Did you Foretell t h i s // Alexandre

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Silvine Vilani
Palamecia

[M:0:0:]

Posts: 18

Did you Foretell t h i s // Alexandre Sept 24, 2011 20:16:19 GMT -5

Post by Silvine Vilani on Sept 24, 2011 20:16:19 GMT -5

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It hurt to remember. Silvine was currently sitting next to the castle wall of Alexandria, trying to gather his thoughts. The first thing he realized was his memory was...either gone, or forgotten. He ruled out a terrible fall for head injury would have been needed and the splitting headache only erupted when he tried to remember. Amnesia was out of the question, not even a small case of it.

Thus, his memory was forcefully taken. Well, at least they were kind enough to leave him with the only skill he was good at. Soren stood up, brushing his hair from his face and looked around. He immediately was noticeable. Meaning, he happened to have landed in a place where his robes were odd. First thing he needed to do, was a change of wardrobe.

However...he soon changed his mind. No money, plus something was...stale in the air. No, a kingdom grieving; he had experienced this once. He needed to know. The plan was pushed farther from his mind when he wasn't looked upon with suspicion. It seemed like he was definitely not an Archadian. Interested, the tactician would seek sources to learn exactly what was up with this country.

It was refreshing to see that information was so loosely given.

-----

It had been a few hours as he tirelessly worked. He had gathered much information, even a map of this continent as well as the others. He found out much about Alexandria's history, who ran the place, as well as it's tension between it and Archades. This was a prime working place for Silvine, but the biggest question had yet been solved.

Would he side? No, he would sell. What better place would it be than Alexandria? However, he had not the tools nor all the information required in Alexandria; he needed to move to Archades, and relatively quick. If war was coming, he needed to be there before it started. He also needed to formulate a plan. From what he heard, the more likely of the two rulers he needed to speak to was Kuja.

Zidane seemed...to lack the want for war. It would hinder his plan of selling information. The commons people told him so much, that Silvine was able to put two and two together. However, then he picked up new information. Silvine's body almost frozen at this information. He had been talking to the head librarian of Alexandria's grand library and he happened to mention a certain individual.

He wouldn't need anymore information from the librarian. He knew where the other would be, seeing how the castle was pretty much untouchable. It was the last place Silvine was going to visit (it would have been his first, but at the time a fight had started) - the local pub. Why did the strategist think so? The Prodigy was not the easiest person to read, but he certainly was predictable in movements.

He was always a step ahead, no matter what.

-------

The mess had been cleaned. Fairly quick, he might have added. Kuja's men were not the brightest, but they laid down the law and the bar keep was equally interested to keep business. There was little evidence anything happened only hours before, though Silvine noted subtle hints only someone like him could notice. The little details counted, and Silvine needed those.

It took him somewhat longer than expected to find him; he noted that he had a change of wardrobe. 'Of course he did.' He mused to himself. After all, his robes were...much more noticeable than his. And he also wasn't branded as a traitor, not on the bad side of any kind of nobility. But Silvine barely allowed Alexandre to realize someone was staring behind him, before the other approached.

"Alastair Crevan Richter." His voice was soft, as not to alert the bar keep as Silvine approached from behind the man, then swerving to take the seat next to him. His voice may be soft, but he knew the other would have heard him, especially noting his reaction. That name should be unknown to anyone around here...which led to a simple conclusion.

The tactician had found his mark.

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Alastair "Alexandre" Kaiser
Palamecia

Incredulous Apostate[M:0:0:]

Posts: 20

Did you Foretell t h i s // Alexandre Sept 25, 2011 0:48:24 GMT -5

Post by Alastair "Alexandre" Kaiser on Sept 25, 2011 0:48:24 GMT -5

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A small stage held two figures, a male violinist and a female singer. The ruby lips of the blonde glistened in the dull light, her hands trailing down her midriff before hugging herself at her hips. A sign the woman was lost within the melody of her own lyrics; drifting away into her own world. An angelic voice softly filled the tavern, soothing weary travelers along with the dark liquids they consumed. ”Don’t speak. I know what you’re thinking and I don’t need your reasons. Don’t tell me cause it hurts…” The song would carry on, but to one man it’d fall on deaf ears.

Alastair – under the alias of Alexandre – sat at the bar. Both porcelain hands clasped around a half emptied glass, the male’s expression that of a drifter. He sat quietly, for the moment, with little movement from his muscles. Alcohol weighed heavy on this breath, yet the man only had this one cup. He was far from a light weight, but even the most potent flavors of the Alexandrian beverages could take a toll. Removing his right hand from the chilled, crystalline, glass object, Alastair would place his icy fingers to his forehead. A content sigh would escape the male’s lips which, for once, did not hold a familiar smile. The leather cloak seemed to constrict his body today; perhaps it was the atmosphere of this kingdom that brought this mood up.

Half lidded eyes hazed over, the male could smell the scent of death in the air. Mourning always had a bitter taste and lingered almost sweetly; Alastair despised sweet things. He never had to speak it, but the silver haired male knew exactly how the kingdom felt. Death was never anything to mess with, and he couldn’t help but recall the execution of the woman he dared called ‘Mom’. Alastair, a man not fond of sad stories, sat here at a bar thinking about death: the ultimate sad story. He had to leave this kingdom soon since the land was a plague of sorrow by itself. He’d return once the new Lords got everything taken care of, considering this kingdom held promise.

Or…a search for lost memories. Oh, wait, what was this? Someone he knew? Not possible, or was it? A cobblestoned hallway. Suddenly Alastair knew his eyes were wide, the male not grasping what exactly he got. Fingers ran through his short locks, beneath the leather hood, as the male knew he broke out to a cold sweat. What was with the first person point of view of the vision? It was as if someone was searching. For what the prophet would have to wait and find out.

A feminine hand would reach for Alastair’s fore head, a coo of concern following. However, the prophet being as jumpy as ever – mainly if a vision makes no sense and yet startles – grasped the sun kissed wrist by sheer adrenaline. The figure would struggle as the grip went to vice-like strength, Alastair ceasing to realize what he was doing. Any protest would fall on deafen ears as the male continued to think. Why was there something familiar about that…

…Alastair Crevan Richter. Alastair Crevan Richter. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, Alastair knowing instantly what it meant. A forewarning of certain doom to the prophet; a soul from Palamecia that could point him out in a heartbeat and that person just so happened to be the Emperor’s strategist, Silvine Vilani. His grip wouldn’t loosen, the male frozen by the soft voice. Too many Silvine was nothing but a mere civilian, but Alastair knew exactly what the raven haired male was capable of. It seemed as if the small place fell silent, the song filling the air had ceased. Perhaps this was fate? How cruel.

”Silvine,” the platinum haired male let the name bitterly leave his lips, despite still holding a smile in the end. The boney digits would let go of the waitress’ wrist, Alastair placing his drink onto the oak bar. As the woman would retreat, Alastair wouldn’t move a muscle as the air shifted around his form; Silvine taking a seat next to the slender man. Placing elbows onto the splintering wood Alastair would crane his neck to the right, facing the raven haired male. The smile never fell,”What brings you to Alexandria?” The accent dropped as lashes parted enough to reveal crystalline ice blue. ”Certainly not to see little old me, nor turn me into the current Emperor.”

Shifting his weight Alastair would pull down the leather hood of his cloak. ”You appear bewildered,” adjusting himself on the stool, the porcelain hand would tap on the wood. ”Or strained over something. The vision was awful distorted and fuzzy. Perhaps a sign to slow down on alcohol intake…”His words fell short as the bartender responded finally, the female still cleaning a glass in her hands. Her dark curls bounced with her stride and her plump lips held an obvious forced smile.

”Can I help ya?” The rag was pulled from the glass once it squeaked, and the athletic woman spoke again. ”Or are ya just going to torment my waitresses again?” Her brows would narrow to form a ‘v’ when Alastair simply smiled in response. A woman truly not to be messed with and even the Palamecian caught onto it. However, Alastair would simply throw his fake accent back – once more the façade of being Alexandre.

Almost sheepishly the male placed a hand to the back of his neck. ”Maaa, it was fer fun. I didn’t mean ta scare her. Honest.” The same hand glided over before the raven haired male,”My friend here would like a drink.” His thin, pale, lips would spread into a wider smile. ”Bring him whateva ya have.” With that the woman would scuff before turning to fetch whatever the other spoke. Interlacing his fingers before placing his chin upon the back of his hands, Alastair exhaled. ”If I would have a guess,” the ice blue locked with Silvine’s maroon orbs. ”You’re here to speak with…” Lips curved upward, both already knowing what Silvine had in mind. Alastair didn’t need powers to get the basic selling of Silvine’s work.
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Silvine Vilani
Palamecia

[M:0:0:]

Posts: 18

Did you Foretell t h i s // Alexandre Sept 25, 2011 2:09:43 GMT -5

Post by Silvine Vilani on Sept 25, 2011 2:09:43 GMT -5

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Ah. He caught him at a bad time, it seemed. But no matter. This was the reason why he chose, once he saw the other, to meet him. Alastair was usually not like this. So, he had foretold his coming...interesting. Alcohol may have something to do with it. But either way, Silvine was left with no choice but to watch the scene before him, his expression unchanging.

He said nothing, but glanced at the other beside him. He didn't need to tell the other that, holding onto the young lady's wrist any further, may cause for a scene. The bar keep had enough trouble for the day - certainly they didn't need another incident. Even when his name was spoken, the blank expression, the wordless words, continued.

He asked him what he was doing here in Alexandria, but the edge of his voice told him he was to speak more, and allowed the sentence to be followed up. This time, he would receive an answer. "Palemecia does not exist in this world." It was simple, but spoke of many things; Alastair had no worries from him, nor anyone else, to turn him into the Emperor.

Nor was the tactician even thinking about murdering the other. How could he? He knew the ways of war, and loved it, but he knew not the combat that was within the transcript. He spoke again, but Silvine remained silent; he chose not to tell the other. Why would he show his cards when completely unnecessary? What would be Silvine's gain?

He'd allow the other to think that his previous words could possibly be the reason for his silence. He'd even allow the other to think that Silvine wasn't saying it on purpose. Either or, Silvine cared not. The bar keep spoke, but at the tension of her words, she was a second away from calling someone on the other. He'd best be careful, but he didn't need to tell the Prophet that.

Alcohol or no, he was a bright man. A liar, but a bright one. Speaking of lies, he just lied as Silvine felt the urge to show his dissatisfaction for the lie. However, he opted not to. He was ordered a drink, and Silvine held his tongue once more; he would have requested something light, but the other would most likely use that against him. He would show no sign of hesitation.

Then he dropped the bomb. Silvine didn't need the rest of the sentence. "Wrong." Alastair was ahead of him by a couple of steps; he was not in Alexandria, yet, to speak with the Lord Kuja. However, he could keep the prophet guessing or, at least, wonder if he's right, he was lying, or he jumped ahead.

He chose not to speak on it, but the other placed the book he always carried around with him on the table, after making sure it wasn't wet (he wasn't usually fickle, but he knew what water could do to books) and placed his hands on the said article. Silvine turned, his blank expression still on his face. If Alastair wanted to really know what Silvine was up to, he would need to pry for it.

In a way, it would be payment enough. Silvine would gain amusement for Alastair's curiosity. Which was why Silvine immediately cut to the chase, instead of using a method of lightly telling him no. He wanted him suspicious of why he would even tell him 'no' instead of word it to where he was saying no, but not really out rightly saying it.

One step ahead. That was what he needed to be.

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[style=width: 480px; margin-top: -20px; margin-right: 30px; text-align: right; font-size: 9px; color: #757575]made by prism of ote and sgo~[/style]

Alastair "Alexandre" Kaiser
Palamecia

Incredulous Apostate[M:0:0:]

Posts: 20

Did you Foretell t h i s // Alexandre Sept 25, 2011 13:27:16 GMT -5

Post by Alastair "Alexandre" Kaiser on Sept 25, 2011 13:27:16 GMT -5

[/colour] there was no remorse, hesitation, nor care with the words. Alastair never lost his smile with those words; it was to be expected, a nation without a ruler would fall. It was always written in the stars for the weak to fade. Raising the crystalline glass to his lips, Alastair would swallow down the deep liquid before resting the object onto the wood. Removing his hand from the chilled surface, the leather cloaked male spoke again. ”Then why do you still wear those robes? Certainly you don’t want to be tied to a fallen nation. Or do you have some idealist hopes Palamecia will rise again? Foolish hope, Silvine.” So speaks the man who’d, someday, dawn his original robes.

Silvine wouldn’t say a word, not like Alastair expected him to do such. The raven was always reserved, biting his tongue unless it was of grave importance. Though the two had little contact in the past, it was obvious how Silvine maintained himself. Little to no emotion fell from the shorter male’s expressions, always such a serious tone. Alastair remembered questioning that as a child, always making little comments about a certain stick. A light thud snapped the prophet from his thoughts, the bartender placing down a drink. It would appear as if she was still upset with the situation, but the silver head let it slide.

”Thank ya,” fishing through his deep pockets, the man would pay. Without a word of thanks, or anything, the woman would shove off. Alastair would allow a harden stare cross his features. ”The nerve,” a low hiss, before the prophet would force a natural smile. The mask never meant to be touched.

Silence fell between the two, Alastair arching a brow at the company anyway. Why would Silvine bother to stick around, anyway? Lips parted to speak only to be silenced by a previous questioned to be answered. Oh? Alastair was wrong? Well wasn’t this a new one. Instantly the light hearted side fluttered through, the prophet beginning to poke for information. ”Wrong?” A light chuckle was stifled, never the less still a chuckle, but the slender man merely shrugged, allowing the popping sound of shoulders known.

”Come now, Silvine,” quarter turning on the stool the taller stature man leaned in close to the raven haired. Cocking his head to the right, letting silver locks obscure his vision, the lashes kept parted as the prophet spoke low,”I’m sure I’ve known you long enough to guess…” Alastair’s free hand would reach, in attempts to grasp the other’s left shoulder. ”But, oh well. Maybe you’re just missing your marks. Old age catching up to you?” The smile never faltered, the sheet white male released another chuckle. ”No need to be tense. I only kid.”

The ever so-touchy Alastair would let fingers toy at the silken, raven, locks. Curiosity piqued the other’s tone,”Not speaking to the Lords…” The male gave a puzzled expression, lashes lowering on closing eyes in attempts to hide the obvious bewilderment. ”The only thing a silent man like you would like is,” he’d crane his neck toward the door, but action would provide no help with his vision. ”That library or what not they praise so much about.”

The prophet would fall silent, already his mind thinking through this situation. Though both were raised in Palamecia, it wasn’t like they were friends. Hell, Alastair didn’t declare anyone a friend within palace walls. Everyone was a snake, waiting patiently to strike down another politician. Why would the prophet trust anyone within the corridors? You had to be a complete fool to put complete trust in someone or believe you’re completely safe. Alastair made that mistake, and by the sake of Heaven and Hell causing a war, he’d never fall to that mistake again.

Alastair’s hand would withdraw from Silvine’s hair, but not before tugging just enough to keep Silvine from possibly reading (nothing to inflict pain). ”Say, Silvine, if you’re not here for that either,” foreheads would almost touch as Alastair hummed. ”Then why are you here? I have to know now,” a pause. ”We both know I get what I want. Or are we going to play this game?”

Speaking of games, Alastair’s mind just recalled a past desire. ”Another thing I wanted to know…” Hands swiftly scooped the book, fingers working in attempts to open the various pages. ”What you keep in this book~” The curiosity had taken its toll, the mastermind long gone by his own childish side. ”I always plotted as a child to swipe it and find out, but could never even get near you! Now I have a chance.”
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Last Edit: Sept 25, 2011 13:31:35 GMT -5 by Alastair "Alexandre" Kaiser

Silvine Vilani
Palamecia

[M:0:0:]

Posts: 18

Did you Foretell t h i s // Alexandre Sept 25, 2011 22:10:15 GMT -5

Post by Silvine Vilani on Sept 25, 2011 22:10:15 GMT -5

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If he expected a reaction from the other, he wouldn't be graced with it. Maybe Silvine did not care about the nation falling...or perhaps...he didn't remember. Whichever it was, there was no way of actually telling. Silvine's eyes remained a blank slate, no emotion shinning from them. He wasn't as talented as the other, managing to close his eyes ever so slightly, but this worked well as well.

Hmm, he would've answered the man, but he also didn't need to know why he still wore his robes. He had no excuse not to; he had the information required to have such robes. Who said money had to be the price? He may try that, but if he chose to deal with things from commonfolk, he'd be talked about...the last thing the tactician need was to get famous.

People would start to hunt for him. She also brought his drink shortly after, but was just as rude as she had been before. However, unlike the other, no reaction was given as a hand was removed from the book in front of him to grasp the drink as he tested it against his lips as the silence drew on. Ahh, it wasn't that strong. It seemed like this would suffice.

However, the other spoke, which gave him reason for him to placed down the glass, laying the same hand on top the other, careful not to wet it from the condensation of the glass. The air changed, only slightly, but he knew the other wanted to know. Was it because of his ability of foresight, or his possible childish ambitions? Either way, he would find out.

The other suddenly got close, but Silvine, though not used to such close contact and could feel instant discomfort, reacted little to none to the sudden advance of the other. His shoulder instantly stiffened, and Silvine immediately cursed himself for being unable to stop the instant reaction of having his shoulder touched by the other. Even so, it did not relax under his grip.

The alcohol on his breath was strong, but Silvine manage to hold his blank stare as his head turned to face the other. Old? If only age mattered to the other. However, he knew that age had nothing to do with it. He may have been right about the mark, but he was wrong in a way too. Of course, Alastair couldn't have known the vast information he managed to have gathered in a couple of hours.

It was futile to hide his surprise that he was wrong about this. Silvine's jaw clenched as he played with his hair. What was with the other? He couldn't say alcohol had anything to do with it, but...something was off. Not off about him, but off about the entire situation. He normally didn't react yet here he was, staring at the other, very tempted to glare at him.

Silvine spoke not, nor confirming if he was right or wrong. He wouldn't be surprised if he saw the other in the library in his vision. The man fell silent, which was strange for him. Lost in thought? Silvine rather the thoughts stay in his mind. He'd rather not know what was lurking in the prophet's mind. It might shatter his entire mind.

However, at his hair being tugged, Silvine's eyelids closed slightly, looking between a cross of annoyance and a glare. Maybe he wanted to know what the other was up to. There was something in his voice...like he was about to do something that he wouldn't like. "it would depend on the 'want'." That was blatantly stating he would play the game further.

He wouldn't give up to him, especially if he wanted information for free. That wasn't how the tactician worked. He hadn't had his fill of the game yet, and he wouldn't lose it until he was satisfied. He trailed off suddenly, and caught the other by surprise. Silvine's eyes widened and narrowed, possibly the most emotion Silvine had ever given to someone in his career as the book was snatched from his grasp (though a light one) and Alastair would attempt to read it.

But he couldn't. The entire book was made up of Silvine's own, small, hand writing. Every single letter was written with care, as if nothing in the book was insignificant to the other. But the was something strange about the letters. They weren't of this world or, perhaps, of this language. "My own alphabet." Silvine dropped the bomb.

Victory for Silvine, in a sense. The corners of his mouth just barely twitched into a very small smile. The prophet would not like this at all. But that was what made the game interesting. What would the other do? But the tactician would always be a step ahead...even if was years ago. A language only he knew...a book meant only for him to read...

Alastair shouldn't underestimate him.

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[style=width: 480px; margin-top: -20px; margin-right: 30px; text-align: right; font-size: 9px; color: #757575]made by prism of ote and sgo~[/style]