Soren's Call.

[Anonymous]

The warm light of the sun illuminated the room at the peak of the Citadel, the rays bathing the youthful man at the head of the room in light. Resting on one knee, his face was facing the floor, and his eyes were closed in a loose look of thought. Behind him, six translucent wings were tucked into his back, the sun giving them a striking shade of lavender. To an onlooker, it would appear as if it were a radiant angel of some god, but the man was possibly the farthest thing from anyone’s idea of a merciful deity.

The man stood up slowly, the wings on his back slowly growing closer to magenta in color, and fading into purple, then black. The top and bottom sets began to grow into the center wings, becoming solid and adopting the feathery look characteristic of the traditional outlook of an angel. Finally, they faded away altogether, and the man opened his eyes. With a glance to the small table at his right, a magnificent chessboard with unusual pieces, Soren Tyrinthre picked up a pawn, staring at it thoughtfully.

The board’s pieces had already been moved on both sides, looking as if a game was taking place between two friendly rivals. Soren tossed the pawn into his other hand, and placed it down next to a rook. The rook was unusual, in that it had the crest of the zodiac sign of Libra engraved into the side. The pawn was placed diagonally from the “Libra”, with another pawn poised to strike. “With this, the first strike is made against the opponent, and the pace of the match is set. Then the game truly begins, each side seeking their complete victory, to crush all of the opponent’s pieces until only the king remains.” Soren nodded, picking up another pawn. His eyes grew sharp, and he threw the pawn at the double doors to the entrance of the room, a streak of black indiscernible to almost all.  “Wouldn’t you agree, Valmont?”

“Hmmm.” The cold voice of Valmont answered. He stepped into the room fully, the doors closing behind him. A small stream of smoke emerged from his gloved hand, the still smoking pawn clenched in his closed fist. “You see me as just a pawn? I would have liked bishop at the very least.” Valmont’s cruel smile gave him an almost maniacal appearance, and he sent the pawn into the air, levitating it with the physic abilities present in all pilots. “Pawns are reserved for the weak and expendable.” Valmont returned the piece to the board, resting it where it formerly was positioned. “And I don’t classify myself in either of those respects.”

Soren did not reply, but turned to face Valmont and the room. A gigantic conference table took up most of the room, every seat already set to accommodate the lifeforms that would occupy them. On either wall perpendicular to the door, three large tapestrys flowed down the wall. Each was emblazoned with an emblem of the earth, the landmasses colored magenta, and the water now black. The earth sat in the claw of a dragon, with golden strands spreading across the planet from the black nail. And slowly, the earth would be faithful to that emblem. The network would cover all, and the earth would belong to Aedolis and it’s dragons, tightly in it’s grip, set to be improved upon and recreated. Soren took a seat at the head of the table, and motioned for Valmont to take his, with the other Cant Royal. Valmont however, took a seat next to the door, placing his feet on the table.

“You are aware that your demands to Seruna aren’t going to be considered, aren’t you?” Valmont’s question echoed across the empty room. Soren’s answer was simple.

“I’m aware.” His face retained no emotion as he spoke, as if the matter were not war, but a triviality,  the choice bearing no more importance than between two beverages he might have for a meal. “Seruna will undoubtably move against us, and I’m sure that Edanith will meddle in this as well. But Libra is at quite the advantageous point in space, and it will make an excellent way station for our forces in our move to conquer Mars and space. As an added bonus, the large hit to Seruna will be threefold, with a military blow, and economical blow, and a social blow. We even manage to harm Edanith in the process. This farce of a declaration is just a politically acceptable insult.”

“And our enemies on Earth? I, of course, am speaking of Teinar. Is it wise to launch an attack with an unpredictable element under our feet?” Valmont replied.

“Irrelevant. Teinar, as much as it would like to consider itself a power on this planet, is nothing more than a group of rabble with pistols and blasting powder. Less than a tenth of our full forces would be enough to stop any meaningful attack they could wag upon us. The path is paved for the ascension of the Glory of Aedolis. Now, give me the report on our forces in space. That is why I called you here.” Soren’s eyes gave Valmont a look of disapproval. The Cant Royal straightened his back, returning to his feet.

“Approximately 88% of the Seruna-Libra force is in place. We have enough to garner the appearance of an invasion fleet, with the main fleet camouflaged near the Titan. We’ve even got them off the radar of the antiquated sensors in the belt, so their location is secure. After your declaration, the predicted spike of departures occurred, and there should be few civilian and independent craft onboard. Well below the margin of acceptable losses. The remainder of our force is departing as we speak, and we’ve got various pilots taking command.”

Soren moved the knight on the chessboard to a spot one move away from taking the Libra-dubbed rook. He moved three pawns with Edanith colors forward, as if they were to support Libra. “Excellent. What’s the flagship in command of the main fleet?” Valmont waved a holopad into the air, data rushing through the screen.

“The Imperial Dreadnaught Renovatio.”

“Ah. Excellent.” Soren’s soft voice had a hint of satisfaction to it as he moved a bishop one space. “That is all I needed of you then. Now, put out the call for all pilots currently in the city to report here, and for the others to advance according to the orders of the fleet.” Soren’s eyes met Valmont’s, and a slight smile appeared on his face, a smile of a man having fun. “And Valmont?” The iliac haired Pilot felt his heart grow cold, an unusual sensation for one so self-assured.

A bolt of pain unlike anything Valmont had ever experienced raced through his body, as if he were enduring the deaths of a thousand men and their simultaneous rebirth. His breathless cry of agony barely acchieved vocalization as he dropped to his knees, falling to the floor. His body spasmed violently, and then he felt nothing. The pain stopped as quickly as it had come, but he felt it would haunt him for hours, as if he’d been immersed in Hell for the most minute measurement of time. Soren’s lighthearted voice met his ears, a haunting order that burrowed past the pain into his very soul.

"Never question another thing I do again.”

Valmont rose to his feet, blind hatred in his eyes. Every muscle, every nerve, every fiber of his being told him to leap forward and eliminate the source of that misery, but the look in Soren’s merciless eyes sent every signal his body told him down the soles of his feet, and with a bow, he turned and left the room. Soren turned back to his chessboard, lost in his own reverie.

“Soon all the remaining pilots will be here to be briefed. I wonder then, will the first act in this play be our rise to glory? Or will we be cast aside and forgotten, our ambitions lost to the whims of fate.”

[Anonymous]

When Fala had heard that the Pilots had been summoned, she'd initially bristled at the mere thought- she could not just be called in and summoned like some sort of servant! As such, she'd gone promptly in the other direction, completely ignoring the message until she'd heard the most important fact of all... one that left her swearing, even as she spun on her heel to briskly walk towards the meeting room. Had she'd known who had summoned her, she wouldn't have dared to walk in the other direction. As it was, however, she was left hoping that she wasn't the last one present for the meeting.

It was never good to leave a man of Soren's standing waiting for too long. To be punctual was to be too late- one was usually expected to be there earlier than the appointed time, so that the one who hosted the briefing would not have to wait for the stragglers that might stream in. No, those in power were never assumed to have any patience at all.

Which made the late information even more infuriating- it was like being ordered to step back in time a few days to pick up a package that didn't make its destination. Not only was it impossible, but it was pretty much important enough that punishment awaited those that failed to accomplish it. Clutching her gloved hands tightly into fists, the green-haired Pilot snarled at passers-by in the halls leading to the elevator in the Citadel, urging them to get out of her way- quickly- before her temper did it for them. Fear made her nervous... but more than that, the lack of control was what truly got to her.

Moving one hand up, she carefully fixed the ruby visor onto her eyes, feeling the familiar click as the ports plugged into her temples. Her vision now flooded in the familiar red hue, she felt a bit more at ease knowing that her eyes would be harder to read behind the crystalline glass. Even if they were somehow broken in the upcoming meeting, it mattered not... Jorinth had a spare. He always did- he took such good care of her, after all.

The feeling of being without her Dragon kicked in, as well, and she suddenly felt slightly ill without her companion backing her up. Moving towards the elevators, which were large enough to hold one of their Dragons, she hastily smashed her fist into the button (as if more force would summon it faster) as she began to pace like a wild beast before it. Though no more than thirty seconds passed, it felt like an eternity to the clearly aggravated and fearful Pilot that snarled before it. Quickly inputting her information and ushering the box towards the uppermost level, she continued her irritated pacing even as the elevator shuddered and came to an abrupt stop.

No matter how light the upper stories looked, the dark chill in her gut refused to vanish.

Carefully placing one foot before the other, she quickly worked up foolhardy courage within her as she forced herself forward. After all, without false arrogance, she would have never gotten herself to budge an inch, but it had to be done. Breaking almost into a run by the time she'd reached the door, she could scarcely stop herself before, recognizing Valmont's form, she ceased her forward momentum.

He looked dreadful- ragged, pained, and most of all... angry.

"The hell happened to you?" The question came out scarcely as a whisper as she moved past him, determined not to look back as she moved into the room, awaiting Soren's words.

[Rhi-Rhi]

As soon as she'd heard the call, Kota had made a bee-line for the Citadel. Reluctant as she'd been to leave the club and the...new friends she'd made, she also knew better than to ignore orders for too long, and it wasn't like she'd want to ignore them, anyway. A summons could mean either one of two things: one, it was something super important and exciting and she'd actually get to do something productive and bad-ass like plugging into The Network, hopping onto Min, and riding off into battle, or it was...something stupid and boring. Like...she didn't know, battle tactics or something like that. Bleh. Maybe something about the state of the city, economics and whatnot.

Like she cared about that crap.

Heading into the Citadel, she made her way over toward the elevator, punched the up arrow, and tapped a booted foot on the ground as she waited for familiar ding and opening doors. The elevator was empty when it finally came, and she stepped inside, entered her information, and pulled out a fresh cigarette as it made its way up to the top. She held it between her lips, unlit, and waited for the elevator to come to a stop at the top.

It stopped early, though, and the doors opened to admit another Pilot she recognized, Gabriel. He gave her a disapproving frown as the doors slid shut behind him, but said nothing. If she decided to smoke and got busted, that was her problem.

The elevator stopped again, and the doors slid open with a ding. But as Gabriel went to step out into the hall, Kota roughly shoulder-checked him so she could get out first. "Watch it!" she snapped as she went past, fumbling in her pocket for her lighter, eager to get a quick fix in before she entered the conference room. Gabriel only rolled his eyes, rubbed his bruised shoulder--the woman was more metal than she was flesh, even if it was hard to tell since she dressed quite thoroughly--and walked ahead of her as she paced in the hall, puffing at her cigarette and stinking the place up.

Sometimes he fantasized about the sprinkler system going off on her.

For now, though, he headed toward the proper room, blinking when he saw Valmont outside the door looking...well, looking like shit. He spared "slimy tentacle boy" only a passing glance, though, before he moved into the room to find that Fala was already there. Whatever had happened, he didn't think it was his business.

Kota came in a few seconds after he did, and Gabriel sniffed loudly as the smell of cigarettes followed her even though she no longer had one. God he hated that smell. Freakin' woman reeked.

"You called, boss?" Kota asked with a smile as she walked by Fala and Gabriel to take a seat at the table, in the proper place for Pilots of her status--which was bottom-of-the-food-chain status, basically. She leaned forward on with her elbows on the table. "So, what's up?"

[Anonymous]

Valmont spared only a psychic growl to Fala as she passed, the calm and cool nuances that he prided himself on forgotten. <Nothing. I overstepped myself.> With that ineloquent snarl, Valmont stepped haphazardly to the elevator, his body not responding as quickly as he wanted it to. He slammed his hand on the button for the ground floor, and vanished from the top floor.

Meanwhile, Soren sat at the head of the table, his face devoid of emotion. He waved his hand slowly, and the entrance to the grand conference room flowed together and sealed themselves closed. Behind Soren, the glass in the windows grew hazy, the glass slowly losing its transparency until no light entered the room. In the darkness of the room, a terminal came to life infront of the Cant Imperial, and the image of the space station Libra came to life in the center of the room.

"Now, I'll begin. Again." The word expressed a hint of displeasure, but with a force that denied any excuses. He expected that he'd be here all day, with pilots stranded in different areas of the city, but it was a minor irritant to repeat himself. "What you are now viewing is the space station Libra in it's current orbit." The hologram began to scale down, orbiting around the conference room. As the terminal in front of Soren flickered, several small dots began to increase in size and take shape, until they were recognizable as one of Aedolis' star fleets. "This is our main force, here, camoflaged behind the satelite Titan, and that's where you will be going, to assist." The planet Saturn then appeared in the middle of the room, with Libra, and the fleet around Aedolis taking appropiate scale around it.

"Now, our decoy fleet is currently around Tethys, here." The natural satelite Tethys changed color, becoming highlighted in white. "You three are going to assist the decoy fleet. If and when we encounter defensive measures, the decoy fleets operation is changed to boarding and seizing the station's control, and the main fleet will engage and destroy the enemies. It's a simple and stable plan."

The holograms above the pilots disappeared, and a mid-sized assault ship materialized above the the table. "As of now, I'm placing you three in the same unit onboard this ship. Pilot Gabriel, you shall be the commanding officer onboard. Pilots Fala and Kota, you are to support Pilot Gabriel. You three will be the only pilots onboard this ship. Understand that your rank places you in charge of the ship, but you are still to follow the orders of your respective commanders. You will be briefed more on that subject upon arriving at your destination around Tethys. The ship, along with the others, will be linked via a virtual network. This should settle your addictions, as well as provide an envirionment far easier for you to work in." After these statements, the holograms in the room dissolved. The lights resumed illuminating the room, and the windows allowed light to pass through again.

"Your dragons are to accompany you in this battle, I expect that they will be useful in some way." Soren stood, signalling the end of the briefing. "I'll now take questions if you need them on the objective on the mission, but make them brief. You've five hours before deployment. Any questions as to the ship will be dealt with upon your departure, and questions on the battle would best be left to the fleet." Soren felt that the explanation should give them all the information that they needed, but questioning did settle the minds of the restless.

[Rhi-Rhi]

Kota hardly appeared to be listening as Soren briefed them, twirling a strand of purple-black hair around her finger and giving a nod here and there to show that she was paying attention. She tapped a foot anxiously under the table. Yeah, yeah, blah blah, she just wanted to get on with it! She kept her mind open to Min, letting the Dragon listen in on the briefing, and winced when she felt the Dragon's disapproval course through her. Not because of the mission, but because of her impatience.

Like she could help it! But she still felt almost scolded, even though she hadn't been directly reprimanded--yet--and she quickly tried to calm her mind and focus.

That failed.

No sooner had Soren finished his briefing and opened it up for questions than a thread of panic shot through her, an emotion she felt mirrored in Min until she wasn't sure where her thoughts ended and Min's began--or maybe it was the other way around. A chill raced down her spine, small goosebumps raising on her arms, and suddenly the alarm she felt faded and turned into anger. That was Min.

Providence was dead.

"Shit!" Gabriel breathed, massaging his temples and quickly blocking Siren from his mind. The flood of emotions he felt from his own Dragon was overwhelming, and he didn't need to deal with those while he had his own thoughts to concern himself with. How the fuck did that happen? Providence just...died? But Dragons didn't do that! They didn't just die! They lived forever, time just wasn't a factor, but the logs revealed no evidence of foul play...

Something wasn't right.

Then, a bit belated, an even more horrifying thought struck him. Oh fuck! Providence was Temple's Dragon! What about Temple? If he was still alive, that was a hell of a distance away...shit, shit, shit...

No. He couldn't do anything about it right now. He'd been given his objective, and he had to focus on only that. He bit his lip and closed his eyes. Just don't think about it right now. Now wasn't the time to panic.

Drawing in a deep breath and smoothing his features back into the stoic expression so commonly associated with Pilots, Gabriel straightened himself and gave a salute. "Understood, sir. I've no questions," he said, before turning to leave the room and get ready. Kota scooted her chair back, stood, and gave a hasty salute as well before leaving with Gabriel, oddly silent for once. It wouldn't take long to prepare, and she really wanted to see Min now.

Something will be done about Temple and Providence, won't it, sir? Gabriel asked Soren as he headed to his quarters. And then a thought suddenly struck him. He'd never heard of it happening before, but...come to think of it, Providence had been one of the latest models.

Could it have been a malfunction?

[Whoo, hope this doesn't suck. Written while on drowsy-inducing medication. Dx]

[Anonymous]

Irritations. That's all these dragons were. He'd needed his soldiers to be perfectly focused, their minds unclouded by anything other than the mission that awaited them. But already, their resolve was shaken, and the look in their eyes turned to their dragons for comfort.

<<Vangilus, what do you know? What do the dragons know about the death of their own?>>

Silence was his only reply. Either the dragons didn't know, or knew and didn't want him to know about it. Either way, it was pointless, and had nothing to do with the orders he'd been given. But they'd need their edge back.

"Hold. I'm going to amend my orders. You now recieve an additional fifteen minutes. Immerse yourselves in the network during this time. I want all pilots at the top of their game. I'm not ruling out any kind of outside attack at this juncture. Dive, harden your resolve, and then put your feelings into conquering Seruna." Soren's ended his remarks then, signalling that they may leave.

<<Cant Royal Roman Rosales has been given free leave to investigate the death of Providence and its pilot. But the condition and stability of Temple Rosales is unknown. Nothing can be done for him until Roman reports, and nothing can be done for a dead dragon. Focus on your mission.>>

How interesting, another dead dragon. Soren's curiosity increased. Perhaps they're artifical immortality was finally fading. Soren hid that thought from Vangilus carefully, and put it away in his mind. Seruna was the first worry of business. This small skirmish with Libra would be the spark that would begin his conquest.

[Anonymous]

When Valmont had snarled at her, apprehension promptly disappeared, replaced with a sudden and familiar urge to slam her fist in his face. Shaking it off as she entered the room, she donned her mask of indifference and listened to the report with open ears, taking in all of the information with a scowl until she heard the inclusion of the word 'Dragons'.

She would be able to see Jorinth again- and after so long! She could scarcely contain her eagerness to see her companion, but regardless kept as much focus as she could on the mission at hand. Though she scowled when she realized she was going to be serving as mere backup, Fala kept her mouth shut, pursing her lips and refusing to speak against the matter. It wasn't her choice, after all- the decision had been made.

As he concluded his speech, she bowed her head slightly, remaining silent until Gabriel's subdued hiss caught her attention. One of her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing, keeping her curious and irritated eyes behind her ruby visor and refusing to give off nonverbal cues from them.

Jorinth had sent her nothing. Clearly he hadn't thought the situation to be all that dire- after all, he had never been particularly close to others of his kindred, and thus did not mourn its death. But with this lack of communication came a lack of knowledge for his Pilot... but clearly he didn't believe that she needed to know about it, either.

Such was their dysfunctional relationship, where Jorinth controlled not only the Network and mental contact, but information, as well.

Unperturbed by the unknown death of Providence, Fala promptly turned on her heel and left the room, moving towards where she knew her Dragon was kept. She ached for something... some sort of contact. While away from Jorinth, she'd resisted the overpowering urge to run to any man who would take her, resisted the temptation to feel someone else's company while her dragon was away for maintenance. For she was loyal, however little she was to men, to her Dragon.

Pushing past the workers that had just released him from his physicals, Fala walked determinedly towards her cohort, looking up at him with a sense of longing before allowing herself to relax, letting him do as he pleased. Picking her up as if she was nothing more than a doll, Jorinth placed her gently within the jewel-like compartment in his breast, feeling her ports connect to the wires within as he felt his Pilot fledgling connect to the Network.

I missed you, Jorinth. Though she sent no words, her emotions were more than enough to communicate to him. He likewise thrummed gently in her mind, sending her an emotional cue, as well.

Welcome back, pet.