, but she has no intention of eating him. Those lacy garments wouldn’t digest. The slits in her optics narrow, nostrils flaring. “I remember you, Knight.” She says, pulling back to sit atop her carefully constructed coil pile. “You are the hasty man that ran into the Throne room to plead your loyalty to Hildegarde a while ago.” Silently, she continues regarding him. “Has she told you of our alliance? I came to fill out the final...forms or whatever it is I need to do. Alithrya is in desperate need of reconstruction. My nagas can’t wait forever. You understand.” Alithrya was war torn, in bad repair. Barely inhabited or inhabitable. “I made a promise I fully intend to keep. I’ve done my share, and I’m calling the favor back in now. Can you assist with these matters?” Her tone is still fierce but it no longer sounds like a personal attack when she speaks to him. It’s more like a peeved mother who's found her children are not well. She’ll do what she has to as long as they are taken care of. “I am Reginae. This is Xzavior, my brother.”

Xzavior had kept a rather calm look about him when Lionel went about his jests and rather pointed jabs at Reginae. Gods he was glad he had a knack for patience. This thing would have gone to shambles at the gates with no chance of repair. Even then he was worried that the two would be at eachother's throat. After Lionel finally stopped to hear what he had to say, Xzavior made a point to say casually with a light shake of his head, "An eye for an eye, people." Not that he was saying things were even. Quite the opposite. When Reginae started to come back he looked over through the corner of his eyes and listened to everything she said and did. After a moment placing the end of his tail close to hers, as though it was there just because of the way he held himself, and with every time she did something that he felt wasn't befitting for someone representing her kingdom, would get cold against her scales. After she had shifted her focus to the task at hand and away from the banter, he quietly flicked his tail away. Offering a respectable bow in response to his introduction.

Lionel appears nonplussed. The fangs, the fire, these early remarks of Reginae’s don’t seem to shake him in the slightest. The Catalian as he flops down into his chair, his closed fist holding his chin upright. He’s lithe, agile in his every motion. No armor is visible anywhere in his quarters, nor is his fabled blade anywhere in sight. But there’s a driving force in his azure eyes, whether Reginae will see it or not -- but if she should, she’ll certainly recognize that something has changed in the man since their arrival. He’s running a myriad of calculations in that mind of his. When the naga remarks of her memory, Lionel, once more, does not react save for a lofted brow and a fast-forming smile. It’s easy, that smile, and he fetches a goblet’s worth of lush red wine. He sets it down, untouched, glancing first to the quieter of the pair. “Good to meet you, Xzavior. The name’s Lionel.” Formal speech has been dispensed permanently, it appears. To what aim? Now his burning blue eyes are back to Reginae. “I’m aware of the alliance. Frostmaw appreciates this continued friendship. There are no forms for this stuff, thank the gods or whoever else is watching over me. Tell me anything further you wish me to repeat to the queen, and expect correspondence very shortly. I’m not making any executive calls, but I don’t see her saying no. As for the here and now, I have no qualms sending soldiers, stonemasons, whatever-the-heck, wherever you need them. Except to war.

Reginae huffs, clearly offended but makes no remark to the fact. Maybe Xzavior had more of a place here than she did. This is why she preferred speaking with Hildegarde. She was understanding and warm. This man was cold, distasteful. His mannerisms all over the place. He has no regard for her suffering. An entire race on the brink of extinction but what does he care? Oh? Was this because she’d been stuffy? How typical of a human to react this way. Useless and ungrateful...She’d even tried to bridge the gap with some background information on the situation only to be met with this so called ‘ intense gaze’. What a nightmare. She turns her back to Lionel momentarily, giving Xzavior a private ‘Do you see what I mean about humans?!’ look before turning back to cooly reply. This man was clearly heartless. No appreciate was shown in his words or regards to her. No appreciation for her situation. He was riddled with his own pompous self importance clearly. It’s naga bias! “Thank you.” She says, simply in a flat tone, devoid of snark. Much as she wanted to call him out on his attitude, as he’d done with her. Reginae attributes her sensibility to just being a better all around creature. Really Xzavior was better than either of them. He was the one remaining cool. She clears her throat, wading through the silence. “Is Pilar still in residence here?” This question was out of nowhere. “We need only hands that can repair. No military forces are required.” The last thing they needed was to march a pack of soldiers through Alithryian tunnels. Who knows what the Vampires would think...Much less Larket.

Xzavior realized something after hearing the name and looked at the man with... something. He was the man that nearly killed Valen. He wasn't angry, he couldn't exactly flip his standings right here and now, but not just that, he didn't know just how to react. "Likewise." Was all he'd say. There wasn't anything else he could say. The knight's statement of how he'd help with whatever they needed besides war drove even more curiosity through him. Was he feeling regret for having been part of the war with Larket? Strange... but understandable. When he got the remark from Reginae he acted as though he hadn't heard it whilst silently picturing himself smacking the both of them upside the head. If he didnt know any better, he would have thought himself in a room with two squabbling children. When she asked for Pilar it was her turn to get a curious look before saying to her, "Perhaps we can still use the troops. We're going to need all the help we can in repairing the city and soldiers don't have to be in uniform for masonry work. However, guards would also be good to have to make sure the progress goes unhindered during these chaotic times." Thinking of everything in every light.

Lionel merely nods when asked after Pilar. “Yes, I believe so.” Everything about this woman has rubbed him the wrong way, but he’s baselessly unaware of her own perceptions toward him. In his analysis, Reginae’s harsh arrogance seems at-odds with the plight of her people, and he’s deduced her as a potential part of her own problem. No one in his experience behaves as she has yet genuinely worries selflessly. Yet therein lies the rub: no one in his experience has been naga. Yet he is well-acquainted with the hardship of Alithyra, and in a quick-footed step wayward of his seat, the Catalian walks to the armoire he’d previously sat-upon, swings it open, and fetches a lacquer box from the topmost shelf. Unsealing it, he places it down upon the desk, sliding it forward. Half-wrapped in crimson plush, a mosaic fragment so old its existence seems almost to defy time itself. Beautifully engraved and lavishly colored, three old gods stand beneath naga of a bygone era, saurian and dwarven beings downcast in a dim background. The nagas are presented in a superior fashion, and one of them seems almost to possess a tail which spirals back inward upon itself, the never-ending serpent. Abruptly, Lionel’s countenance has shifted. He seems grim, and his words possess neither bite nor pride. “It’s believed to be a piece of your temples from before Q’na’s fateful act. It’s yours now, if you’ll take it. Seems to me, the image is precisely the sort of rallying cry a beleaguered race -- any race -- could use.” He’s not wrong, either. The art depicts naga of grace, supremacy, but most of all, resilience. “I lost my country. There aren’t many of us left. I don’t respond well when anyone seeks to repeat that sort of terror to any other country. Doesn’t really matter whether you and I get along famously,” he notes, but not dryly. When next he speaks, his tone is confident, crisp, courageous. “What matters is that I do everything in my power to reverse the tide of misfortune that others have thrust upon the naga. Innocent lives are being culled, and I won’t allow that. You have my word, you have my sword, and any enemies of yours are enemies of mine.” It’s all so sudden. Yet there can be no mistaking its sincerity. At once, this previously whimsical person is returned to the declaratory conduct of the so-called Hero of Hellfire. A silence pulses over the proceedings. In that silence, he returns to Xzavior’s gaze yet again. “Whatever you need,” he repeats. “Formal, realm-level politics will always require the queen, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Frostmaw’s hers, always. But she’ll hear this.”

Reginae had been on the edge of storming out when Xzavior mentions they just need bodies. Guards, stoneworks, anything. She doesn’t entirely agree. “If we walk in there with a flood of Frost Giants and Humans, it’ll be seen as some kind of siege…” She begins, trying to explain her assumed view of the public opinion when Lionel starts shuffling around in some wooden chest to bring something out between them. Reginae can feel it’s importance before Lionel completely unveils it. She’s pulling Xzavior beside her to stand close to the ashen human and look at what’s in his hands. A mosaic...she remembered this. A piece of a larger puzzle that described in detailed morals their creation and relationship with Q’na. The piece next to this would show Amaroth as he blessed them with cunning. It had been etched into her memory so long ago, now excavated and placed in pale hands beside her. Everything combative about the woman melts away. Her posture, her tone...it’s all even, remorseful. Dripping with regret and the powerless nature leading a broken city brings. All the naga need is hope...and some fleshy human handed it to her in the form of some harsh words and piece of history. Her lithe humanoid digits tremble as she touches the fragment. A sigh of disbelief. It’s solid. A real thing. Here, and part of this time. “All I care about...is seeing the end of their abuse. The naga have suffered too long at the hands of those that created us and those that saw fit to bring us back.” Of course she meant Vuryal. How he’d stripped the city for his war, tossing them aside once he’d drained all physical value in his plans. Her voice breaks. It’s tender, and low. All former rage bled through her scales and deeper into the floorboards and stone. “It’s beautiful…” A whisper, while she sets the piece carefully back on the desk and it’s former wrappings. Reginae remembered the motions. Knew all the warrior words that should be said. It didn’t matter. Her hand extends, grasping Lionel’s free forearm with tense but friendly pressure. Her face has changed entirely, as if this small act won over her favor. The naga can now see why Hildegarde might have this man in charge. He’s not forgiven his harsher words earlier but then neither is she. And she certainly isn’t asking for forgiveness. What’s done is done. All there is now to do is make it right. The past is past. “Thank you.” Her voice is robust, full and proud. Whatever she’s saying now, she means it wholeheartedly. “We’ll await your word and stay a few evenings while things are arranged. I have a few citizens to visit since we’ve come all this way anyway.” A pause, while she considers him. “I misjudged you.” As much of an apology as Lionel O’Connor will ever get out of the proud naga. As much of an apology as she’d give anyone about anything. With that, she’ll wrap up the tile and carry it close, pressed against her robes for safe keeping while she awaited Xzavior’s company at the door. “Until next we meet, Commander.”

Xzavior gave a curious look to the chest as Lionel went to pull it out. Furrowing his brows a bit trying to figure out what it was while being dragged. When it was finally shown, the naga slowly gaining a smile. The first time he actually shown any emotion after stepping through the castle gates. Giving Reginae a gentle pat after she set it down he looked back up to Lionel with a slight smirk. The man sure knew how to put on a show, he'll give him that. Giving thought on the whole factor of how things would look of he got the help here, he was already thinking of ways they could possibly get some without causing an issue. After a moment, when Reginae went to walk away, Xzavior gave a dip of his head before saying, "Perhaps later we can talk about less stressful things." before making his way over to Reginae and said in a more teasing manner, "You forgot to think, sister."