"Looking at how your Royal Guard was defeated I wonder how many manpower and effort it will take for your people." Enma is calling maids to take the plates away and do not come back to princess' appartment until the late solar morning. "It's late, your highness and I bet some things are better to discuss in private." Loyola takes the napkins and wipes her mouth, looking at Charlotte strictly, but still without showing out any emotions. She's waiting until maids will leave the room, don't looking at the directly to not make it obvious. Loyola wants them to be alone, preferably all night.
"It's enough of politics for today, don't you think?" She smiled rather amused, but her eyes are still rather indifferent. It's hard to tell if she's playing or not. "This evening is beautiful and we probably could spend it in a more amusing way. Maybe know each other a little bit closer, hm? I'm kind of sick from Maltese and those who surrounding us, you are so different." She's playing a pause. "Forgive me for excessive frankness here, that's not too polite. But on the other hand we are both tired from the problems and could just relax, throw away the formalities." Enma stood up from the chair and headed towards Charlotte along the table. Loyola's politelly offering her a hand to stand up.
Enma is already thinking about a bottle of elite Gallic wine that she saved just for Charlotte. Now she's only hoping for this bottle to be elite enough to meet princess' expectations. Hell, 1 million credits just for one bottle, the most expensive wine Loyola could order on the market. If this bottle won't be good enough, then there's no chance to get a proper alcohol for Charlotte, which evetually led to more problems.
Charlotte was a really complicated person, but Loyola was seriously aiming to enjoy this night at least. There's gonna be a lot of work in coming days, so this is her last free night in a coming week. It would be a shame to spend it in boredom and conflicts. For some reason Enma do believe that deep in sould Charlotte is sharing her desire. They are all just human beings after all, natural desires are not alien to them. At least this was Enma's way of thinking, which she always trusted exclusivelly.
Charlotte's teeth clenched at the mention of her guard's demise, although it was not the Maltese who could take credit for that. The half-dozen of them had simply been outnumbered by the crew at large - it had been six versus over a hundred. The pain of losing them still stabbed at her, a constant reminder that she was in fact the luckiest of the Calliope's passengers. What had happened to the rest of them, particularly the fat, drunken, and almost useless Labourd, was something not worth thinking about. She took the veiled threat for what it was, though, shifting into a mental reverse gear. Enma's smile never quite reached her eyes, and that flinty gaze left her worried that she might have pushed too far.
"Perhaps you're right," she said, though she was thinking exactly the opposite. "Politics can bring out the worst in people." She had meant to apologise for her outburst, too, but that was asking the impossible. The words would have stuck in her throat - it was an effort even to accept Enma's outstretched hand. The idea of spending more time with the woman was thoroughly unappealing, but it was clear that the Maltese leader had some kind of personal interest in her. It was almost like a curious sort of fascination, as if true royalty was something to have never before graced Maltese lands. In fact, Charlotte supposed, that was quite likely the case. It was entirely possible that she was the most illustrious trophy a raiding party had ever brought in, and the other woman seemed almost unsure how to treat her. She had expected to be thrown to the wolves - that had very nearly happened, although they had not known who she was - but apparently the orange world's administration had had other plans for a person of her standing. The situation was now more curious than it was frightening or intimidating. She was still a hostage, a prisoner alone in a strange and unfamiliar world, but the cage they'd thrown her in was gilded and soft.
Unfortunately, a cage was still a cage, and she was beginning to suspect she might have rattled the bars too much for one night. If this Enma wanted to enjoy her company, there was not much she could do about it. It wasn't as if it would be dangerous or unpleasant, not unless they decided to poison the wine, but Charlotte was beginning to suspect the other woman wanted something from her. There was something she was missing, a tugging at the strings. Enma had not struck her as a particularly powerful person, but there was a shrewdness in those calculating, cold eyes that belied a sharper intellect than what first appeared. Had she been manipulated into snapping back at her, manoeuvered into this current situation where 'no' seemed too dangerous to consider?
In the end, she decided not to press her luck. The viper was smiling now, but that didn't mean the venom had gone anywhere. Besides - there was the smallest chance that an extended, more casual discussion could give her yet more answers, more insight into this Maltese way of thinking. As long as she was careful to mind what she said in return, and dodge the more probing questions about Gallia and her own life, what could go wrong? It was her blood that made her special, not anything she knew or could unwittingly let slip. As long as she kept up her guard and weaponised her own status as an object of deep interest, it might even be fun. In a strange way, she would still have the stronger negotiating position - it was Enma who wanted to know about her much more than the opposite. Watching her pry and dig for answers could be something to look forward to. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Please, after you," offered the princess, following Enma's lead from the dining room. As the pair left, the room bustled with activity behind them, a swarm of servants descending upon the remains of the meal. They wiped it out with almost mechanical efficiency, sweeping plate after plate of untouched food up and away from the table in seconds. Within only a couple of minutes, it was as if the room had never been touched.
Enma is waking up. Giant handmade bed in the center of the room, holographic representation of the Outcast cross on ceiling right above. The same room she fell asleep yesterday. She's slowly standing up, taking a look around. it was quite messy, even empty bottle of wine is laying on the floor, along with some personal items. There went one million credits. Empty plates from additionaly ordered snacks and desserts. At least those maids will have something to do, aside of chatting with their princess. She's taking a kind look on Charlotte who was sleeping next to her. Her breath is calm and she generally have a perfect morning mood to start a good day. Even her breath was perfetly calm and deep.
Loyola is taking her blouse and slowly pulling it on, she's still too sleepy to do it fast. Pants, jacket and shoes went just after. Now Loyola is spending about 10-15 minutes in a front of the mirror making up her hair. Oh her way she's also finding a bottle of 'El Sable Cola' in a bucket with already melting ice. It was not the ideal, but way better whan nothing. Loyola is opening the bottle and heading to the bed again. Charlotte was still sleeping and nothing indicated that she will wake up anytime soon. Holding look on the Gallic princess for a few more moments, Enma is heading to quite lone standing laptop on a giant table, beautiful leather armchair would probably make some Gaian to shed a tear.
Enma really had to go soon, but she would not leave Charlotte without a latter. She's sitting down and starting to type out the message. She is not even sure how to talk to Charlotte now, start with traditional 'your highness' or maybe something else? There was too many choices now, situation was way more simple yesterday, even though it was hard. Enma sighed and just started to type. She have some sort of plan on what to, but it's still not simple.
Quote:"Good morning, your highness. I hope you slept well. Sadly I have to leave you this morning, because of my duties. Something tells me that we will meet faster than we both expecting. But, anyway, if you will need something just inform your maids. I will leave my direct contacts as well, feel free to contact me in every time of day and night if you will need anything. I will try to begin negotiations with your family as soon as possible. By the way if you want to send a communiqué to your home, just let me know. Of coruse it will be under observation and channel will be extremely secured, but it's doable only if you wish.
And another thing I did not manage to tell you yesterday. It's quite important, but I did not suit the conversation. It's seems like our medics used a lot of Cardamine during your unconsciousness. It's a common practice here, we use it in medecine and even in our cookery. It means that your body will require for more anytime soon. I will order to provide you the best sorts of Cardamine, but please... If you will feel any sort of dizziness, weakness or just feel yourself sick, order it. Don't risk the long deprivation, you do not deserve to die. On my side I will do what I can, but please, don't do anything unwise. I'm with you, you are not one by one with this. "
Loyola somehow felt Charlotte after this night, partly because she also felt herself a prisoner of the situation, where every decision is leading right into into the abbys. Enma still do believe that she can win this situation, but for now it's hardly imaginable. It still depended on too many other people aside her, including Charlotte, relations with who are now completely blurred.
Sleep had come far too easily, but waking up was always the hard part. Charlotte stirred to life slowly, bleary eyes blinking the haze of sleep away. The sheets were warm and soft, and for the longest time she was loath to move much at all. There was nothing good waking up could give her, nothing to make the effort worth it. All she wanted to do was sleep forever.
Eventually, though, she could lie there no longer. The air raised goosebumps on her skin as she propped herself up on one elbow, the sight of the room around her bringing some of last night's events rushing back. The place was strewn with plates of half-eaten food, emptied bottles of wine, and the rest of the detritus their night in had left in its wake. Even looking at it brought some of the memories flooding back, and she buried her head in her hands. So much for self-control. She had no idea when Enma had left, but the Maltese administrator was nowhere to be seen now. That was good, because Charlotte had no idea what she would have said now. It was all very complicated, although her confinement here was infinitely more preferable than the many alternatives she could think of.
Reaching across the sheets, she pulled on the lilac dressing gown she found there, sitting up properly and levering herself out of the bed entirely. Her bare feet practically sank into the heavy fur carpet as she set off across the room, heading for the dresser to make herself look somewhat presentable. Her hair was a total mess, a dark-brown, straggly expanse with only the barest semblance of styling left in it. Even if it was to be a lonely day for her - and somehow, she suspected that it might well be - there was no point not looking the part. It would help take her mind off things, too.
Halfway there, the laptop screen caught her eye, a soft glow from her peripheral vision pulling her over like a magnet. She hadn't even noticed the computer being there before - it certainly wasn't hers, and she hadn't seen Enma use it or bring it in either. One finger swept lightly across the touchpad to wake up the screen, and she began to read in silence.
As she read, leaning over the table, her bearing changed. No, no - this wasn't right at all. She felt sick, her shoulders slumping as the words emblazoned on the screen burned into her vision. They had medicated her with their Cardamine - their poison, their Maltese venom. Her heart felt like it was trying to burst out of her chest, the incessant pumping spreading the taint further through her blood. It had been a trap - it had always been a fucking trap. They had dug the hooks in while they still could, even without her having to lay a single glance on their twisted world. The anger rose in her again, bitter hatred and bile spilling over further than ever before. With a howl of frustration, she hurled the laptop across the room, her voice cracking as it crashed into the far wall and fell to the floor. The bowl of fruit came next, though it was heavier - she could only throw it halfway before it plopped to the floor with a sad thud, shedding a trail of bananas and oranges in its wake. She couldn't think, couldn't even breathe - her chest felt tight, like it was being constricted. Just as the chains had been slackening, Enma had jerked the collar tight again. It hurt, an almost physical pain in her chest as she wailed again, staggering across the room to find something else to rampage against.
It took her minutes to calm down - at least minutes, Charlotte thought. The red mist had descended only after she wore herself out again, the catharsis of smashing, breaking, and screaming her way through a room full of expensive possessions doing what little it could to soothe her. Now that she had had time to collect her thoughts, things seemed better - not much better, but just a little. They had drugged her, slaved her to their poison, but she would fight it until her dying breath. Her mind was already drawing parallels to Marseille's infamous narcotic, the purplish hallucinogen Nox. Addiction was debilitating and sunk its claws in quickly, but while recoveries were rare they were indeed possible. The drug had plagued the Kingdom for decades - it was still a problem in some areas, but advancements in therapeutic programs and newly invented treatments had improved the likelihood of breaking out of its influence considerably. This Cardamine, she decided, would be much the same. Yes - Gallic medical technology was the finest in the known universe, years and decades ahead of that which any Sirian could hope to know of. They had had her for barely a few days, a week at most - they could not have worked up a total dependency yet. All she had to do was hold out, to steel herself against the coming pangs. Part of her wanted to believe that Enma's note was lying to her, but it was useless to even think that. If her own limited knowledge of the drug was to be believed, when the withdrawal began to kick in she would find out one way or another.
With that, Charlotte was able to convince herself that she would be fine. It helped - of course it helped - but it did nothing to ease her sense of betrayal and wounded pride. Again, she had thought the Maltese were letting her make headway, letting her push and rattle at her cage bars without bothering to slap her down. Now, again, she could see that she had been wrong all along. The axe had not just been hovering above - it had fallen before she had even woken up the previous morning. She just hadn't realised it yet. It stung without any hope of being soothed, and soon enough it wiped away the tenuous hope she had been clinging onto in a wave of pessimism and desperation. The Outcasts were outmanoeuvering her at every turn, and each passing day made her situation worse. It was hopeless.
Wiping away the hot tears of frustration with one sleeve, Charlotte just went back to bed, burying herself under the covers as if they were a shield, sweeping the outside world away behind a few centimetres of duvet.