4741/Rook and Queen

Rook and Queen
Date of Scene:	25 June 2018
Location:	Hellfire Club, New York City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	M, Black Queen

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M has posed:
The Hellfire Club is not quite 'homey', but there is something comfortable about it for people like Monet St. Croix. It's not a sense of security or safety, but rather knowing tht betrayal /may/ happen at any time inside very specific, narrow sets of rules.

So it's relatively safe to relax with a drink knowing you're not going to get stabbed in the back.

Monet exits the discreet towncar pulled into the parking dock and two steps carry her into the club's interior. Such is the way of things that the public has no view of who comes or goes from the Club. She's dressed formally, a nod to the Club's dress code-- a glittering black and violet evening dress. The outfit is saved from modesty with a plunging backless cut and a high-thigh slit up the left side. She carries a small clutch in her left hand and breezes past the receptionist, who hurries forward to open the door for the Monagasque beauty.

The Black Rook heads into the lounge proper and bellies up to the bar, slipping onto a stool and wiggling immacuately manicured nails at the bartender to get his attention.

Black Queen has posed:
The Hellfire Club is definitely homey. People of all sorts of varieties come here. The wealthy, the politically connected, and they do horrible rotten things in rooms, and sometimes not in rooms. It's heaven. Really, on Earth. Selene's love of the Hellfire club exudes across all levels of the place, but since she's going into the more tame 'private' but not 'super private' locations she is dressed formally as well. Though ironically for the black queen she's dressed in a rather standoutish red dress.

It too has a plunging neckline, and a rather high slit up the side of the long skirt of the dress. She walks into the room rather easily and when she sees Monet she smiles and starts heading in her direction. She settles herself at the bar and sits next to her, and soon after her arrival, by the time she's crossed her legs, the bartender is pouring a nearly 900 year old wine for her in a glass. No requests or words uttered to the bartender as she turns to the rook, "Evening to you. And I hope it has been a glorious evening." Selene's eyes are smiling a bit, along with her lips as she reaches out to grab at her wine.

M has posed:
Monet turns well before Selene actually speaks, and acknowledges the other woman with the slightest of familiar smiles. "Selene," Monet says, tilting her head forward in an ever-so-slight gesture of welcome. "It's been quite lovely so far, thank you," she informs the other woman. Her eyes flicker to Selene's attire. "And that's a lovely outfit you have on," she adds, making it less flattery and more simple praise. The bartender looks to her and Monet sucks the inside of her cheek, thinking. "Gin, please," she tells the fellow. She sets her clutch on the countertop and swivels on her barstool so she and Selene are more or less able to face each other.

"And how do you fare today?" she inquires of the other woman. "Are things here as quiet as they've been out in the world?"

Black Queen has posed:
"Oh, thank you for the compliment. I had it made by the lead designer at Gucci." Selene lets on as she turns her attention in the direction of Monet as the other woman turns toward her. She asks, "Quiet?" She shakes her head a little bit, "Oh, no no no, my dear. The world has been loud, very suddenly. And I am rather excited." There's a bit of a chuckle as she sips her wine, her eyes wide and almost shining in the smile that reaches them. "So, I fare very well. Well enough that I am out here celebrating. Wondering if anyone might notice, or hear a thing from a bird, and wonder. Canaries all of them though. That part will be boring, so dull, really, but till then. The mine is interesting, to say the least." A pause before she says, "So rude of me though. Your dress is also, nice..." Clearly an after thought.

M has posed:
"Mm, I'm afraid I don't have much news from birds-- canaries or otherwise," Monet tells Selene. Her tone vaguely suggests apology somewhere in the words, inasmuch as a blue blood like her /can/ apologize.

"So to what shall we drink, then?" she inquires, one arched brow lifting minutely. "Might you share the cause of your celebration, or is to be a surprise for the Black Court?" the Monagasque beauty inquires. Her drink arrives and she curls her fingers around the glass and lifts it a fractional inch in Selene's direction. "Health," she murmurs, before taking a small sip.

Black Queen has posed:
There's a soft bit of laughter, and Selene mentions, "Yes, certainly, to health." She tips her rather old wine in the direction of Monet slightly before she drinks some more. And then she grins, cradling her wine glass in both of her hands. With that settled she says, "Oh, I believe there shall be chaos. That is all. I got rather bored yesterday, and so I figured..." She glances about and leans closer to Monet to whisper, "Why not? Release them all? It will take weeks, maybe months to recapture all of them. The idiocy in those cages, I understand it was the demographic. Those who might be caught lack brillance to begin with, but yes. All of the birds were set free. It was fun. For a few minutes. And now there will be chaos. Or more chaos. I have it on good authority that the target of my appreciation may be carrying a few things that I desire."

"That, is why I celebrate. Though with swill." She looks at the wine and sips some more of it, "Aged to perfection means little these days."

M has posed:
Monet hesitates before her next sip, gauging Selene's words carefully with a flickering narrow of her eyes. She sets her drink aside, giving Selene her undivided attention, and tilts her head a fractional degree to the left.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite following," Monet tells Selene, hesitantly. "I've been a little incommunicado for a few days while visiting family-- do we have an aviary or somesuch of which I'm unaware?" she inquires in her heavily French-accented tonals. "Or are your references less metaphorical?" She shifts slightly and crosses her legs at the knee, and rests her elbow against the heavily lacquered bartop.

Black Queen has posed:
There's a moment of hesitation before Selene offers, "Birds, why would I be concerned about birds? No. There is no aviary." She indicates before sighing out and she reaches out to put a hand on Monet's shoulder. She smiles lightly, "Here, I will explain it a bit more, slowly." There's definitely a bit of a tone there, but not as demeaning as one might expect from Selene on a regular basis. "There's a hidden prison, that holds the worst most savage metas. As a distraction for something else I am planning, I broke in, instead of out, and freed all the idiots who got caught." She says it and smiles, "Now they are running rampant all over, well, the city? The nation? The world? I do not know, really, I did not pay much attention to it afterwards. Just as long as it was really messy. I mean, very messy. I felt good though, I did restrict them to only eating or otherwise humanely dealing with pets. I felt that was the least I could do..."

M has posed:
Both of Monet's eyebrows climb towards her hairline, and it's a few measured beats while she processes that information. "Sacre bleu... the Triskelion. That was /you/?" she inquires of Selene. She touches her fingertips to her collarbone (perhaps a little over-dramatically), and stares at her drink for a few seconds while she comports herself.

"It... is not the most subtle act in the world," she concludes, after thinking things through. "But I suppose I cannot object overmuch to freeing captive metahumans. Given how poorly the government treats mutants at large, it seems unfair to detain them in such 'orrid conditions as internment camps masquerading as 'prisons'."

She reaches for her drink, and tips it towards Selene again. "To liberty, oui?" she inquiers, with a mirthless humor.

Black Queen has posed:
There's a moment, and Selene removes her hand from Monet's shoulder. Grinning profusely for a moment. "I know. Not secretive at all, really. I just was, bored, what can I say?" She shrugs a little bit, "In a few decades no one will remember it anyhow... and really I'm hoping no one will know about it now. I wanted a distraction. Needed one. This SHIELD group, they..." SHe pauses and looks around, then sort of raises her hand and twirls a finger, when people stop suddenly paying any attention to Monet or Selene. "So, I believe they carry quite a bit of information. And relics, potentially, they know things about Metas. And I want that. While they are rummaging around looking for well, these minor villains, who are causing mayhem. They will be prime for the picking."

She does grimace a little bit while you talk about 'freeing mutants for some kind of liberty' and she looks at you. Then shakes her head a little bit, "Seriously, I do not understand you sometimes. I do not quibble about ... food. Keep them caged for all I care, and they'll likely eventually go back. As they say, once a slave too stupid to escape, always a slave too stupid to escape." A bit of a scoff at the prisoners.

M has posed:
It'd take an absurd sort of idiot to be trying to spy inconspicuously on Monet, or Selene. Both women have formidable mental talents, and particularly Monet is rather cavalier about the etiquette regarding psychic powers. She rummages through thoughts with a disregard for propriety.

"You have such a refreshing view of the long term," Monet tells Selene with a somewhat envious smirk. "Any serious problem can be ducked by going to ground for a few years and letting everyone live themselves to death over it."

She considers Selene with a somewhat arch expression that conveys a tensed disagreement with the other woman's question about 'liberty'. "The Triskelion's locks and vaults are quite formidable, and the weapons around these facilities are hardly laughing matters. Even one such as myself-- or yourself-- could find our talents neutralized and all our strength enfeebled on the wrong side of those bars," she reminds Selene. "I feel a kinship with the mutants and metahumans of America, even if they are otherwise members of the feckless proletarian rabble. They are often victims of circumstance and prejudice, and it /does/ devolve upon us--" clearly 'us' refers to the aristocracy-- "to use our capabilities to ensure at least a ... level playing field."

Black Queen has posed:
There's a smile on Selene's lips, "Well, yes. They..." Everyone but herself probably, "Just keep on dying anyhow. Why bother trying to do it unless it's fun, or for ... fun? Otherwise they'll quibble, and talk, and walk around like cattle till eventually they fall over on their own." There's a slight shrug of her shoulders as she drinks down the rest of her wine. "I wonder sometimes why they do not just slaughter themselves when they realize it at 12, or 13 years old? It is a miracle any of them grow to be 'old'." She uses the word but laughs lightly afterwards.

"You may speak for your self. Maybe the prison is very capable at holding... well, not me... but that is not exactly the most challenging thing. Please. They had collars, and some cages that were see-through, and then quite a few of those computers about. It was really quite easy to release everyone. I was almost shocked."

Your bigger point getting a slight bit of a frown. "Do you think me a mother? These 'people' in these cages are dust. Walking, talking, dust. They served a purpose, they will serve a purpose, nothing more."

M has posed:
A small muscle tic betrays Monet's flashing irritation at Selene's casual dismissal of her race. "I think, perhaps, zis conversation has run its course," she says, in a Perfectly Polite tone of voice that is fairly dripping with undercurrents of venom. "I do not ask for you to be mother or aunt or anything-- nothing was asked of you at all." She gets to her feet, smoothly and with perfect balance. "But if you seek someone to glorify your actions, perhaps find some lickspittle among the Pawns and court their favor. I have zeen too many mutants driven to suicide or self-destruction, or executed for no crime other than being what they were born to be. Ze world is singularly intent on wiping out my kin, no matter how ... common they are. If you use zhem solely to advance a personal goal, then that is the end of it, oui? Congratulations for your victory." She reaches for her clutch. "I can but merely hope you have not sacrificed so many solely to satiate some... idle whim."

Black Queen has posed:
"Oooh. I must have pushed a button." Selene comments and smiles with a bit of mirth. "I understand. Sentimentality is a weakness we all share." She offers while she settles the glass on the bar. "That is a weakness that time cures. For what are the stars but candles burning? And a soul? A flicker, a singular momentary spark." Selene shakes her head just a little bit, "Oh, dear child. Seen mutants executed?" There's a bit of a laugh that comes from Selene's lips. "I did not watch as others died. I watched as people laughed and cheered, while I burned on a pile of wood. Crucified, and no one came to my aid, not even for their own reasons. Did I complain? Did I run like a little girl with my tail between my legs for a mere disagreement?" A pause and Selene takes on a more serious tone, "What does it matter the reasons, if the results are the same? They are free, are they not? From this... impenetrable fortress of a prison? You may hope for the hero, but the villain who deals the same hand is just as good."

M has posed:
Monet affixes Selene with a glare cold enough to freeze water. "Do as you wish. Save them, kill them, ignore them. I do not invite or demand anything of you," she says, a hand slashing through the air horizontally. "But, as well, I need not sit here while you disparage my species. Yes, it is a button. You have successfully pushed it, and now, whether or not your reasons, I am taking my leave of you. Good day, Selene."

Monet flickers a hard, angry gaze at the Black Queen, then turns smartly on her heel and heads towards the doorway fairly bristling with an anger that would be palpable even if she was not a psychic.

Black Queen has posed:
Turning to the bartender, Selene mentions, "Ah to be young again." She smirks a little, "Such spirit. Rebellious nature." There's a soft sigh as she taps at her glass and says, "This time, bourbon." And she then looks back in the direction of where Monet left in a huff. A soft smile crosses her lips, "And yes, today was a very good day. I wonder if anyone will be sent. Doubtful really." She waves a hand flippantly, kind of talking to herself for the moment before sighing, "Oh well. She will see tomorrow, or the next day. Or soon, walking dust with at least some attitude."