Drafting the future

[Damien]

Jessika Thrice was an intriguing woman with an air of confidence and bright rays of warmth that appeared through the storm-cloud of irritation just moments before. The thought made Damien's eyes dance in delight.

"Such manners are becoming of a politician,"
Damien toyed with the idea like a cat did a mouse. "But expected in the public eye. In private?"
the question hung in the air for static seconds. With a tantalizing smile, he shrugged. "Anything can happen."


Damien turned his back on both women to study the mounted frame that hung on the wall. The scene depicted was as dull as the artist's brush. A poor Mexican family hard at work in the sun drenched fields. The glory of humanity reduced to a humble slice of reality.

"Do you know the source of our ingenuity? What makes men and women truly great? It is our ability to defy the concept of the impossible. Madness is slowly soaking the world. What other than madness can cure it? In a mad world, what is considered insane would be sane."


Damien pivoted and returned his attention to Jessika. He cocked his head with a deepening grin in anticipation of her reaction. What was the man who sought a private meeting doing discussing inane philosophy? He hoped she knew better, but her understanding was not required.

"So I am here to ask a question. Tell me plainly, what is your opinion of Damien Oakland and all that I do?"
The demand held the weight of the earth.


Edited by Damien, Jan 13 2015, 12:11 PM.

[Camila]

She listened to the American woman complain with condescending tolerance while maintain coolly neutral features. Her patience had a tendency to run short, and something about the blonde was beginning to test it. Fortunately, Damien’s arrival saved her the need to try and appease the other woman and further try said patience.

Having been expecting him, surprise never made itself shown, and Camila’s posture didn’t alter in the slightest. However, the blonde’s obvious slight was altogether different, and nearly earned a roll of her eyes before Camila remembered the purpose for the meeting. Unfortunately, Damien’s encouraging remark and smile tested her resolve. Sitting a little straighter, she disentangled her arms and settled her hands on the desk at either side of her as she watched the spectacle before her.

Was this how the woman had gotten this far in her career? By using pretty smiles and other female subtleties to get what she wanted? Men could be easy to manipulate, Camila understood that well enough. She’d gotten sufficient information from the cartels in much the same way, though watching it happen in front of her left a rather unpleasant taste in her mouth. Hoping that there was more to Jessika Thrice than her pretty golden locks, the morena listened to Oakland’s speech and continued to observe.

[Jensen James]

((Ooc: So I had this long beautiful post a few days ago with all these great insights into Jessika and I lost it just before going to post because the computer shut itself down before I had saved the file. There were all these insights like how she smiled tightly even when she was offended that he turned away and spoke to a painting instead of her. She was only being nice to him because he's potentially useful to her, but even if it turned out he wouldn't be, she'd be no less amiable and warm because that's the kind of good southern lady she is. And she doesn't consider herself a real politician, just a woman doing God's work. And on and on. I wish I could recreat it. unfortunately, all I managed to recreate was the following pitiful paragraph: JJ))




"I have no opinion of you, sir, as I know very little about you. You see, I follow very little of what happens in Mexico City - cartels rise and fall all the time - and you're no different than any of the other men who sought to unite power behind one name.

"You're not democratically elected, yet clearly one of the most powerful people in Mexico. It's even stranger given you're not Mexican; do you even speak Spanish?

"It reminds me of high school history when we studied the early consolidation of Russian assets behind Nikolai Brandon. To be honest, I don't care much of what happens in Mexico except how it affects Texas. Do you intend to do to North America what he did to Europe?"

[Damien]

It was an amusing sight to watch as the machinations of a politician’s brain worked in response to his presence. Damien listened with intent interest that shone in his pleasant smile. His eyes did not rise sceptically at the profession that she paid little attention to matters in Mexico. A poor decision if it were true and he would believe it of his former compatriots who barely looked beyond their own state border. Texans should have learned by now but who had ever accused them of being quick studies?

His smile did twitch wider at her depreciation as ‘just another man’ which only broadened when the issue of democratic election was brought up. The great Republic had strayed far from its democratic principle. Candidates were run through red tape and technicalities before reaching the public domain. When it came time to vote the options were controlled by their benefactors and the political parties only offered the illusion of real choice for the voter. Damien had stripped the illusion from Mexico’s eyes. The people supported him in their actions, not a piece of paper. His detractors would do the same. It was a subject he had pondered for some time in San Quentin. The purest democracy could be found in war. Civil war most of all. The people would choose their fate; Damien would facilitate it in one way or another.

It was Thrice’s final comments that finally drew a reaction from him. His eyes danced as he leaned back on the desk Camila sat at. He was careful not to obscure her view, choosing the corner that did not lie between the two women. “I would not touch that cesspool of corruption if it were served to me on a platter,”
he is languid laugh was at odds with the contempt of his words. “Let another fool try their luck taming the last free bastion of the ‘West’, I want no part of it.”


Damien’s attention shifted to Camila and gave a short nod to signal that she would put her hard won intelligence to use. “Thank you for indulging me, Ms Thrice. I have no further questions for you. I do have a piece of advice.”
He tapped a finger on the hard wood. “I would take care to watch your borders more closely if you intend to lead Texas to prosperity.”
He sprung from his resting position to take Thrice’s hand in his own firm grip. “It was a pleasure. Camila is the one on official business, I would not want to delay that any further. Unless you have a question of your own? It would only be fair if I were to answer in kind.”

[Jensen James]

Jessika's expression froze her face solid. She would not crack if a crowbar split apart her jaw. Her posture was perfect. Her fingers were loosely twined together. She was a lovely statue.

But inside she raged. All this cloak and dagger, scrimping and scraping to accommodate his majesty, and she was dismissed before they engaged in a normal conversation? Damien spied on her with his fruitcake girlfriend, wisked himself in on the wind, interrogated her about art of all nonsense, and bid her good day on a single breath. When he took her hand, she did not let go when he moved aside.

"What is this rouse of yours? I may not seem like much from someone like you, but I know when I am being played for a fool. And its rude whether you are Mexican, American, or Texan. What do you want from me? After all this, I deserve to hear it from your lips."
That plastered smile stretched her mouth tight, but her eyes did not flick aside, they held Damien's as firmly as he squeezed her hand.

[Camila]

The conversation continued on in front of her. She listened quietly, bidding her time until the right moment to speak. That Jessika cared little of what happened in Mexico did not surprise Camila, but a brow rose none the less. The woman dismissed the plight of the Mexican people as easily as one discarded a useless piece of paper. Blaming her direct involvement and experience with the poison that the Cartels truly were as the reason for Camila’s response to the other woman’s comments, she shifted her attention to Damien. Sooner or later the American blonde would learn to care more, assuming she understood anything.

A slight smirk tugged at a corner of her mouth with his initial response. She’d grown to trust him, given all he’d done so far, but there was no denying that he was rather full of himself. Some men had the right of it, she supposed. Damien could very well be one, but she’d be damned if she ever admitted that out loud.

Returning his nod with a slight tilt of her own, Camila chose to remain where she sat until his departure. She’d known from the moment the Thrice woman entered the room that she was not likely to enjoy the way things needed to play out, and watching her response to Damien’s announcement as he began to take his leave only confirmed her assessment.

She was tempted to speak up then, but she admitted to herself that watching Damien deal with situations of the sort was actually fun for her. In any case, it gave Camila a greater opportunity to discern whether or not Jessika Thrice deserved to hear the information she had to offer.
Edited by Camila, Feb 3 2015, 12:39 AM.

[Damien]

Damien did not break eye contact with the woman who gripped his hand and demanded answers of him. His expression shifted from one of pleasant ease to cold stone.

Death whispered in her ear yet she was deaf to its call. A thousand daggers pressed ever closer and she closed her eyes and turned her back. A symptom that plagued his homeland that could well prove terminal.

"I owe you nothing,"
he whispered into her ear as he leaned closer. "My very life was forfeit the moment I returned to this wasteland."


Damien retreated to find Jessika's gaze once more. The grip on his hand was still tight. "You confess to caring nothing for Mexico save how it will affect Texas. You demand what you think is yours by right."


Embers sparked hotter in his eyes of liquid fire. "By 'rights' I should watch as Texas burns with the rest of the squalid states as they burst under Nikolai Brandon's lance. Spare me your righteous outrage."


"People are suffering as we speak. People who you profess to care nothing for. Yet they could grant you your desired victory. You ask why I am here? I shall tell you plainly. To see whether or not you are any better than the rest of your ilk."


With deliberate care, Damien removed the woman's hand from his. "It is Camila who has obtained this information, not I."
He turned his back on the woman and strode towards the exit. "I will leave it to you to decide if you want to give Ms. Thrice your intelligence."


His mind set, Damien did not look back as he left. Returning to his homeland had been a mistake. The shackles of San Quentin still hung on his heart.


Edited by Damien, Feb 4 2015, 01:18 PM.

[Jensen James]

Jessika felt like she was living in a real-world soap opera and she'd just crossed paths with the show's main villain. She was left quite dumbfounded in his absence, lips parted like she might say something, but the words never formed, her eyes wide like she didn't believe what just happened.

Damien sought her out, demanded to see her personally, made her bend over backwards to accommodate him, then treated her like she had stabbed him in the back and he was out for revenge. It just wasn't civil! More, it was bizarre! If the oddity of his behavior wasn't so shocking, Jessika would have been offended.

She hoped Camila spoke some sense. Whatever this intelligence Damien mentioned, even if she didn't share it, hopefully she made sense of all the drama!

After a quick fluff of her bouncy hair, Jess, hands perched on her hips, swiveled between looking to the door and Camila. "What!"
Was all she said. It was a rare day she was speechless.

Finally, she gathered words to her thoughts. "I gather than that you work for him in some capacity?"
She asked of Camila. In all this, she still wasn't sure exactly who Camila was in the entire scheme of things. They apparently knew everything about Jessika and her staff, but had explained nothing of the reciprocal. "It does make sense, right, that a politician's first priority is to her own country?"
Darn him to hades for getting all under her skin like this! Making her doubt her own logic. All she'd demanded was to know why she was summoned!

She tipped her neck, curious, but a good deal sympathetic. "Is he insane?'
It was what people said about him anyway. Given present behavior, the question was prudent.

[Camila]

Her back straightened a little as Jessika’s demands seemed to strike a chord with Oakland. While Camila understood the man could be rather volatile, she took it all in stride. To her, Damien was simply Damien.

Judging by Thrice’s face as the man left the two women alone, it was clear that he’d likely been a bit more intense than the American woman had expected him to be. Was Damien Oakland insane? That wasn’t a particularly new inquiry about the man. Camila herself had wondered that once or twice at first, but she’d then come to realize that at this point, she didn’t actually care. Perhaps there was a slight madness to his methods, but she actually liked the way he went about things. In any case, it had not been as if any word he’d just told Jessika was untrue.

“I don’t doubt some men think so, though I’m sure most of them do so simply because no one has stood up to them quite like this before. I like to think he is effective.”
Offering the other woman a half a smile, she stood from her place at the desk and walked over to the small showcase resting at the side of the room opposite from where Damien had first entered.

“And, I work with him, Ms. Thrice. Not for. Care for some Brandy?”
She lifted the crystal decanter in offering and picked two equally ornate and heavy glasses. “Something tells me a sip might do you so me good. As far as what makes sense is concerned, I would say that an individual’s first priority is to what is right. Their profession is merely the path by which they can do so.”
Taking the decanter and glasses, Camila returned to the desk and the other woman.

“Fortunately, I think what I can share with you benefits the people you seem to care so very little about, and your political ambitions. It all depends on you, of course. If you are too indifferent or rattled by what just happened…”
She let her voice trail off and shrugged nearly imperceptibly before pouring a small amount of the spirit in one of the glasses.

“I do have a question for you, however, how much do you know about your opposition?”

[Jensen James]

Jessika's chin elevated slightly. "Thank you dear, but I don't partake in alcohol."
Her look hinted of judgement, but she didn't say anything aloud regarding Camila's choice.

She rounded the desk to look out the window, making sure the bouncy curls of her hair were laid behind her shoulders. This was her country, and she didn't appreciate foreigners coming along and chiding her for her own proud views. Again, she kept her opinions to herself, but to work with Damien, she had to communicate with Camila. Thankfully, of the two, Camila seemed the more sensible.

"Rattled is hardly the same thing as offended, but I'm a forgiving woman. Especially when offense is born from ignorance. Some people were not raised with proper manners."


Camila's question about her opposition drew her eye. She turned away from the window, but as she did, the sunlight streaming in caught her yellow hair in a golden glowing halo. "I know everything about him. Every bill signed into law, all broken campaign promises, and the people he buys off to keep him in office."
Her look turned pensive, questioning. "You know something about him I don't. That's what Oakland meant about your intelligence."


She drummed her fingers thoughtfully, "What is it?"