The Coronation of Queen Rachel

[Rachel Ascot]

Despite the importance of the occasion, Rachel had to be dragged out of her bed by the foot.

"Franklin, what are you doing here? What time is it?" She asked her club's bouncer, personal driver and all-round henchman in all but name.

"I'm here to get you out of bed. It's your coronation day." Rachel turned her face into a pillow that she pulled towards her.

"How long until the coronation?"

"The doors are already open, Rachel. You have half an hour at best."

"Long enough to have a nap..." Came the muffled answer as she buried her face deeper into the pillow. Franklin rolled his eyes.

"Well, we managed to get the Baileys fountain that you requested, but I'm not sure how much Baileys is in there. Could be all gone by the time we..." Without another word being listened to, Rachel lurched up, wide awake.

"Well, we can't wait on ceremony!" She bellowed, stretching her arms and cracking her joints pleasurably. "Help me get ready, Franklin." Franklin simply gave a nod of agreement as the queen-to-be attempted to navigate her cluttered bedroom floor. It was difficult; plenty of pizza boxes, pieces of paper and clothes lay strewn about in a chaotic heap as she plodded in the select spots that were tidy. She had trouble with the door for all the clutter, but finally threw it aside, stepping into the much cleaner corridor, light spilling through to the large skylight that hung over her. She smiled at the sight of what occupied the corridor; her dress on a stand. Not as garish as one would imagine for a queen but certainly the fanciest Rachel had to her name. She rubbed her hands, impatient to wear it as she pulled off her shirt.

"You know, you can look, Franklin, it's nothing you've not seen before."

"Actually, Rachel, I think there's a law against it, considering your position."

"Good point. Well, could you chuck us some undies while you tell us what the plan for today is, at least?" Rachel asked. Franklin dutifully nodded, walking back into the tip that was Rachel's bedroom. He fished through her top drawer and found some black materials, casually throwing them out of the door.

"Pretty simple, once you break it down. There should be people either arriving or already at the London Minster. You go too, everyone oohs and ahhs, you get crowned, make a speech, we all move onto the club for post-ceremony drinks, you introduce yourself to and embarrass yourself in front of the world's most powerful men and we all go home." Came the quick summary. Rachel gave a little huff.

"Cheeky. Still, good business for the club. I've got a speech in my head."

"Something to assuage the old folks and Dietrich loyalists saying you're not eligible?"

"Oh I've got something for them alright. I've learnt that nothing I say or do is changing their minds, but they need to know that I'm not taking their shit lying down." Franklin raised an eyebrow. Rachel not being able to convince someone of something was an alien prospect to him. She was put on this earth to speak. "So, how do I look?" Franklin peered his head back around the door, and had to stop to take the sight in. It was an elegant satin dress but by no means simple; it looked like two separate dresses but were one at the same time. Her left side was a vibrant blue, tracing her body tightly with the skirt reaching her feet, trailing the ground like a ballgown. The right side, though, was a light purple hue, much shorter and reaching only a large belt that clung to her hips and tucked under the blue side, leaving her right leg free. Even her tights were visible, and if not for a pair of black shorts she would've been indecent. A butterfly brooch sat just under her chest, combining the two sides, made of jade and metal, a string of pearls hanging off it and attached to the similar-looking belt. She revolved a little, showing him the whole thing; one couldn't deny it was flattering to her figure, tracing her image immaculately and, for a queen, very low cut, but it wasn't without class either. In fact, it looked nothing less than both dazzling and surprisingly appropriate. Despite how odd it looked, it was actually quite beautiful, and seemed to match the insanity of geniuses that sat in Rachel's brown eyes.

"I'm thinking of pulling it down slightly, making my chest look a little bigger. Something to make people more susceptible. Thoughts?"

"You look fine as you are. It's pretty low anyway." Franklin reassured her. "Though god knows where you got it from. It's very unique."

"Oh, I just found some dresses too small for me and cut them up." Rachel answered. Franklin said nothing, stupefied, as she descended the stairs, before he followed her. However, she didn't go to the front door as he expected, but towards her kitchen. "Got some garlic bread from last night, I'll microwave that for breakfast. You want any?"

"Rachel, the coronation's in about twenty minutes, we can't..." Rachel shrugged before Franklin could complete his sentence.

"Let the attendees mingle a little. Besides, I'm going to be queen soon, I can arrive whenever I want. I want my breakfast." She answered. If a little childish, Franklin couldn't deny her logic.

"I'd like some garlic bread too." He said. "I'll stick the kettle on, get some tea on the go."

[Rachel Ascot]

{POSTING ORDER - SUBJECT TO CHANGE}

Rachel Ascot -> World Leaders -> Cretan Militants -> Anyone else -> Rachel -> Free-for-all (though post only once before Rachel) -> Rachel -> See where it goes from there

There is a signup thread that can be found in the link below. It is still available to sign up if you haven't already but you MUST SIGN UP BEFORE YOU POST! It makes working out whose turn it is so much easier. Once Rachel's second post is done, no more people will be included.

{POSTING ORDER - SUBJECT TO CHANGE}

[Yoshida Izanagi]

This land. It was odd as compared to what Izanagi had been used to. The climate change, made him feel almost out of place. Well, that was besides the fact he WAS out of place. People bustled about without much care and smiles colored faces. Rumors were whispered back and forth on what the day would foretell, though Izanagi would never contribute to the banter about such frivolous things. He was here to be seen, not to be known.

It was good well, to be seen at another country's event such as this. Though he did not know the language well enough to not sound like a fool when he spoke, he could understand everything being said. Behind him, a skinny and rather depressing man followed. An interpreter, not that Izanagi needed one to hear, but one to speak for him. The man was hard to ditch. If only it hadn't been insisted to bring this shadow of a man. How much Izanagi hated looking like an idiot in front of people and an interpreter was just that: A device to make him look stupid and uneducated. Nevertheless, he had sucked it up and agreed to it. He was never quite sure why, but it happened.

As was normal, his hair was well-groomed, flat on his face, though it had grown out a little, reaching past his ears and dangling at his chin. His eyes, determined and grey as always, were lost in thought. How was he to find his way about the area? Better yet, how could he do it without getting lost and losing his new 'friend'. It was simple, he couldn't. How annoying. He straightened his suit quickly and off he went again, heading towards where they were all meeting.

His feet clicked with his every step. The sound of sandals striking pavement and then to the grass, where he abruptly stopped and flopped into the grass. His friend stood beside him, giddy and beaming, trying to usher the man to mingle, but Izanagi found no good will at the time and instead, he awaited for something more of his interest to happen. Though it may have seemed bad, he held his blade close to him, like always. A samurai never left his blade.

[Wolfgang Murinyo]

Ah, what a nice and purdy day it was in Creta. AZnd he was in Creta for something ALSO nice and purdy, or in this case, BEAUTIFUL. This wonderful cheesecake. It was sublime, really. No, no, really, that was the flavor; it was a Sublime Lime Cheesecake, apparently, and he had no idea what it tasted like before he arrived in Creta. All he knew was it seemed tasty from Gelemort, but was only sold in one restaurant in London. So he set off, Valentino en tow, and decided to get the cake after a brief break and a nap at the hotel they'd checked into. Oh, and the royal coronation and such.

It was a... Regrettable situation, at best. He and Dietrich had gone back some ways, and the fact he was now comatose, essentially gone for good, unless some random miraculous event happened to wake him up. But, on the bright side, there was supposedly going to be a new ruler in place, which was always a good thing. Nostalgic. That was what he was being, that's the word! Ah, good times with old Diet. Dietrich, that is, pronounced D-ee-t, rather than D-iy-et. Nobody likes diets, really, even if they claim they do. Ahh, no matter, no matter! Past to past, ash to ash, and such.

Currently, he was a tad curious as to what the new Queen was to be like. Nothing really to worry with, so far as diplomatic stuff went, as Gelemort and Creta were rather nicely allied, at the very least, friendly and good. But, of course, the half of his mind devoted to maintaining good diplomacy was already planning the most strategic way to ask the new ruler about coffee at some point, without making it sound like he was asking her out. Because, of course, he realized he was not QUITE fit for dating anymore, at nearly forty. Besides, he preferred women who took initiative, the ones that'd ask HIM out. So it was obviously not going to be a date, rather,a friendly gesture. That, and he needed coffee, and he'd feel kinda awkward going to get it alone. Of course, there was Valentino, but he didn't know what kind of coffee Valentino liked, and then Bronze, but Bronze and he tended to do other wacky things, not coffee, and Alejandra, he didn't really think would care too much for the cafés he liked, however, as the parking lots were atrociously filled with ugly cars, not befitting her sexy cars. And then of course, there was Tsuritsa... Even he didn't want to go THERE... So indeed, coffee with the new Cretan queen, took a bit of priority on his agenda. MORESO, HOWEVER...

There was a new emperor guy in Aerugo, it seemed! One that he couldn't quite recall meeting, but may have spoken to before, or not. Eh, either way, he had to say hi. So he sought through the crowds, cheesecake in hand, eating as he walked, having Valentino follow along with him, per his duties; he WAS his guard, y'know. And, in this instance, his interpreter. Because Wolfy didn't speak Aerugese, hahaha! Luckily, Mr. Farese did.

Hmm... Now where could he be...? AHA! There! Near that grassy spot, nearby! Not really giving much warning, Wolfy strolled up behind him, unseen, and, as he reached the grass' center, or at least, went deeper into the rabbit-hole, called the grass-covered ground area, he made his pounce. Some who'd seen the mystical Murinyo at work before, at other events, didn't bat an eyelash, much, while some gasped, or at the least, stared wide-eyed, and pointed. It was going so smoothly! He would toats land on his back in a manly bear-hug! But, as things never work well, the emperor abruptly chose to flop down in the grass, Wolfy's eyes widening slightly, as he made a face like (8I), before landing rather awkwardly on the emperor's chest, face-first. "EEP!" So much for skill and stealth and tact? He was soon after flung off of the poor man, and leapt to his feet, in the stylings of doing a handstand and a backflip.

( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BSIQkqxuYvI Cue Kenji's Wolfy's epic theme song...? )

Brushing himself off, he stood in front of Yoshi, a grin on his face, ignoring any onlookers. Remembering his manners, he bowed rather deeply, per Aerugese traditions or something of the sort, and wound up bumping his head on his kneecap. Ouch...? Meh, he regained composure soon enough. "Hiya thar, uuuuuh... Wait, wait, I gots it... Hmm... MARIO! Ohnonowait, ah mah Guh, so sorriiiiiiiieeeees, YOSHI! Yepyepyep, you're Yoshi. How're youse on this fine day? OH! Didn't even 'member ta introduce myself to yas, I am the one they call Roí de Royaume Wolfgang Murinyo da thirdth, of Gelemort! But please, just calls me Wolfy, fer sho'te. " Hmmmm... Glancing the guy over, Wolfy noted how vureh close he'd come to landing on a sword-thing that Yoshi was holding. That... Wouldn't have been good... Looking at him again, he noticed that Yoshi and he were the same height, but that the Aerugese man looked markedly younger than he, much closer, in fact, to Valentino's age. OH! Valentino! Eh, Valentino could introduce himself if he wanted to; Wolfy wasn't wielding him like a puppet on a steek or anything. Rather, he was an INDIVIDUAL, merely tasked to be present. And to translate stuff into Aerugese, if needed. In fact, Wolfy should likely tell him that. "Oi, Tino!~ Tino, if Yoshi, thur, seems all confuzzalated and stuff, if youse could says what I say in Aerugo-ese, that'd be much appreciatabled, hm?~" THERE! Just in case poor Yoshi'd Cretan was REALLY so bad, he couldn't understand WOLFY, of all people, with such masterful mastery of the language of Cretans; he'd been taught to master the mastery of this masterful masterpiece called a language, by masters of mastering things, you see.

(~(Tino, hope you don't mind too terribly Wolfy sort of dragged Valentino along with him. ^^; Figured as his bodyguard it wouldn't matter much, but if you want me to edit it, I can.)~)

[Hans L. Reinhardt]

There was something about official events that had an air of... complete chaos. Sure, on television an event would come across as polished and official. But behind the scenes, it was multiple people running around like chickens without their heads. Everyone suspected a disaster at any moment and therefore people were always moving around to make sure nothing went wrong. Frankly, Hans detested the chaos. Luckily he was given a wide berth as he was a) very large, and b) had security to buffer off the chickens. London sparkled, polished to a gleam for the biggest event of the year. It was not everyday that a new queen was crowned. A pang of sadness hit Hans as he stepped from his black sedan in front of London Minster. It was only earlier this year that Dietrich and Hans had sat and discussed the plans for their countries. It was terrible how quickly things could change. Now Amestris and Creta would have to start fresh.

Hans moved out of the way and reached his hand down, giving support to Brigitte as she exited the car. She looked stunning, as usual. She was dressed in a well-tailored suit jacket of royal blue, with a pencil skirt to match. Her white shirt was crisp and she had a beautiful sapphire brooch at her neck. Hans, in contrast, was dressed in a dark gray suit. His shirt was also white and his tie perfectly matched his wife's outfit. He smiled down at her as they stepped onto the sidewalk and the car moved away, to be replaced by yet another black sedan. Anyone who was ANYone would be making an appearance today. Hans' gaze looked out over the lawn, where a man had just tackled another man. His mind clicked through his mental camera. Wolfgang and the new Shogun. Gelemorte and Aerugo. Interesting. But Hans did not have time to stop and make his greetings. His watch was ticking and the coronation was set to begin shortly. He casually escorted his wife into the building, pausing to take the usual photos. He was then directed to his seat. He sat, gently holding Brigitte's hand. He glanced up at the ceiling, sending a wish that this would not be a dull affair.

[Aurelius Schwartz]

"RIOTE--IT'S RIOTE RUN!!!" A brief panic. The feminine shriek carried far. Some started running. Others, being as a red sea, moved around him to the outskirts, forming a pathway as if he were Moses himself. "He's alive," they breathed, sunlight bouncing from one to the other in paralyzing shock. A still figure melded from the crowd: tall, dark, menacing even in a fully tailored suit. It was to be expected, of course. His face was all over the wanted posters; never found, but certainly sought. Well, here he was. Arms outstretched, a vicious look etched into his eyes, beholding the foul cretins just as they were. Horror laced through the crowd, a viable commotion striking a heroic pose. There he stood, dropping his arms with an amused smirk. How far had the world fallen to offer this unabated welcome? A breath passed, beady eyes caught in the headlights shown bright through the gaping black void of his corrupt soul. And nothing transpired; body guards quite aware of the etiquette offered by the thin sheet of paper clasped in his limp hand. How formidable an opponent it was... guaranteeing his life so effortlessly. Glares so bountiful, he could fill a garden to satisfy the barren Drachman tundra. Teethy sneers abound, Aurel continued his ascension into the mingling of so many officials that the air itself was stifling.

Had they known--had they known his true intentions: what he granted them with his presence, certainly the audience would be more forgiving. Alas, he was alone a midst a hoard of the fearful dull whose whispers were mute only in their minds. He heard their slews of protest, saw it in the hands reaching fervently for protection, and envisioned a time when applause would follow the tombstone. Hardly any knew who he was let alone what; his history--his records were snuffed out by time, falsified already by another with the same face. They had no idea. They had no idea what he was capable of. One of such whats was transpiring this very moment as he casually meandered up to Chancellor Hans Reinhardt. The man, fitted with quite the cliché, was avast in his activities, wife at his side. How dangerous. Raven hair trapped in wind, he allowed it to ostensibly blow, glowering across his feral gaze, tickling eyelashes. Oh, let it come. Let them notice his intention.

The hushed conversations all but faded, returning mildly to their natural state, albeit wary. But what could not be wary in the company of a man presumed to be the head of the world's most despised terrorist group? They could not arrest him. Nothing could touch him here; he was as protected had he come bearing an entire army of alchemists or chimerae alike. Pitiful planning. Perhaps they just did not know he would be coming in Vanity's place. That must be the case. What, did they think him dead? After such events, it was very possible. No, he had counted on just that. In some cases, surprise was an easy victory. In others, he was just short of risking his life all for the sake of seeing a previous him's actions through to the end. Leave no loose ends; let them justify the means. Yes, it was all happening under the closed lids of the previous King--the previous Prime minister's feeble drive for power. Lost--lost in misguided trust. How a meeting falls through--how a kiss kills, sweet, sweet luxury in fleet. Stand not before seldom; bear not the crown of bones; step over the stage to see the many eyes looking at the backdrop.

A string. Aurel stopped, yanking at the loose thread until it ripped free from his suave suit jacket. He cast it aside with a flick, seeing briefly as it landed amid a blade of grass. An inky sedan pulled away with hardly a cloud of exhaust. Vehicles of today surprised him ever the more each time he encountered one. In his wake, the mode of transportation designated as a 'helicopter' ruptured into the sky, thundering away until he required a ride back to where he currently resided. He would ride not in the endangerment of a car, risking his identity before too long. This very moment.

He stopped at Hans' immediate left, eyes stringent for contact. It was their first meeting. How very memorable. His voice dripped off pristine fangs, red and blue in complete focus, never leaving their target. "Hm, I wonder just how you manged to survive," he cooed. Was it their voiced thoughts pertaining to Aurel's continued life or a small taste of evidence that he possessed Hans' secrets in which the man did not even know himself?

[Qin Shi Xun]

The sky was the same. Just as deep, just as endless as that of his land. But that sadly was where the similarities ended. Qin gazed out around him at the endless sea of tasteless buildings that was London and felt a ping of homesickness. This land and his where nothing alike even if they shared the sky. But that one similarity brought something close to joy to the reflective mans face, one familiar thing among a sea of differences was enough for him, enough to make this unknown place less threatening and with that he was by far a more confident man. Clear your mind son, and feed everything to the flame. And so he did, all the worry, fear and remaining doubt he cast into the flames of his mind and in the time it took the flames to consume those feelings he was free. Free of all things that made a man weak. He was at peace with him self, and as he stepped out into the bright sunlight the soft clicking of cameras and near roar of the gathered crowed caused him to blink and nothing else. Then he remembered to smile and gave a gentle wave to what he assumed where reporters of one type or another.

He walked slowly almost seeming to float, his dress jade dress robes setting off the red of the carpet, as slippered feet padded towards the entrance of the building, his icy blue eyes scanning the crowd. While still being new to this worlds stage he had studied well for this event. He spotted Hans L. Reinhardt leader of the once supreme Amestris, next his eyes fell on Izanagi Yoshida the new ruler of Aerugo and with him the mad king Murinyo ruler of the Dominion. Men more powerful then any had the right to be, and he was now a part of their privileged group. He felt out of place in his traditional dress, but his pride had demanded he wear the cloths of his home land.

Still was this the pride that came before his fall? Would this have greater impact then he had first guessed? Worry over things he no longer had control over flooded him, and even as he tried to feed these thoughts to the flame still more came, threatening to overwhelm him and send him spiraling into shame. "RIOTE--IT'S RIOTE RUN!!!" The dragon blinked, his inside turmoils subsiding as s shout sounded behind him. RIOTE? That name caused him to blink again, but more in confusion then anything else. A man whos face he didn't know parted the crowd about them with no effort at all and as he walked by he could hear the whispered words that accompanied him.

Qin paid those words little heed as he watched the figure move, ganging the mans walk, the way he held him self, his unhurried pace, but most of the air that surrounded him. This it seemed was another man of power, but unlike those others around him he was here with more then mere pleasantries in mind. He walked behind him, just ahead of the wave of whispers that seemed to fallow this man.

As he found his seat so to did Qin, his own presence hardly stirring the air next to the tempest this other had incited. A storm was coming, he could feel it and he knew that the eye of it would be centered on those two who sat so close in front of him.

[Gavin Etheridge]

When work mixed with pleasure and fancy events, it ceased being any of those three and became chaos with pretty wrapping. Really, as much as they were supposed to be the pinnacle of civility and formal training, politicians and royalty all had one thing in common: you could dress them up but you couldn't take them anywhere. But, Gavin had been invited to the flashy, televised event that the Creig King was certain would be available on DVD and Blu-Ray in the next few months, and if the new Queen Elect had some impressive jewelry or gown, millions of copies with similar features would be all over the 1-800 ads, yours for just £19.99.

King Gavin had been quiet on the flight from Carraig to London, dressed to the nines in a formal kilt and bow tie, hair pulled back into a slick ponytail. A few stray curls tried to escape around the edges of his face and out from under the circlet on his brow, but as far as formal went, Gavin looked great. Now to just... put up with everyone for the night. Gavin really didn't care for going to the mainland unless he had to, and when he did go, he preferred to go to places whose former leaders hadn't been so interested in taking all of Carraig as a summer home. And this woman, Rachel.. she was to be crowned as the Queen Elect of Creta. Good family, Gavin had heard, and she'd made most of her own fortune as a nightclub owner. That was... interesting, at least. Thoughts seemed to be on a droll repeat from the private plane's landing and the quiet car ride to the palace, running the night's plan in his head like a checklist: attend, applaud, make (or avoid) small-talk, toast champagne, hope no fondue pots exploded.

The only plus side to the madness that shindigs inevitably were that that, for a change, King Gavin had a date to the function. Not an escort, and not some Lady he was trying to impress (or at least try to entertain) for a short period. Tonight, Rosaleen was joining Gavin for a coronation that all the world would see unless there were something better on TV. So while the rest of the (mainland) world wouldn't care in the slightest, the magazines in Carraig would probably have more than a few somethings to talk about. Oh, Captain Quinn would be a fantastic guard, surely, and was one of the elite soldiers of Carraig, and if she could do so in a nice dress? All the better. But there was something stunning about seeing Rosaleen dressed for the affair, and no matter how many times he let his fingers trace the words on her palm, Gavin doubted he could really tell the woman just how beautiful she was. Gavin really didn't care for leaving Carraig to come to the mainland, but at least with Rosaleen there tonight, it'd make the trip a bit less unpleasant.

Rosaleen's knuckles were lifted and kissed in the car. R-E-A-D-Y-? came the question spelled gently into her palm by the young King as the car came to a slow outside the church. Gavin's hands quickly typed at his pad. "There will be several photographers," came the heavy, mechanical voice. "But once we are inside it should be fine." One by one the cars in front of them stopped and emptied their special guests, Gavin glancing out the window before leaning to the side to sneak one last kiss for courage. A small smile tugged at his lips, a few quick, final words having time to be typed. "Thank you for coming with me tonight, Rosaleen." Gavin moved his arm to link it with Rosaleen's as the car came to a stop, the door opening for them to exit into the sea of flashbulbs. Big smiles, polite waves, listen to a dozen voices comment in different languages jumbled together. Step by step, inch by inch, they were allowed inside where an entirely different sea awaited.

Politicians, country leaders, a few celebrities of different flavours. Gavin had seen it all before through the years, and knew that all of it was fake. This was a parade with commentary; the Westminster Dog Show with Prada, and hopefully the night would go off without too many problems and be done soon. A few guests stood mingling still while escorts assisted others to their seats. Gavin looked around, praying for someone he knew and was actually on friendly terms with (which was a much shorter list than the King would have liked, but that happened). Gavin followed another attendant to their seats. It was a little exciting, if nothing else, and part of Gavin wondered if the woman about to be crowned Queen of Creta held any of the same jitters Gavin had when he turned eighteen and took the throne of Carraig. Sure, she wouldn't be allowed to show if if she did, but who could know. A playful smirk teased Gavin's mouth for a moment once they were seated, musing how they'd just got there and he was already tempted to change the channel to something else, but instead of choosing to 'voice' the comment as quietly as he could on his speech aid he moved his free hand to give a soft squeeze to Rosaleen's.

[Elastor Ito]

The odor of garlic bread wafted straight through his nostrils, tickling the back of his throat, and making him desire very much to brush his teeth (which were already pristine, flossed, and splashed with mouthwash). But just the smell--just the smell was enough to make him feel unclean, halting his steps in the ornate hallway. Frozen there in horror for just a moment it--it was five-till what was she doing?! He grit his teeth together, gripping the hem of his new Cretan Military uniform, and straightening it out. Lord Dietrich would never make his audience wait. This Rachel Ascot, she...she was entirely different than what one would expect. Working for her, well, he had to brace himself for the worst. In this instance, he didn't have a choice; he had no control over the matter. If she wanted to be late to her coronation, then she was perfectly able to without so much as a complaint from him. The frustration was piling. And at the end of the day, he knew exactly who was on his hit list: Franklin. Oh he would get hell. As much as Elastor took two steps back from confrontations with coworkers, he could not stomach a world leader being late. Inconceivable.

It not only deviated from the plan, but set back the placement of the Royal Guards who were swooping around the arena prepared for anything (except this of course). If soon-to-be-Queen Rachel was not present, then the timed movements of their team would be off by...however long it took for her to get out on stage. Mingling would then occur. Mingling. Ela hated mingling. The mere thought put a bad taste in his mouth (or maybe it was still the garlic). He turned his head to look around the corner, somewhat dreading this soon-to-be encounter. OR he could just turn around and walk the other way, disregarding the duty he was swore into as a knight for Creta. As loyal as he was, right now marching into the kitchen with a set of demands was mildly discomforting, but if not him, who? Who else would have the audacity and determination to pursue the impossible?

A whistling of a tea kettle alerted him that he was already too close to turn back. Pulling in a deep breath, he glared his way down the rest of the hallway and to the kitchen whose door was left ajar, vanquishing the soft floral scent of the air fresheners...with garlic. His glare intensified. Hand on the door, coercing it to open further to allow him passage, he first accessed the situation. And it was horrid. Franklin had fallen prey to Rachel's demands, partaking in an act that should potentially be against the law. Making leaders from around the world wait, not waking up early enough to have breakfast, being late?! It was hardly the attitude one should possess. Ela scoffed, pushing the rest of the door open and sauntering through with a deadpan look. "Captain Elastor Ito reporting for duty." He paused, frowning avidly at Franklin. You betrayed us! How were they supposed to appear to the public if the entire event was postponed because they were conspiring over breakfast in the kitchen!? He steeled himself. "Just what...are you doing...?" He glanced to the window, listlessly staring so as to not burn a hole in Franklin's forehead. Slowly, he gathered the self control enough to look back directly at Rachel Ascot. "The coronation starts in four minutes, your majesty."

[Guest]

It was the day. The very big day of the Queen's coronation. And what was Vivian doing? Well, far earlier this morning, she had gotten the lovely news that her entire family was going to be here for the event. They were nobility after all. And that had lent some difficulties to her dress today. Part of her had the brief thought that maybe she should dress like her parents and appear as another dignitary, as Lady Vivian Olivia Duchamp. But this was not her this day. This day, she was Lt. Colonel Duchamp, Royal Guard to the soon-to-be new queen. So she must cast off the vestments of being a noblewoman, and to her duty that she was so proud of. At the moment she was wandering at a very slow, casual pace outside of the palace, staring at the dignitaries as they entered. She was dressed immaculately in her new uniform, the old one that had belonged with Dietrich placed tenderly away in a closet. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a chignon with a braid leading down on either side to vanish into that bun at the base of her neck. She did place a little hair pin in her hair though, its shape that of a starburst flower, beautiful diamonds and sapphires glistening in the sunlight. There was a stubborn lock of hair that framed one side of her face, a stark comparison to her pale skin.

"RIOTE--IT'S RIOTE RUN!!" That immediately drew her attention, her eyes narrowing as she couldn't help but stiffen in the rigidity of alertness. She saw him there. Aurelius. Leader of RIOTE. She forced her body to relax and continue onwards inside, clasping her hands behind her back though her eyes continued to follow after him. She raised her wrist to glance at her watch, her eyes narrowing as she noticed what time it was. Five minutes till. Where was Rachel? Or Elastor for that matter? She gave a light sigh as she turned back towards the rest of the room, standing off to the side of all of these leaders that stood so much higher than her. Yoshida Izanagi with Wolfgang Murinyo, then Hans L. Reinhardt whom Aurelius passed by. Then there was Qin Shi Xun on his own, she did enjoy the Xingese traditional clothes. It was nice to see a King representing his people so, it showed a pride in them. Then there was Gavin Etheridge accompanied by a rather stunning woman, one she couldn't identify if she was his guest or his guard. The way that she held herself screamed military, but at the same time.... it was so soft.

Glancing down to her watch again, she frowned as it was now two minutes till, sighing very heavily as her feet glided across the floor in her boots towards some of the other guards, leaning close to their ear. "Prepare for her entrance. I can't imagine she'd make them wait much longer." With a nod, the man, Donovan his name was if she remembered correctly, went on his way to carry out her orders. Most were taking their seats, and that was when she was suddenly tackled from behind by two smaller forms. "Found--You!" Amelie and Mikhael stared up at her with grinning faces, completely dressed to the nines as would be expected of a noble house. Julian looked uncomfortable as ever in a place with so many people, and Tristan... well... He was Tristan. Her parents trailed behind, her father chuckling at his youngests antics while her mother seemed distressed about it. Vivian only chuckled as she rubbed their backs, smiling brightly to see her family there. "Well well, looking good sis." Tristan came over and gripped her shoulder, Julian trailing after him with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Good to see you." "I'm glad to see you all here. You are all looking absolutely exquisite." She began, looking up as her parents now stood before her. "You look lovely dear." Her mother, Adele began before her father, William,continued for her. "Look at all the dignitaries. Quite the show for our new queen."

"Yes, its quite the turn-out." Oi. She forgot how stressful it could be with her family around. Tristan was the one to pick up on this, not surprisingly. "Come on, lets go find our seats." She nodded thankfully to him as the group of Duchamps left her alone again, allowing her to watch the rest of the people who were filing in slowly. And now Rachel was officially a little late.

[Aaron H]

Why the hell did he have to come? Aaron wanted to sleep in and eat what was left of the bag of cheerios in his house, but NOOOO, tonight was to be spent around people he didn't know. This event was huge and all Cretan Militants were mandated to attend. Rachel was insane, or so he thought, because she certainly wasn't something he expected a queen to be. She was wild and a bit different, but whatever, he had to get paid so he had to go. When the alarm went off, it hurt his ears and he was so tempted to throw it out the window. It was unfortunate that he couldn't. If he did that, he'd have to buy a new window and he just.. didn't feel like doing that. So, instead, he groaned and rolled over. The alarm was hit roughly. That of course, didn't stop it from screeching at him to wake up. Okay, so next step? Roll to hit it and.. fall out of bed. Wait- had he gotten in bed at some point last night? The last three days had passed as a blur of lack of sleep.

his body moved instinctively, reaching up and struggling to click the snooze button, only to find he was well awake by the time he'd hit it. This meant he had to go get dressed. Like hell was he dressing fancy, but he would put on dressy-casual.

After he got to his feet, he found his way to the closet and threw the door open. His hands snatched up the nicest pair of jeans he had and the neatest shirt he had and quickly shoved them on. His feet were engulfed into nice black shoots and he tried to take a comb to his hair, but that made him look ridiculous. He shook it out and took up the next step. He had to shave. Thirty minutes later, his bowl was drained, dishes were in the sink and he was out the door. A slow step led him to the group of people assembling inside a church. Aaron was not looking forward to it and so, he took his feet to the sidewalk outside and stared a while.

[Guest]

He was tempted to stab himself, or a guest, or a dog, or the ground. Just something to liven things up.

Pancake was hanging about half a foot off the ground, his carbon tendrils embedded into the ground and hoisting him limply. He was so limp because he was, in fact, asleep, and snoring incredibly loudly. This is something he often did on guard duty, a role he treat with no respect or commitment. Apparently he had to wait for a new guy, patrol around then go to a club and make sure nothing happened. "Wonderful," thought Pancake. "Waiting for someone he didn't know, and then preventing violence rather than causing it. Perfect."

Ever since the war, Pancake had very little to do, and he was suffering for it. He wanted to go back to the days where he could grab someone's head, cave their skull in against a wall and point and laugh at the bloody mess WITHOUT getting arrested. But no, now was a time of peace. "Peace. Load of fucking shite," Pancake could only think. When others said peace, he heard stagnation. Peace was standing still. Peace was no longer advancing, and not doing anything, and not fighting! Not fighting, what a crazy ide-

"RIOTE--IT'S RIOTE RUN!!!"

"Oh thank god, something's happening!" Pancake began to wake up, rolling his head. He blinked harshly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Dropping himself to the floor, he stretched his arms out and watching into the crowd as they parted away from the army of bodyguards, hoping someone got hurt. He peered eagerly into the bustling, shifting tide of people when he heard footsteps approach him. He turned around.

A moment of silence.

"You." Pancake's finger pointed straight to Aaron. "You're supposed to be the guy I'm working with?" He peered straight at Aaron, before flicking him on the forehead, checking for the reaction. "Whatever, let's see if a fight breaks out between the great chimp crowd... and where's Rachel, anyway, she's going to be late!"

[Guest]

Much like her brother, Izanami was rather stoic today of all days as they mingled with the elite of other countries. However she had come at a different time than him. She would never leave his side, not if she could ever help it. And especially not at an event like this! He needed her here! She could actually prove extremely useful to her brother, and that brought her all of the happiness she could ever ask for. She stepped out of her taxi with some difficulty due to her clothes, but she paid and stood before the grand palace with widened eyes. Wow... How different their architecture was.... No! no distractions! She had to find Izanagi! Her brother hadn't quite.... asked... her to come.... But she had anyways, and she made sure she was dressed for the occasion. She didn't care that it drew stares, she wore a traditional kimono that was saved for high-class formal occasions exactly like this coronation.

She wove through the crowd till she reached the grass where they would be gathered to watch. She spotted a figure sitting in the grass with a man beside him who seemed to want the man to join the people around them, yet who was being stubborn about it. She beamed as she picked up the edges of her kimono enough to help her hurry along, her short hair brushing her shoulders at the wind that moved past her. She noticed that another man was approaching him, a dark haired man with a bodyguard if she was any guess who promptly fell into her brothers chest. She immediately stiffened and broke into a run, arriving just in time to see him bow to her brother after so rudely smacking into him so! Ooooo that infuriated her so! Though.... She shouldn't show it. That wouldn't be good at this occasion, no not at all. And she had no idea if her brother would really appreciate her getting angry in any case. "Hiya thar, uuuuuh... Wait, wait, I gots it... Hmm... MARIO! Ohnonowait, ah mah Guh, so sorriiiiiiiieeeees, YOSHI! Yepyepyep, you're Yoshi. How're youse on this fine day? OH! Didn't even 'member ta introduce myself to yas, I am the one they call Roí de Royaume Wolfgang Murinyo da thirdth, of Gelemort! But please, just calls me Wolfy, fer sho'te. "

She blinked twice and wanted to cringe at how he had spoken Cretan. "Oi, Tino!~ Tino, if Yoshi, thur, seems all confuzzalated and stuff, if youse could says what I say in Aerugo-ese, that'd be much appreciatabled, hm?~" Izanami felt her cheeks puff up as she suddenly swung around to stand beside her brother, ignoring how the interpreter he had asked to come with stood there with his jaw open. "He introduced himself brother, he is the king of Gelemorte. Roi de Royaume Wolfgang Murinyo the third. He says you can call him Wolfy for short." She spoke rapidly to her brother in their native tongue, whirling back around to face the king to bow politely to him though she was still a bit huffy and puffy about him falling into her brother so. "This is indeed Yoshida Izanagi, Shogun of Aerugo. I am his interpreter, Migiude or right hand, and sister, Yoshida Izanami. A pleasure to meet you Wolfy." She spoke in flawless Gelemortian with a soft smile, her hands folding together so that the sleeves hid her hands entirely in front of her belly. She was rather short compared to this man, but she didn't care! She would be here for her brother! Whether he had asked for her or not!

[Rosaleen Quinn]

Rosaleen Quinn, a mere member of Faolchú, was here.... with her King.... She could not believe that this was happening. She wasn't even here as that though! She was... his escort. His... "date." Her! There was no denying their relationship now to anyone back home, and you know what? She wasn't going to try to hide it anymore. There was no way for her to, not with how she was dressed. She too, had been rather quiet on the plane ride, making sure she didn't try to use her alkahestry while in the air. It was rather..... odd. Awkward even. She didn't like it, and that was that. Not to mention the giant turbines that kept them in the air disrupted her echolocation rather spectacularly. Her mind was completely scattered even as she had sat there so calmly during the flight and the drive over here. She had held his hand the whole drive. She was proud to be beside him so, she wasn't going to lie. And... she was extremely happy that he had asked her to accompany him as herself, not his guard.

Though this did beg a rather huge question. What was she supposed to wear?! She had been a career military woman! And then a bartender! She didn't really have any nice dresses that were worthy of a coronation in the least bit! Gavin had it easy, he had a kilt and the rest of the pieces fell together (which he did look so very handsome in). Her? She wasn't going to wear her uniform! In fact, he had told her not to! So here she was, after much searching and a surprise from her father, she sat there beside him in a stunning black dress that would have left those who knew her agape at the transformation. There was a single strap over one shoulder, sloping around her ample bosoms till it made a thin band. Then much of her lower back was exposed, her long, fiery red hair left to flow free around her shoulders. She was grateful for its natural wave as it framed her face, a simple velvet ribbon tied about her neck. She wore spaghetti strap heels, the feathers of her skirt soft against her legs. God... she was a woman tonight. That was a little weird.

It wasn't until the drive that she began to use her alkahestry again, turning her head towards Gavin as she could feel him lift her hand to place a gentle kiss there, fingers then tracing letters in her palm. A simple question, was she ready? She smiled softly as she turned her head towards him, "I think so." The car slowed to a stop. She was used to photographers being around, some had been at the battlefields she had fought upon in her younger days. Hell, one time she had to escort a group of reporters and the like. But... then again.... it had never been under circumstances like this, with the rumors that had followed them from their island home.

"There will be several photographers," She nodded once, "But once we are inside it should be fine.". Oooo, this was silly! Her nerves were starting to act up now of all times! She could feel her pulse begin to quicken, returning that quick little kiss with some relief. She wasn't alone here though, she had Gavin, and that made everything alright. And she couldn't help it, the kiss made her smile, he made her smile. "Thank you for coming with me tonight, Rosaleen." "Of course Gavin. There is no where else I would rather be, than at your side." Oi.... sappy... but it was the truth. Funny how often those two things came together hm? The car door opened, and the rapid clicks began. Oh my goodness the amount of clicks.... She smiled to those around her and nodded to them, grateful that she was blind at this particular moment so she didn't have to see all of those flashing lights. And, of course, THIS was when she really felt apprehensive about how she appeared. Her uniform? Fine. But like... THIS?! Oh god.... She actually gave a damn.

But then she felt the warmth that was Gavin with his arm linked in hers, and all of those nerves? They just.... dissipated into nothing. Let them take their shots. Let Gavin's family hate her back home. Take THAT Maria! Take THAT Brendon! She could "see" through her alkahestry how many people there were here, not that she would probably recognize any of them. It had been years since she had traveled to any other country for an extended period of time, not counting this most recent time when she had owned that bar, and even then she hadn't interacted with anyone other than her unit at the time really. Following after Gavin, she glanced around with some interest, though many details were lost to her, smoothing out her dress as she sat down beside her love. His hand came to rest on hers, causing her expression to soften as she leaned towards his ear a little bit. "Having any flashbacks to your coronation?" She asked him quietly with a small chuckle, her thumb bending back to stroke his hand gently, affectionately.

[Tsuboi Ryūji]

He followed Yoshida round ever since they had left the hotel. Dress nice had been the order which had given Ryuji the biggest headache he could image. He spent ages staring at his clothes which only made him feel smaller. All he had were t-shirt and jeans then his usual armoury and under clothes. Non suitable for a queen coronation. He really didn't want to be a disappointment to his lord but he felt limited. Luckily Yoshida had saved him by having brought a smart uniform.

Getting it on had been a completely different story. How he hadn't ended up crying at the man's door no one would know. In the end Izanagi himself had to come help him. The hour or so they spent trying to tame the red mess he called hair ended in surrender sticking the bandanna back on. Which Ryuji couldn't help but sit there with red cheeks as Yoshi gently tided for him.

Finally at the event Ryuji finally realised how small these things made him feel. He deflated sulking behind his lord who looked so regal. The languages people spat out around him made him self conscious as he had no idea what they were saying. And even in Yoshida's smart suit that was almost the spitting image of the man's but with a red and gold trim he felt like some ruffian. He must of looked like some pampered tramp. So pouty lip and tail between his legs he just followed Yoshida and kept some attention alert in case.

The man collided into Yoshida brought Ryuji out of his stupor only to leave the guard mouth open jaw almost on the floor as he did acrobatics acts in the crowded room. Bowing deeply infront of them the man opened his mouth and. "Ihya hrta, uuuuuh... Iawt, iawt, I tgos it... Hmm... MARIO! hooonoiawt, ah amh ugh, so ierrrrrrrrrrrrrsssss, YOSHI! Ypeypeype, uor'ey Yoshi. Whr'oe syuoe no ihst feni yad? OH! Tndi'd vnee 'bemmer ta unckgrdoe yfssgrlf to ysa, I km tle one hyte alcl -insert unintelligable mess-, of Moltget! Ubt lepsae, sujt alcls me Ywfol, efr toh'se.”

The...the hell was that. Ryuji stood there wide eyed. His brain still smoking as the cogs turned like mad trying to under stand what was said. "uj, ;luhg!~ jdsj, oo Yoshi, tdgjr, hgjiew poiu sdfghjklghjk ercd ohyrw, jhe dfgh wholfeq ihrur kjvk I fwe os awdoiofjiwfqpi, [pfuo 31`u [0vsa [gfe9uwfe9, hm?~" He swore he felt ready to cry. He could start wailing now and have Yoshida gut him for being a huge...er embarrassment. Looking at his lord he couldn't help but marvel at how regal he looked.

But then Izanami appeared like an heavenly angel to save him. Swooping into her brother right hand side while Ryuji just stood at the back like the unneeded accessory he was while she spoke softly to her brother. "He introduced himself brother, he is the king of Gelemorte. Roi de Royaume Wolfgang Murinyo the third. He says you can call him Wolfy for short." He sighed defeated as he looked down. He shouldn't be here making a fool of himself in front of all these fancy people. Maybe he should just slip out and wait by the car till it was over. After all Yoshida had his sword and Izanami had her language skills.... He sighed again and watched wondering when a good moment to slip out would be.

[Nyx]

Nyx trailed along, keeping close to Aurel. Not one to generally be quite this clingy, she was usually rather self-sufficient; alas, the paparazzi were ALL over this one. Any cameraman who was risky enough to tail Aurel, international most wanted #1, was doing exactly that, snapping picture after picture with their bright flashy cameras. Nyx hated it so... Her eyes, given her chimeric nature, were delicate, sensitive to the flashes, and she had to hold them closed so tight that when she opened them, they'd always linger in darkness. She was therefore trying to keep up with Aurel by sense of touch, not daring to open her eyes too often. Hearing enough of the flashes, she irrately turned to one of the men, kicked him as hard as she could in the shin, causing him to drop his camera and cry out in pain, and glared at the rest, the flashes having stopped temporarily. "Stop taking pictures, go away! Shoo, shoo!" Waving her hands in the air, she blinked and shook her head, flustered a bit, as one last photo was snapped, probably by some arrogant moron who'd wanted a picture of the crazy little girl who had to fight all of Aurel's battles for him, behind the scenes, because he was secretly allergic to radioactive jellyfish found in coimmon everyday objects. Furthermore, Aurel and the girl were probably cousins, and most likely married, in secret. At least, that's what the most outlandish of the gossip magazines would say. Idiots.

Carrying on, she gave Aurel some more space now, content that the photographers were gone, banished by her rather rude actions, and followed him through the mingling crowds, as she rubbed at her eyes, still slightly off-set by the bright flashing lights. Some lady screamed, probably terrified of Aurel, and Nyx heard a few people panic and run away. Looking up at Aurel, she noted he was perfectly calm, basking in it, in fact. That was very Aurel-ish. Nyx hadn't really been actively seeking proof that Aurel was himself since their talk, but the occasional reassurance was a good thing. The fact that he was acting like himself was a plus too; he seemed to be sliding back into his groove, which made Nyx happy, seeing him in a good mood like today.

In addition, Nyx was actually kind of glad to be at the coronation. Like many, many, many little girls, she had, at one point or another, wanted to be a princess. And, of course, she kind of was, unlike most of the other little girls with similar wishes. Dressed up in a pink dress, adorned with carnations and pink roses, with fluffy lace at the bottom, it certainly befitted a princess. Then, of course, there was a sense of royalty that came with well... being surrounded by it. Leaders of most nations, if not all nations, were present, and with them came family, friends, and their bodyguards. In addition, there were noblemen, rich people, and other high-class personalities. And above all, Aurel was present. To Nyx, Aurel was king of the world; he certainly fit the role. So, by extension, shouldn't she get to be princess of the world? Mmhmm, she could say that.

Not out loud, though; for one, it'd seem random, from out of nowhere, kind of awkward, and a bit too conceited. But also, Aurel had stopped near the Amestrian chancellor. As Nyx approached beside Aurel, she nodded politely to Hans, not really bothering to speak. Aurel spoke to him, in that soft tone of his, a chilling voice that may well have scared people, were they not strong enough of heart to hear it. Or at least, Nyx saw it that way. Well, not in relation to herself; she was used to it, she liked that voice. The words were certainly interesting, though, as it was, indeed, a bold statement; even Nyx knew that much. So she inquired Hans with large eyes of purple, a curious expression written on her face, wings folded back, hands behind her. How DID you survive? Not that she knew exactly what it was he HAD survived, that is.

[Guest]

Screams, shouts, people in fear. How delightful. Despite how much they despised him, they sure showed their respect, making sure not to get his clothes dirty or to stand in his way to trip him. At least, that's how Tatyana saw it. The mass of people quivered and whimpered like pathetic infants without their mothers or rather a sad child being caught in the act. Tremble, move away from sight. So misguided most people were. Her nose twitched at the Creta air. She visited here just recently to catch up with a friend of hers and as requested, she would come along to the coronation. Right now, Creta was more of her home, while she was being analyzed. She couldn't blame anyone for their suspicions of her. No file were around, head social security number was unregistered, her birth certificate hadn't been brought for obvious reasons, but her license was legitimate. It was the only proof she really needed and yet, it too could have been forged. Now was not the time for such thoughts.

Tatyana trailed behind Nyx and Aurelius, keeping her keen eye open for this family of hers. That was right, this was her family, though they hadn't accepted her fully yet. She couldn't blame them, either and it wasn't like she could share the memories she had in her head. Some spots could not be touched or the whole world she knew would be unraveled and that would just be- most unfortunate. Still, she had to go back home sometime, but for now, she was caught up in her miniature loop. Most people would die to be in the past, but truly it was a complex matter she disliked getting sucked up in. She was nearly done with errands, she'd have to confront Aurelius soon, to go home.

Nevertheless, she was a bit enthused to attend the coronation of Queen Rachel. Who had been before her? It had been D-something? Tatyana read up on it in her history books, but the name didn't flip a switch. She'd think of it later. Strange how things in her classes had never bothered her before this, but now, she was sucked into some strange world still building hers. Again, her mind was wandering, her hands moving to dust off her dress.

Brilliant dark colors, a misty rose color, mixed beneath a jacket of shining dark gray. Her dress itself clung tight to her chest then slid down her waist, giving a tight, but loose fit. A pattern of swirls crossed only half of her lap and looked like a breath of wind on the dark rose fabric. The fabric hung to her knees and the jacket just barely pressed to her stomach. Today she'd given her hair a bit of a curl, made herself presentable. The most important thing to wear, was her smile. The gentle and mischievous grin she had never spoke of anything. Even as the paparazzi trailed them and flashed pictures, she said nothing, didn't bother looking at them and simply walked, as if she'd practiced this whole her life. In an odd way she had, but this was different.

At last lovely Nyx had turned and gave them a what-for. Poor Nyx, Tatyana could tell the lights were flashing and burning her eyes. Tatyana couldn't help but laugh lightly at Nyx's fury at them. They seemed to make a line straight for a man who looked over. Tatyana had seen him before in her books before. He was a bit more familiar to her mind; Chancellor Hans Reinhardt. Now this was a find for her, akin to meeting someone nearly famous. He was akin to the famous leaders of Amestris in the past. How.. interesting. "Hm, I wonder just how you manged to survive," Aurelius had asked. Tatyana simply mused. This conversation had meaning she couldn't place, so she just stood there, one arm over her chest and the other cupping her chin. A thoughtful look glazed her face, watching and waiting, while making sure to stand close to Nyx. Funny how roles could change so easily. Tatyana had never been an older sister before, but the situation clicked swiftly, she felt the protective instinct and she would make sure that no one tried bothering either of them, while conversations would be had. It wasn't like anyone WOULD try anything, but she had no reason to believe they wouldn't.

[Spade Aeries]

Snazzy suit? Check. Awesome shades? Check. Hair gel and sweet-ass cologne? Check. He was goin' in style tonight, baby. Except Shu was missing; not missing per say, just that she wasn't here. Right now. With him. Really, after re-encountering Alisa the other day, he was practically attached at the hip to the short Ishvallan (which would be awkward. Definitely). Bring your fiancé to work day? Yes. It happened. Except no one really knew they were engaged. Until he blurted it out by accident offhandedly. Spread like wildfire it did, and he was commissioned by a six pack of blue moon to stand on top of a filing cabinet and announce to all of South City HQ over the loud speaker that he and Shula Brighton were getting married. ...Yeah. He was really drunk that night. Passed out wearing gloves on his feet and had somehow obtained a lime green streak of hair dye in the brighter section of his dirty blond hair. Sun bleached bastards, why'd they have to turn lighter and influence his drunken mind?! Genius. Let's add some crazy color BECAUSE I CAN. Noooo. It didn't work like that, Spade. He was starting to really sound like some PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) junkie. But in all honestly, he felt looser (after the hangover). Because, like, there was just this thing about announcing positive things to a bunch of people that kind of made him happy. He didn't really know why, but he was grinning like a fool right now because of it.

He lit up a cigarette the second he exited his limousine, fashionably late as always. His old, plain, beat up, gone-through-hell-and-back, dented Zippo flipped closed with that classy metallic click that potentially fucked with people's minds. Just not today. He was just smoking today. No inception of any sort. Mingling like a smokestack in lucid sky no longer lucid. Glancing up at the blue, he sucked in a rush of nicotine. Ah. Just like that. He let fall his jade green eyes, looking down and to the side of his polished black dress shoes. Oh regal red carpet, why so cliché? He hardly fit in with the crowd of pretentious, grandiose, high strung--hah! He guessed that was why they were called high society. Made perfect sense. However, with high society came...quality booze. HELL YEAH BRING IT ON. What, you guys thought he came to accompany Chancellor Hans to make sure he was out of danger from a man that was supposed to be dead so why the fuck was he standing right there next to Hans looking smug!? FUCK. Aurelius was alive?! What--just what? What was this? H-how? He...he saw the man get shot--no, he saw the man SHOOT HIMSELF on the top of Central Head Quarters like a deranged fuck. Did this man ever die?! He had inklings. Like, how could a primpous bitch like Vanity manage to take control of Fort Briggs and outsmart someone as keen as Daigoro Ito? And then trap them all in Drachma, kill them in a way their bodies can't be recovered, and then capture the rest and hold them in the fort as prisoners of war? Really? Vanity? No, it just didn't fit her description. No one except that man right there could outsmart the Briggs Brigade. Needless to say North City was a little dangerous right now. They had their work cut out for them. But right now...he really needed a drink.

Funeral after funeral. Now a puny paper protecting that immortal of a man--that ferocious undying foul exposition of a human being. By god, he sure hoped that hand didn't dare touch the Chancellor. Don't make him incept the bastard again (it worked last time). No, he'd do far worse this time. Even if he didn't like the ice queen of Fort Briggs, he still respected her. And that redhead of hers was brilliant in scheming. They were a good team. It was bridging on fuck-that-puny-paper-saying-we-can't-kill-Aurelius to the point were Spade was strangling his box of cigs. God, he hoped he didn't crush any of the expensive pieces of-- Like a holy light shining down upon his ravaged mind, the bar came into view. Or perhaps those were just the cameras flashing, but still! His eyes lit up and he essentially beelined it. What were all these people doing if not indulging themselves on the selection?! It was a waste; alas, more for him.

[Guest]

The rungs of the Hind below touched onto the ground and the craft made a few tremors before becoming still, naught but the gently-slowing whirring of the rotors above and the crisp burning of the cigar in the revolutionary's hand accompanying the atmosphere. The smoke drifted from his nostrils and his mouth with a slow and almost calm outwards movement, not so much a thick cloud, but numerous grey-black tendrils.

A hearty chuckle rose from his chest, and the man shook his head as the rotors stilled, and Noman Z. Godslayer, the revolutionary, and the honoured guest, looked out over the skyline. "Creta." He stated, shaking his head and standing up, cigar held firmly between his lips, long black hair hanging over his synthetic eye and the sun refracting off of his glimmering, olive complexion. "How I loathe this place." The revolutionary grunted, and the faintest twinkle of an exasperated smile pierced the grumpy-commander facade.

He looked to the pilot and inclined his head, nodding. "Get out. See the sights. Taste the fine, bland cuisine that London has to offer. Enjoy yourself, Mitya." He smirked. "Cause I sure as hell won't." With that, he leapt from the floor of the helicopter down onto the helipad, grasping his white longcoat as he flung his body, and pulling it on over a flexible and yet somehow 'stylish' kevlar vest beneath it, painted a dull grey-white, over a white shirt and black tie hanging down. Practical, yet warm, comfortable, and more pointlessly formal than he was used to - or pleased with.

They'd landed on a great helipad around three miles away from the coronation. Mitya, garbed in his own semi-formal clothing, quickly sidled away into the building and began his descent down to the ground floor, whilst Noman looked out over the "greatest city in the world", the capital of his birthplace, and a country he held nothing but spite and hatred for.

So, why did he hate it? This was a country that had birthed him. That had made him, forged him in the grand inferno of battle and war. Surely, for as far as he had come: he should have been grateful. And not a day went by that he didn't consider this quandary: but all-too-quickly, it had been stamped out.

From the outset, Creta had been a country racked with controversy and turmoil. There was no peace, no nature, no simple adoration: beneath the city in Carraig and the infrastructure, you had rolling green hills, great forests, and the coasts. Underlying the Esparian regime was golden sand and true inner sanctity. Even underneath Drachma's boorish leadership was a land so freezing yet so peaceful and calm. But no matter where you ventured in Creta, the relentless boots of humanity had trampled over almost every last square inch of nature: it hadn't become a network of cities and towns and communities. All Creta had to its name was industry.

It was a country that had birthed him, then murdered his family. Accepted him into its military ranks, then cast him out when he lost his arms. It was a country that paid no respect to the underclass. It was capitalism at its worse, where everyone lusted for more and no-one could truly be content. It was such an ignorant society that didn't care for the downtrodden and the depressed. And after you've been at both ends of the spectrum, suddenly, "the great Cretan dream" loses its lustre and shine.

This was the country that had birthed him from its great womb of industry then killed him before he was even able to fully spread his wings.

He took the last pull of the cigar and exhaled the thick smoke into the summer winds - even in July, upon the skyscraper, the gales were harsh in London. He spat out the smoke as if it were some vile poison, even being in Creta worsening every experience dramatically, and then used his thumb and forefinger to flick the end off the cigar off the edge and down into the network of cars, buses, and ignorant businessmen below.

Then he turned on his heel and began to make his way down to the lobby. It was time to make his appearance: and once he had done that, he could promptly leave.

[Jay Furor]

Ahhhh, limos. Limos were niiiiiiiiice. Creta was niiiiiiiiiice. It was so niiiiiiiiiiiiice here, where all the Cretans were niiiiiiiiiiice. No, Jay didn't want to massacre them all. Jay was being niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice. Nice, nice, nice, nice, nice! NICE NICE NICE!!~ She didn't WANT to be nice, of course!~ But Hans SPECIFICALLY told her to be nice, so she would be! She needed to forgive Creta anyways, it was like, the past, and if EVERYONE ELSE IN AMESTRIS had gotten over it, she should too. WAR IS FOR BUT AN INSTANT, WHILE BOOZE-INDUCED HAPPY IS FOREVER~ She stepped out of the nice limo onto the nice red carpet, directly after Spade. Spade looked nice. He was a sharp-dressed man, after all, and for that reason, among others, Jay admired him to pieces. And look at her! In an elegant, but still sexy, red dress, with one of those nice orange silk scarves slung over her shoulders, she looked FASHIONABLE. Not to mention the nice gold bangles and the diamond necklaces. To top it all off, she had ear rings of ruby, and totally looked (or rather, felt, and possibly looked) like a model, right off the runway.

As she stepped out of the vehicle, leaning on a crutch, thanks to the jeep and all, she waved and grinned at her ADORING FANS. Or rather, the fistful of photographers wanting pictures of everyone. And within moments, fancy waiters walking around handed her a flute of champagne!? Oh, this was the life... She could get used to high society. Sipping her champagne, which WAS so crisp, she tailed along behind Spade as he headed towards-ish Hans, or at least, stared at him and Aurela lot. OH. Aurel was there? Neat. She coulda swore he'd died, but then again, she hadn't seen it. Hospital and all. She was half-tempted to wave, but she DID, of course, recall the fact he'd KIND OF, bombed the holy crap out of Amestris, so it'd feel a little awkward. Oh, and the fact Spade seemed ready to butcher him, even then. Hans was likely thinking the same. AH WELL. She deigned not to wave at Aurel. Instead, she glanced at Spade, taking a sip more of champagne, thus emptying the flute, and waving her glass for a refill.

Noting that he was OBVIOUSLY deeply in thought or something, brooding about Aurel being there, no doubt, she took a sip of champagne and, with the pinky finger of her glass-holding hand, as her other hand was holding her steady on her crutch, she poked Spade's shoulder, grinning at him as cheerfully as if she were NOT in the land she had wanted to set on fire since... well, time ago. "SO~ Spadey-bro! I notice you don't have any of this fine champ, yet?~ You need to get some, we totally have to toast for you and Shu~" Ahh, yes. Spade and Shu's love for one another was made erm... WELL. Rather public, actually, after Spade drunkenly announced it at South. Word travelled like wildfire, indeed, so Jay heard of it not too long after. A waiter came by once more (God, she loved them!), and refilled her glass, as well as handing Spade a flute of champagne, per Jay's request. Raising her's, she grinned; "To the awesome dude in front of me, about to get hithced!~ And considering it IS Shu, make that the totally lucky awesome dude in front of me!~"

[Rachel Ascot]

(TLDR version: AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHH 5K WORDS OF MADNESS!)

Franklin didn’t feel that bad about allowing Rachel to indulge in her breakfast before Elastor showed up. He too hadn’t had anything to eat today; he was too nervous. Though still under her employ, Franklin felt as if she was his best friend; certainly the person he spent most of his time with. Even his girlfriend seemed to come second in the list of priorities to Rachel. The fact that she was becoming queen was what worried him; would she change? What were her plans? Her goals? Her skill didn’t worry him too much; she was quite petty at times, but she wasn’t stupid. He felt she was up to the task, but she was too wild to accurately predict what she would do. So when Elastor walked in, Franklin was immediately reminded of where Rachel was supposed to be.

"Captain Elastor Ito reporting for duty." He paused, frowning avidly at Franklin. Franklin frowned back. "Just what...are you doing...?"

“I’ve seen her when she’s hungry. Sometimes, it’s best to let her win.” He said with a resigned shrug. Rachel’s eyes shot daggers at her driver.

“You cheeky bastard! I write your paychecks!” She said, though garlic bread was still in her mouth so it sounded like “Oo heemph mmm’mph! Mmm mrrrp mrrr mayhumm!”

"The coronation starts in four minutes, your majesty."

“Well, we can get there in three minutes after I’ve finished.” Rachel said, finishing her chewing. Franklin stopped eating.

“Actually, I think that’s impossible, Rachel. We need to move now, and even then we’ll still be pretty late.” The nightclub owner rolled her eyes.

“Urrgh! Why do I put up with this?” She asked no one in particular, standing up and growling irritably. She grabbed the pizza box the garlic bread was in. “Fine, I’m going. I’m taking this with me though.”

Franklin resignedly nodded, knowing that things would just get worse if he said no. He stood up and led both Rachel and Elastor out of the penthouse and into Rachel’s private limo. The moment she got into it, though, she pressed her face into the largest seat and curled up into a ball, falling back into a sleep and providing the others in the limo a view that left little to the imagination for most of the long drive. The only way for Franklin to wake her up was to charge recklessly into the first speed bump he found, sending the queen tumbling into a blue and purple heap on the floor. “I take it you want everyone to see your ass when we get there?” Franklin asked. Rachel sat back on her seat, arms crossed.

“Well, I’d be flattered if they wanted to, but I see your point.” She sighed reluctantly, before looking to Elastor. “So, what’s got a bee in your bonnet? I get it, being late’s not the queenly thing, but I don’t see why you’re so nervous.” She waited for a second, then offered him the box of garlic bread. “Did you want some bread too?”

“Miss Ascot?” Franklin very suddenly stopped the car. “We’re here, but the crowd’s not moving.” Rachel smiled.

“I can walk, don’t worry. How much time do we have before I’m late?”

“You were late ten minutes ago.”

“Splendid.” The queen said, gleefully opening the door and getting out. “Park up and I’ll see you in there. Don’t miss the speech.” Franklin nodded.

“Oh shit she’s going to do something crazy.” He thought. What he said instead was “Certainly… your majesty.” He had a joking hint to the way he said it, giving Rachel reason to smile even wider. Franklin let Elastor out, then drove away. Rachel nodded to the captain, before taking another bite of the garlic bread.

“Well Captain Elastor Ito, get everyone ready to direct people to the club after I’m done with my speech. I might need someone to come with me when I have a chat with the world’s leaders; you’re free to choose who.” She explained, before ripping into the last piece of garlic bread she had. She wolfed it down hungrily, then handed him the cardboard box. “And find a bin for that, would you? I’d do it myself but… well…” She pointed to the bustling crowd. “- duty calls, you know?” And with that, she turned around. One of the first things she saw as she began to move towards the church was Aaron and… some guy with automail arms. Like Doctor Octopus. If she ever met him, she’d have to call him Doctor Octopus. She did wave at Aaron, hoping to get his attention, but carried on into the crowd.

“It’s her!” People gasped the moment she got close, and they went silent. No whispers. No mumbling. Even the journalists stopped speaking. It was as if the entire world had been silenced. Slowly, but surely, the crowd parted, like they had for the world leaders and their entourages of bodyguards or interpreters or cabals, but it was Rachel alone who made them move. She smirked slightly.

“I could get used to this treatment.” She said. Her steps were slow, but every single one seemed to make an explosion of noise. The tarmacadam of the street became the stone slabs of the minster, every step she took echoing as all the eyes of the world shifted to the blue and purple woman. Her gaze travelled. There was the deranged king of the Dominion. Speaking to him was Yoshida Izanagi, a fellow virgin to royalty, and his interpreter, and the other new ruler Qin Shi Xun of Xing. There was the Silent King of Carraig and Reinhardt of Amestris, both men who had seen the other men of their time fall from power so recently. Interestingly, Vanity was absent, but her pet Aurelius was. A shame, thought Rachel; a feminine touch would’ve been a nice familiarity in the conversation to come. There were many other guests, equally important to their rulers and just as colourful, from all corners of the globe and all walks of life. All of them, here. For her. Rachel had to remind herself to chill her nerves, but she walked to the choir of the minster, the raised platform where a great icon of power sat.

The Throne of Creta. A pretty unassuming wooden chair, but it was still the seat from which the world shifted.

“Would the heir to the throne please be seated?” Came a booming voice. Rachel turned to a hooded man, red robes reaching the floor. She sat on the gold chair. Although it wasn’t very comfortable, something felt both great and terrible about sitting on it. Electricity ran through her. The red-hooded man turned away from her. “Would the congregation be seated?” With that, everyone in the church sat down as well, in uniform timing. The man looked to Rachel, who suddenly felt rather small. “Rachel Ascot. Would you please recite after myself?”

“I will.” She said, deciding not to break tradition over her knee. Not yet, anyway.

“I pledge my allegiance to the people of Creta.” He began, and every time he paused, Rachel repeated his words. “I shall serve the people as they serve me. I shall not lead them astray, I shall not contradict their wishes. I shall do all for the people, I shall do for all people. I will protect this land in times of peace, I will fight for this land in times of war, and I will heal this land in times afterward. I shall do this in Creta’s name and in Creta’s will.” When she said the last words, the man turned around, looking to a tiny stand. On it was a pillow of the most royal purple, and atop that was a small, unassuming circlet. The crown. He put his hands on the pillow and carried it, careful not to touch the crown itself, before he brought it in front of Rachel. She looked at him. The hood obscured him from the crowd, but she could finally see his face, and fought not to laugh at his awful comb-over.

“And with these pledges, I now pronounce that you, and only you, have the right that has been passed on for centuries; the right to wear this crown, and take the duties as Queen of Creta.” Rachel didn’t react for a second, coolly peering at the crown. It wasn’t garish, but managed to be grand simply by the history that it carried. She carefully placed her fingers on the gold. It was cold to touch, but she didn’t react, placing it onto her head. It didn’t fit perfectly, as it was a bit bigger than she expected and she had to straighten it a little, but it eventually fitted onto her head. “Rise, Rachel the First, and make your first speech to your people.” Rachel looked forward, to the podium that ominously towered over everyone in the minster, including her. She stood from her throne, now a queen, and walked over. “Now for the hard part,” She thought, summoning a piece of paper. She stood to the podium, and cleared her throat.

“Cretans and all others.” She began. “I accept this honour that you have bestowed on me. I shall serve Creta and lead her… her…”

She stopped. Everyone else began to mutter when she did. Was something wrong? Could she not read it? What happened? Franklin looked to her, a faraway figure at the door of the minster, and suddenly a chill went down his spine, fearing that she was about to mess it up.

“… lead her through these dark times and bring her prosperity to…” She then stopped again. More mutters. What was happening? Her brow furrowed heavily, frustrated. Then something happened that silenced everyone. Even the birds outside stopped singing and the traffic stopped chugging.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this with a straight face.” She said, looking annoyed, before tearing the speech in two. Then she ripped it again, anger in every rip, before she scrunched the thing into a messy ball and hurled it into the crowd. It smacked Aurelius on the head, and then bounced onto Yoshida Izanagi. Rachel grinned at this, fist pumping subtly. While everyone else was stupefied, Franklin could only bring his palm to his face. This was part of the speech. She was going to do something insane.

“Those words? They were written for me!” She barked angrily, pointing to where the crumbled piece of paper landed. No one spoke up. “Not by someone I hired! Not by an orator, or a speechwriter! You know who wrote it?” She smirked. “I don’t know either. Probably some intern. I was sent it last night, from the House of Lords. It was a list of things I could and couldn’t say. One of them was that I couldn’t mention the word Irn Bru! For fear of Barr! One of the people who wrote that piece of shit list has a major company in the soft drinks industry to thank for his wealth. With that in mind,” Rachel stopped to reach down. Out of nowhere, it seemed, she pulled out a can of Irn Bru, opening it. “Bottoms up.” She said, before taking a long chug of the drink. Franklin moved around the crowd, trying to get as close as he could to her. “That’s what these people think the world is; a list of dos and don’ts, written up by business moguls and lords and ladies and the rich!”

Rachel paused to let this beginning sink in, taking another swig of her drink, and then casting a gaze across the crowd. Her eyes focused shortly on each and every one of the world leaders, then back to the crowd as a whole. She visibly calmed down, not seeming as angry anymore.

“Allow me to share with you something that I’ve only realised recently.” She began again, “And I only noticed it recently because it’s only happened recently, and many people don’t want to see it, but it’s true… the world’s changing. I feel that I’m evidence enough to that effect.” She stopped to take a breath. “Dietrich was a smart man, and a great king. He was cunning, ruthless and brutal, but he served Creta well. Royalty was in everything he did, and everything he said. He had plans for Creta that were tragically cut short.” She then gestured to herself. “I’m younger than him. I’m probably not as smart as him. I’m not even supposed to be here. I wasn’t very good at school, in fact I was really lazy. I’m a nightclub owner without royal blood in me, and a woman at that. While I was able to get enough support to be voted as queen, there’s plenty who think that only old, white skinned men who happened to be born a prince should ever wear this crown. And here I am.”

Franklin stopped just short of the choir, about a metre or so away, in the shadows and watching. Rachel’s eyes held a great deal of sincerity, and he honestly couldn’t tell if she acting or not. It didn’t even look rehearsed, as if she was honestly making it up on the spot and meaning every word.

“I’m here and Dietrich’s not. Here’s what happened to Dietrich, what really happened to Dietrich.” Rachel’s gaze suddenly snapped to Aurel, and the entire room shook. Even the walls seemed to back away. No malice was in Rachel’s eyes, but everything seemed to get colder. “Drachma attacked because one man went on a ridiculous quest that he decided was far more important that the lives of his people, and the people of everyone else around him. He sent the world spiralling into chaos, and then shot himself. Looking better, by the way, Aurry.” Rachel chuckled, pointing to her skull in about the same place Aurelius shot his own. “Like what you’ve done to hide it. No one would even guess. You need to tell me how you do your hair, you must've been a hairdresser in another life.” She shot a grin at him, then carried on.

“Why did he do it? I don’t know. Why did Drachma go down this road of bloodshed, destroying themselves and the world, only to turn away and go home? I don’t know. What started this whole mess? I don’t know. I think we were all acting pretty stupid those few months, it was a weird time for everyone. But I’ll come back to that. What happened to Dietrich was that he laid a trap.” She looked around the room, every single person within gobsmacked. She had just called the World War people were still healing from ‘stupid’, and was making friendly jokes to the man who had begun it. Franklin was tempted to charge forward, but she seemed to know what she was doing. “Dietrich laid a trap, thinking that he could crush the Drachman forces in the palm of his hand as they marched through our cities just to attack Amestris. He let RIOTE walk in, the trap backfired, and he was put into a comatose state. I don’t doubt the genius of the trap, and I’m not going to call Dietrich a bad king. He wasn’t, but here’s a question; why trap them at all? Why not negotiate? Why not bring Hans, Vanity and himself around a table and talk this out? If not that, why not hit Drachma back before they came into the country? Why not bring the fight to them? Why not react, whether with peace or with violence? Why stand still and hope he could twist them into his palm?”

She paused, letting everyone consider the question as she gauged the reactions of everyone. Some were frightened that she had gone insane, some were insulted that she critique Dietrich’s rule, but most were curious and contemplative. She had asked the world a question, and many were genuinely looking within themselves for the answer.

“And here’s that revelation I had. Dietrich fell not because he wasn’t smart enough to see the other options, but because he wasn’t allowed to. It wasn’t in the rules. It wasn’t in the list of dos and don’ts. He still saw things as Creta versus the world, as Aurelius sees RIOTE versus the world, and everyone else from this world that is now gone. We do attack and chronically backstab each other. We don’t work towards a better world as a singular united people. We do let huge conglomerates and businesses feed off our people like leeches. We don’t consider our actions in a global sense, but only in our own tiny pockets. We do try to trick each other into doing what we want, gently squeezing their balls until they bow to our demands. We don’t fight for our people, or for all people, whether we’re Cretan or Drachman or an alchemist or part of the blue man group or the kind of person who puts on their socks before their trousers. That’s what Dietrich saw. That’s what a lot of people still see. And the rest of us are sick of it.” She pointed to every leader she saw before her. “All of you have a duty to serve the world! When will you remember it? When will you see that the world isn’t your battlefield, that your actions and words affect more than those few that seem to circle you? The warriors you enlist, the bodyguards you hire, the friends you acquire, the tycoons you pay; these are the only people we see because that was the old world! And now?” A pause to take a swig of her drink. “Four leaders! Gone! Two wars beginning and over in a flash! Some would argue that they’re not over yet! So much death, so much pain, because the world’s outpaced you! We’ve changed, and you’re stuck dragging everyone by your choke chains into your own battles because that’s what you’ve always done! I don’t pretend to speak for the world’s people, but I think they’re beginning to lose their patience!”

The more Rachel said it, the more it seemed to be true. Around all her guests, all the leaders, all of the militants, grumbling and mumbling could be heard. What was all the fighting for? Not for them. Not for their benefit. It was as if Rachel had destroyed a jamming signal on emotion itself, and Franklin raised an eyebrow. The sincerity was there, but her words were beginning to grow in volume and in power. Her baritone hum became a boom, every word echoing through the halls and planting ideas into the heads of those around them.

“I think that when the people want wars, they’ll be the ones declaring them!” Rachel said, and everyone began to nod in agreement. Her pledge from before wasn’t lying; she was going to serve the people. She wasn’t going to exploit them like before. It’s amazing that they hadn’t considered it before. Rachel, behind her indignant face, was grinning like a wolf. Of course they didn’t consider it before; she was the one who brought it up. She was playing them like ragdolls for her own purpose, and the only person who seemed to notice was Franklin, who watched carefully, seeing a little into her plan as she calmed down, her pause letting the crowd sit with a whole new indignant rage rumbling in its belly, waiting to erupt out, a contrast to Rachel’s calmed mood.

“I do want to fix things, and I think you all do too.” She began again, her voice once again completely different. She looked back to the world leaders, but this time she was looking at them with a soft look, her voice soothing and calm and making the crowd feel better for listening to it, as if she was an angel made of the memories of everyone’s mothers. “I really do. And I know this isn’t want you wanted from the start. For you who are new as I am, I do see that you wish to help your people too, and those from the old world I can see want to transition to the new. The wars were never supposed to happen, and none of you really wanted them. That’s really what I intend to talk about after the coronation; I don’t think this is a world we can live in by ourselves anymore. We need to act as one, and see the consequences of our actions as one. We’re costing ourselves too much, and we’re destroying ourselves when we destroy each other. The world has changed, and I’m changing Creta with it. There’s a time to change, and it’s right now!” She pounded her fist into her open palm. Now to wrap it up, she thought. “I’m not of royal blood, but I’m going to honour my pledge as if I were! I refuse to let the world leave Creta in the dust! I refuse to get left behind! I refuse to make the same mistakes that we’ve made time and time again!” The minster began to rumble as everyone began to cheer quietly, her words forcing the people to their feet. “If I’m the one to lead this charge, then so be it, because I know what you want! I know what the people of the world want! Be ye Cretan, be ye Drachman, be ye Auregese, be ye anyone and everyone! I’m only the queen of one country but I intend to extend my pledge to all across the globe!” Now the crowd was beginning to go wild. They started to drown her out as her name began to be chanted. A constant repeat of ‘Rachel! Rachel! Rachel!’ “I shall serve all people! I shall do all for the people! I shall do for all people! I will protect all lands in times of peace! I will fight for all lands in times of war! I will heal all lands in times afterward! I shall do this in the will not of one country but of all countries!” It was as if all of Creta was shouting her name, the ground quaking as they did. Rachel leant forward, a grin coming back to her face.

“After all; anything else is something the person who wrote that list would do. And I’m not from that world. I’m from the new world. I’m from a world that I’m going to make better.” Her grin was almost wolfish in nature. She was riding high from the chants, as if intoxicated by the screams and cheers. “Keep up, or you’ll get left in the fucking dust.”

Even the profanity, live on television, couldn’t quell the almost war-cry like booming of her name, over and over again as people rose their fists to their new queen, and she rose hers back. The world had its eyes on her, and she had impressed.

“Now let’s have ourselves a party! Those who’ve got invited to the club afterwards, follow the fine soldiers of Creta, they’ll show you the way. My fellow monarchs, we’ll have a little chat on the way, my limo’ll fit you all. Please follow the guards to where it’s parked.” She lifted the microphone she spoke into, smiling. “Queen Rachel the first, over and out.” Finally, she dropped the mike, and walked off stage.

“Ummm… Rachel?” Came a voice.

“Like my speech?” She asked Franklin, who escorted her to the door opposite the main entrance.

“It was amazing. Beautifully written, masterfully spoken." He said, then he stopped her. “Cleverly manipulative. I know you too well, Rachel. What was that?” Rachel grinned.

“I just like people too much to send them to war. Well, that and it’s a pain in the arse. If Creta gets attacked, I’ve got to stop it and do all the paperwork and the planning.” She explained, causing worry in the bouncer. “Then I’ve got to negotiate and organise amnesties and sanctions, and it’s just a mess. If everyone thinks I want to never have a war again, everyone’ll fall in love with me. Well, all the public will. One person’s smart, but many people are stupid, and I can twist them into loving me whoever they are. Now I’ve planted the seeds of rebellion in people’s minds, anyone considering an attack on Creta’s going to have to think twice about what it’s going to look like to their people. They risk getting kicked out of office by their own if they go to war with me. On the other hand, if I’m given a reason to attack them, I’m going to look like the good guy no matter what, and everyone will simply fall into place and support me. I’m going to be untouchable and I’ll be able to do whatever I want because everyone will want me around, either because they’re in love with me or because they can’t afford the risk that comes with upsetting the applecart.” She grinned happily to Franklin, as if she was a student presenting her teacher a papier-mâché sculpture.

“You mean… you said all of that to make yourself invincible? And even then, solely because you’re too lazy to go to war?” He asked. Rachel scoffed.

“When you say it like that, it sounds insane.” She said. Franklin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, I expected insanity, just not on this level,” he said, causing Rachel to punch him lightly on the arm.

“Cheeky bastard!” She said, before looking to the limo as the world leaders were led towards it. “Right. Time to go.” She lifted her foot to step forward.

“Wait.”

“What now, Franklin?” Rachel sighed, hands on her hips.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Can you really pull this plan of yours off?” Franklin then saw something he thought that he’d never see, and would never see again.

He saw the unflappable, unpredictable, undeniable new Queen of Creta… stop and look stunned.

A terrible feeling welled up in Rachel’s gut. It was fear, but it wasn’t. It was sorrow, but it wasn’t. It was confusion, but it wasn’t. What it was was the feeling of being lost in a big forest. She sighed heavily, and slowly turned to her bouncer.

“Franklin. When you look in the mirror, what do you see?”

“I see myself.”

“I see an empty space where someone else should be.” Rachel explained, rubbing her arm nervously, transforming from the voice that could twist the will of thousands to a little girl in a big empty world. Tears began to form in her eyes. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t supposed to be here. My life has been a long string of accidents and chances. I get given all these chances by my dad, and I waste them. I get kicked off onto the street by him, and I luck out with a job. I do the job, and I just meet the right people at the right time and say the right things. I didn’t plan to be duchess. I didn’t plan to be queen. It just happened by accident.” Franklin walked a bit closer, concerned. He had never seen Rachel like this before. “My brother, Levi, he was a genius. A prodigy. I don’t know where he is. My dad wasn’t an idiot either. I think he’s dead, but I can’t say for sure. They’re the ones who should be standing here, or anyone else. Elastor’s more responsible, Aaron’s smarter, Vivian won’t manipulate a crowd full of people into screaming her name. I don’t even have any skills beyond speaking! Something everyone masters by the time they’re two! I don’t know anything, I can’t do anything! I’m just here because of some string of random chances that got me here. Do I know what I’m doing? I’ve been trying to answer that for years, and I’m no closer to an answer.”

“Rachel…”

“The issue isn’t whether or not I know what I’m doing.” She finished, turning away. “It’s making sure no one else finds out before I do. If I’m not meant to be here, the least I could do is make it worthwhile before the castle of sand collapses.” She sighed heavily, a weight of her shoulders. She needed to vent. She began to move towards the limo. “Let’s go, Franklin.” However, Franklin didn’t listen, instead reaching out to Rachel and grabbing her shoulder. Turning her back towards him, he pulled her into his large frame and wrapped his arms around her. Rachel’s eyes were wider than saucers, but she soon enough returned the hug.

“You’ll do fine.” He said, his voice soothing to her ears as they parted. She wiped her eyes looking up to the large bouncer.

“There’s a reason I’ve kept you around for this long.” She said, before gesturing back to the limo. “And it’s that you’re a cheap driver.” Franklin lightly punched her arm, before the two of them walked to the vehicle, wide smiles on their faces. Rachel clambered into the limo before anyone else could get in, turning around to the world’s top men as she smirked greedily. “The hottest two of you, sit either side to me and get up close. The rest of you find a space in the boot or something.”

Franklin’s mood got a lot worse, and he brought his forehead to the steering wheel in frustration, the limo's horn blaring out.

[Yoshida Izanagi]

From behind! A pair of hands attacked and Izanagi stiffened. There was a planned attack? Despite the rules?! Not expecting the (unwanted) hug, Izanagi reacted almost instantly and gripped the man's arms. He tensed and through the man both off of his back and flying a few feet. The shogun's eyes sat wide in his head, as a deer sits in the headlights. A hand went to his blade a moment and he glowered. "W-WHO DARES ATTACK ME?!" He demanded in a panicked way. His eyes slowly narrowing suspiciously at the black-haired man before him. The man seemed unaffected and not at all bothered by the throw. Wh-what WAS this man?!

"Hiya thar, uuuuuh... Wait, wait, I gots it... Hmm... MARIO! Ohnonowait, ah mah Guh, so sorriiiiiiiieeeees, YOSHI! Yepyepyep, you're Yoshi. How're youse on this fine day? OH! Didn't even 'member ta introduce myself to yas, I am the one they call Roí de Royaume Wolfgang Murinyo da thirdth, of Gelemort! But please, just calls me Wolfy, fer sho'te. "

His hand moved from off of his blade and Izanagi stared, literally dumbstruck. What on EARTH had that man just blathered at him. He caught part of his name and the rest was just a mess of nonsense. It sounded like someone butchered a language and offered the remnants that vultures hadn't devoured unto him. W-what- Was that some sort of battlecry? The shogun was obviously not amused. Even as the man turned to one of the other men and spoke in a language he didn't even recognize. He gave a look to Ryuji, then turned back to the man.

Thank the gods a familiar face slid into the mess and saved his tail. "He introduced himself brother, he is the king of Gelemorte. Roi de Royaume Wolfgang Murinyo the third. He says you can call him Wolfy for short." Izanami.. such a life-saver as usual, however, Izanagi was not quick to forgive. He looked from Izanami (who said something in gibberish) to this Wolfgang Murinyo.

Izanagi straightened himself, folded his cuffs, then stated rather boldly "Tell him not to touch me again. I do not appreciate being ambushed." He paused and looked at both of his company. "The coronation should be starting, let us join the others." With that, he turned and took his leave. Into the large church with everyone else.

Izanagi couldn't tell what was worse. Was it being ambushed by one of the other leaders or the way this new Queen acted. Not only was she incredibly late, but she also stopped, started speaking vulgarly into the microphone and then she tore open what he guessed was alcohol and tried again. His face was blank; confused and just simply lost as she went on. “That’s what these people think the world is; a list of dos and don’ts, written up by business moguls and lords and ladies and the rich!” Izanagi didn't quite understand. Then again, he had never had a proper coronation, himself. He was simply a shadow who slipped into the position, almost like the ninjas he kept around. Few of his people knew what he looked like, but his name was known and often times the first question that followed was "That general?" All the men he had kill, often flashed behind his eyes. Before all of this, he was simply a mindless man, sent to simply to bidding. Yes.. it was true, he would never be able to look a Xingese man in the eye again, without feeling guilt. In his eyes sat the souls of those stolen away and never to return, but perhaps one day.. all would be well and he could make amends with the slaughters. General Yoshida. The name had been passed down far more times than necessary. Izanagi was so grateful his siblings didn't have to endure the torture.

Beautiful Izanami didn't need to be stained with red upon her innocent white soul. Did she even know how stained red he was? The lion and the lamb... that is how he flt at times. His heart stopped and he looked at his sister, so clueless and oblivious to his thoughts. She was no mind reader, but she seemed glad to have come along and for that, Izanagi could not be mad at her. He hadn't known she would want to toddle along, or else he would have brought her originally, without fight. On his other side was Ryuji. The poor man was lost in the world and Yoshida felt somewhat guilty in bringing him. However, he also knew Ryuji would have insisted anyways. It was just how he was. It gave him a tinge of pride in his chest.

Only then he had found himself zoning out, missing chunks of this woman's speech. He tried to hone back in, but found his mind a bit unfocused. So many things were needed to be done and little had yet been accomplished. The road ahead for she, the new emperor of Xing and himself, was a long one.. at least he hoped so. No more deaths... the shifting of World leaders made it most difficult in terms of everything. The people were in chaos and without a solid foundation and the other leaders were at a loss of what they thought of each country and how it is run. Allies and enemies were so unpredictable and confusing.

“Allow me to share with you something that I’ve only realised recently. And I only noticed it recently because it’s only happened recently, and many people don’t want to see it, but it’s true… the world’s changing. I feel that I’m evidence enough to that effect. Dietrich was a smart man, and a great king. He was cunning, ruthless and brutal, but he served Creta well. Royalty was in everything he did, and everything he said. He had plans for Creta that were tragically cut short. I’m younger than him. I’m probably not as smart as him. I’m not even supposed to be here. I wasn’t very good at school, in fact I was really lazy. I’m a nightclub owner without royal blood in me, and a woman at that. While I was able to get enough support to be voted as queen, there’s plenty who think that only old, white skinned men who happened to be born a prince should ever wear this crown. And here I am.”

Again, Izanagi was trying to focus on her words, but really, he could sort of relate. He too, was of no 'royal blood' not even a passing touch. In fact iif he traced his line back far enough, he was pretty sure the earlier lineage he had was more akin to slaves or farmers. Peasants that had little to nothing, but still showed their loyalty. That was something that would never fade from the man, his sense of pride and the joy he found in doing what was right. Everything he did was for his country, for a better future and he too, had so little to give, but all it was was everything they needed. Even waves started small before they gathered into the large walls and then crest into the ocean. Time after time, these fluxes in life forever impacted not only the water, but the land it kept crashing away into. Old was stripped away and new was slowly formed beneath the surface.

“I’m here and Dietrich’s not. Here’s what happened to Dietrich, what really happened to Dietrich. Drachma attacked because one man went on a ridiculous quest that he decided was far more important that the lives of his people, and the people of everyone else around him. He sent the world spiralling into chaos, and then shot himself. Looking better, by the way, Aurry. Like what you’ve done to hide it. No one would even guess. You need to tell me how you do your hair, you must've been a hairdresser in another life.”

“Why did he do it? I don’t know. Why did Drachma go down this road of bloodshed, destroying themselves and the world, only to turn away and go home? I don’t know. What started this whole mess? I don’t know. I think we were all acting pretty stupid those few months, it was a weird time for everyone. But I’ll come back to that. What happened to Dietrich was that he laid a trap. Dietrich laid a trap, thinking that he could crush the Drachman forces in the palm of his hand as they marched through our cities just to attack Amestris. He let RIOTE walk in, the trap backfired, and he was put into a comatose state. I don’t doubt the genius of the trap, and I’m not going to call Dietrich a bad king. He wasn’t, but here’s a question; why trap them at all? Why not negotiate? Why not bring Hans, Vanity and himself around a table and talk this out? If not that, why not hit Drachma back before they came into the country? Why not bring the fight to them? Why not react, whether with peace or with violence? Why stand still and hope he could twist them into his palm?” Izanagi couldn't help but feel betrayed. That man had done similar to Aerugo. He'd used them to get to Amestris and then went back on a promise. He couldn't stand LIARS. Perhaps it was childish of him to think, but even he shot cruel eyes at the King of Chaos, himself. Eyes that read a mixture of gratitude with snarky overtone and hatred. It was a dark look in his eyes towards the man. A traitor to everything natural. THAT was what Aurelius was. He jusst had to step his foot in the middle and draw a line for the cosmos. At the same time, Izanagi had to thank him. Without the man, Yuuko wouldn't have gone to Xing. His eyes rose back to the woman, catching bits and pieces of the speech again.

“And here’s that revelation I had. Dietrich fell not because he wasn’t smart enough to see the other options, but because he wasn’t allowed to. It wasn’t in the rules. It wasn’t in the list of dos and don’ts. He still saw things as Creta versus the world, as Aurelius sees RIOTE versus the world, and everyone else from this world that is now gone. We do attack and chronically backstab each other. We don’t work towards a better world as a singular united people. We do let huge conglomerates and businesses feed off our people like leeches. We don’t consider our actions in a global sense, but only in our own tiny pockets. We do try to trick each other into doing what we want, gently squeezing their balls until they bow to our demands. We don’t fight for our people, or for all people, whether we’re Cretan or Drachman or an alchemist or part of the blue man group or the kind of person who puts on their socks before their trousers. That’s what Dietrich saw. That’s what a lot of people still see. And the rest of us are sick of it. “All of you have a duty to serve the world! When will you remember it? When will you see that the world isn’t your battlefield, that your actions and words affect more than those few that seem to circle you? The warriors you enlist, the bodyguards you hire, the friends you acquire, the tycoons you pay; these are the only people we see because that was the old world! And now? Four leaders! Gone! Two wars beginning and over in a flash! Some would argue that they’re not over yet! So much death, so much pain, because the world’s outpaced you! We’ve changed, and you’re stuck dragging everyone by your choke chains into your own battles because that’s what you’ve always done! I don’t pretend to speak for the world’s people, but I think they’re beginning to lose their patience!”

There it was. The fleeting moment's breath of regret. He probably didn't HAVE to kill Yuuko. That one day would come back and bite him in the ass, but no one knew. Not even his sister knew what he did to that Empress' body that was stashed somewhere with the bodies of other come and gone. It wasn't like he cared that much on it. As soon as it came, it was gone. The woman was a weed that needed to be plucked from her very seat. The country was better without her ruthlessly killing others, attacking Xing for her own petty desires. That reminded him, he would have to have a talk with a couple of the other leaders when he got the chance. He was purposely going to avoid Aurelius, though. That man was far from Izanagi's to-talk-to list. His temper was easily to manipulate and that would make for a terrible situation. OH and the strange man too, who had attacked him as if he were some doll. He'd avoid him too. Izanagi's eyes rolled over each leader with curiosity, sneaking a look to their expressions, curiously.

“I do want to fix things, and I think you all do too. I really do. And I know this isn’t want you wanted from the start. For you who are new as I am, I do see that you wish to help your people too, and those from the old world I can see want to transition to the new. The wars were never supposed to happen, and none of you really wanted them. That’s really what I intend to talk about after the coronation; I don’t think this is a world we can live in by ourselves anymore. We need to act as one, and see the consequences of our actions as one. We’re costing ourselves too much, and we’re destroying ourselves when we destroy each other. The world has changed, and I’m changing Creta with it. There’s a time to change, and it’s right now! I’m not of royal blood, but I’m going to honour my pledge as if I were! I refuse to let the world leave Creta in the dust! I refuse to get left behind! I refuse to make the same mistakes that we’ve made time and time again! If I’m the one to lead this charge, then so be it, because I know what you want! I know what the people of the world want! Be ye Cretan, be ye Drachman, be ye Auregese, be ye anyone and everyone! I’m only the queen of one country but I intend to extend my pledge to all across the globe! I shall serve all people! I shall do all for the people! I shall do for all people! I will protect all lands in times of peace! I will fight for all lands in times of war! I will heal all lands in times afterward! I shall do this in the will not of one country but of all countries! After all; anything else is something the person who wrote that list would do. And I’m not from that world. I’m from the new world. I’m from a world that I’m going to make better. Keep up, or you’ll get left in the fucking dust.”

Izanagi had to stop and stare in surprise. He had greatly misjudged this woman. How similar he felt to the woman's goals and in fact, he couldn't help but smile. Smile and then.. suddenly he started laughing. His hand covered his mouth. Relief washed over him, momentarily. He forgot where he was in fact it didn't matter. This woman- she was something else. It was odd, but he liked her. She lacked in tact, but for claiming not to be smart or experienced, her words were wise. Sometimes the new blood was better than the old. After his little chuckles escaped, he passed it away and looked up at the woman. Now.. the next step was for her to take these actions and set them in motion. He looked forward to it.

“Now let’s have ourselves a party! Those who’ve got invited to the club afterwards, follow the fine soldiers of Creta, they’ll show you the way. My fellow monarchs, we’ll have a little chat on the way, my limo’ll fit you all. Please follow the guards to where it’s parked.” Now that- That was something Izanagi was unsure of. These 'clubs' as he had heard were sometimes painful to attend with loud music and a lot of drinking, however he DID have to speak to a few other leaders, so he would look into that next. Silently, he grabbed his sister's hand. People were leaving and he rose to his feet. He was silent a moment. The whole thought process was a bit delayed. He turned a second to look over Ryuji. "That suit forms well to you." The words fell out quickly. "I forgot to thank you for attending, Tsuboi-san. I know it must be a trouble trying to figure this all out."

Then, he was back towards his sister. A gentle smile played at his lips. "Izanami... You are always looking out for me, are you not? Thank you, imouto." His fingers didn't leave hers, half afraid to lose her in the crowd. "Tsuboi-san, tag along. I have a few things to do, before we can mingle once more." He looked at his sister hard. "You know this world, better than I. Please, take me to the leader of Carraig. I wish to speak to him, while we are here." He knew little on Carraig, but so many faces left him drowning in a way he couldn't exactly claw through.

[Hans L. Reinhardt]

This was going to be an unorthodox day. Hans could feel it in his very bones. He was quietly chatting with his wife as the air in the minster grew tight. The future queen was running late to her own coronation. More people continued to arrive and yet no Rachel. Hans wasn't all that surprised. From what he'd heard about her, the new ruler of Creta was going to be very different from Dietrich. But the question was, would she be different in a good way?

“Hm, I wonder just how you manged to survive.” The blood in his veins ran cold as that mocking voice reached his ears. He took his wife's hand and placed it into her own lap as he stood and faced that scrawny bastard. Aurelius. Spade had told him that he had seen the leader of RIOTE shoot himself atop Central HQ. And yet here he was. In the flesh. Hans had half a mind to shoot him again, just to make sure he didn't come back. Several times, to be on the safe side. Instead, Hans replied, ice lacing his words. “I could wonder the same about you.” He sniffed in disdain, although his eyes sparkled with anger. “Now, you should move on. This is not your place.” Hans waited until Aurel and his entourage had left before he took his seat. He was joined shortly by Spade and Jay, as rumors of Rachel's arrival were imminent. He had seen Gavin arrive and offered him a smile from across the way. Finally, a face he was happy to see.

Silence came from outside, which was surprising. Which meant one thing. Rachel had arrived. Hans watched quietly as she entered and the rites of coronation were done. It was a simple enough ceremony, drowning in historical importance. But it was the speech that followed that really drew Hans' attention to this sprightly youth of a queen. He issued a short, silent bark of laughter as she tore up her carefully prepared (politically correct) speech and began to spin her own. Hans had to respect her gumption. She was making an obvious power play in her speech and it was working. The people of Creta and likely the world were now cheering her name. Yet he could always sense the naivete in her words. Unfortunately, there wasn't always the option towards talking out options and bringing about peace. Some hurts ran too deep. Hans had no doubt that given the opportunity, the people of Amestris would call for Aurel's head. And Hans couldn't deny them that. Aurelius had destroyed Amestris and hurt the people far too many times. But he believed that in general terms, peace was a viable option.

He stood and applauded with the rest as Rachel finished her speech and walked off her pulpit, the microphone making a whining noise as it hit the floor. It was quickly turned off and people began the move. Some were headed for their homes, others to Rachel's club for the (in)formal party. Hans himself had been casually asked (via public speech) to ride with Rachel to the club and he couldn't exactly say no. He turned to Brigitte, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. He then looked at Spade and Jay. “You two are in charge of bringing my wife to the club with you.” He glanced over at Gavin. “You'll be taking Miss Quinn as well.” Looking down at Brigitte, he spoke quietly. “Take care of her. This is something very new and strange, I suspect.”

With that, he led his own little entourage over to Gavin. He shook Gavin's hand and kissed the top of Rosaleen's. Brigitte came to Rosaleen's side after receiving a greeting from Gavin. “Rosaleen, yes? I'm Brigitte. You'll ride over with myself and my lovely escorts. We've got to let the boys do their thing for now.” Once Hans and Gavin had been left by their various companions, he clapped Gavin on the shoulder. “Come, Your Highness. Let us go greet the Queen.”

They were found by two Cretan soldiers and were escorted towards Rachel's limo. Along the way, they were found by Shogun Yoshida and his interpreter sister. Hans managed to bow to them both, speaking a short greeting in the little Aerugese he knew. “Shogun Yoshida. An honor to meet you and your sister.” They were all gently pushed along until they were outside again, watching Rachel crawl into the limo. The limo was strictly for the leaders, but Hans gently handed in Shogun Yoshida's sister, seeing as how they would likely need someone who could play the language game. He let Yoshi follow his sister, before gesturing at Gavin to enter. Hans then bent double and crawled into the limo himself, taking a seat opposite Rachel, as he left the seats next to her open for the younger leaders. He allowed a small smile. “I believe congratulations are in order, Your Majesty.”

[Guest]

“Queen Rachel the first, over and out.”

Lucas couldn't help but chuckle. The entire speech, though he'd heard a slightly muffled version of it, seemed a bit, well, out there. Sure, Queen Rachel had sounded sincere, but he couldn't help but feel that these idealistic aspirations were just that - idealistic. However, regardless of whether she succeeded or not, she was still the Queen, and he, a citizen of Creta. Though he could be considered part of the country's military force, he wasn't directly so. Consequently, he chose to slip into to crowd of civilians, which he had no trouble doing. He began to regret that decision, however, when the crowd cheered, the majority of them standing up to show their support. To avoid being unnecessarily shoved around, he voluntarily moved with the crowd as they began to file out of the building.

As the sea of people floated along, the blonde took it upon himself to watch the movement of the big players of the event. Once outside, he moved away from the crowd to observe their movements. While he had no reason in particular to suspect that anything would happen, it wasn't completely out of the question. If he made sure to keep an eye on everything and everyone (as well as one person could, at least), he would be better able to intervene, if necessary. It was the first time he'd ever really done anything remotely related to his "job" - he didn't really think of it as a job in the general sense - and though it was only because he felt the need, if anything happened and he hadn't been there to assist, he wasn't sure how likely he was to keep his standing.

The alchemist scoffed at himself a bit for even caring about this so much. Politics were never really in his interests, especially given his history. Which was a bit ironic, considering his current situation. The kid that murdered and experimented on his parents was now part of an organization meant to help keep things running smoothly in the country. Shaking his head, he ran over the facts he had studied. There was quite an interesting mix of people attending this event, particularly when it came to the other world leaders. The most interesting of the bunch, however, was Aurelius. The posterchild of RIOTE. Quite possibly the main player, but according to his sources that was a title shared between two people, and he didn't want to make any assumptions. So, other than Aurelius Carston Schwartz, there were also the country leaders: Hans Ludwig Reinhardt, the Chancellor of Amestris; Yoshida, Izanagi, the Shogun of Aerugo; Wolfgang Morpheus Murinyo II, the unorthodox "Roi` de Royaume de Gelemorté"; Qin Shi Xun, the Emperor of Xing; and last, but not least, Gavin Seamus Etheridge, the mute King of Carraig. An interesting bunch, but not necessarily his type of crowd. This newly acquired information network would turn out to be even more useful in the future, he supposed, especially when it came to his sister. He would see to checking up on her after this whole thing was over.

"Lily's gonna flip when she finds out that I stepped foot in a church, though," he chuckled to himself as he watched everyone pass by. Lucas would find a way to trail behind the limo unnoticed, if possible, but that would likely take a bit of improvisation. Lily was better at that than he was, but he was glad she chose not to attend the event, and had other things to do. After all, she was as far from inconspicuous as she was skilled at winging it. Which, Luke noted, wasn't always a good thing. It seemed he would have to do things on his own this time around, but the Dynamic Duo would remain as one.

[Wolfgang Murinyo]

In mid-hug, no less, Wolfy had been flung over the head of the Aerugese emperor. This, oddly, didn’t concern him much at all, and he wasn’t paying enough attention to his guard to know how he had reacted. As it was, he merely landed on his feet, dipping into his bow and introduction. Soon after, a woman came over and spoke some crazy-talk at the emperor, and then started speaking his language, serving as the translator. LOVELY!~ “Ahhh, nice ta meetcha then, Ms. Izanami!~” Dipping into a low bow of his own, stopping just short of bumping his face on the ground, he smiled at the woman whom he greeted rather… Well, he tried to be polite, but informal, as always. Hearing Yoshi sputter out some crazy-talk again, he decided to make his exit, rather promptly walking off towards the church, for the coronation.

Soon enough, a voice started shouting at Wolfy over the intercom, and he focused all attention on Rachel, the recipient of the boom-boom talking. As the congregation, himself included, was told to sit, Wolfy chose instead to lean, leaning casually against a wall, beside a stained glass window. Honeybadger. And here came the Pledge of Allegiance of Creta, which Rachel said with the big-voice-man, followed by the crown’s presentation to the new queen.

“Cretans and all others.” She began. “I accept this honour that you have bestowed on me. I shall serve Creta and lead her… her…”

Oh no, it was a boring speech. Straight out of the book, even Wolfy knew THAT. The kid’s speech, back home, had been less bland! Yeesh, ‘Nasci’s rejection of the crown was less dull. And here he’d thought a club-going lady like herself would be more interesting. Phooey. She was even stuttering! Was she nervous to give such a lame speech!?

“… lead her through these dark times and bring her prosperity to…”

At that point, he was feeling a little sorry for her. I mean, yeah, it was a boring speech and all, but she didn’t even seem to want to do it. Maybe she was awkward, and a bad speech-writer?

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this with a straight face.”

The way she said it… The way she said it implied that his previous thoughts were all off the mark. She had found the speech as amusing bland as he had! Hilariously, she threw the torn up, balled up speech into the crowd, bouncing it off the heads of Yoshi and Aurel. Wolfy had to crack a laugh, his own shattering of the awkward silence she had made. “Thirty points fer the two-fer! Haha!~” He was intrigued; this speech was getting good.

“Those words? They were written for me! Not by someone I hired! Not by an orator, or a speechwriter! You know who wrote it? I don’t know either. Probably some intern. I was sent it last night, from the House of Lords. It was a list of things I could and couldn’t say. One of them was that I couldn’t mention the word Irn Bru! For fear of Barr! One of the people who wrote that piece of shit list has a major company in the soft drinks industry to thank for his wealth. With that in mind,”

Oh-ho-ho? Brave one, this girl. He liked her already. He was about to shout up his own thoughts on her words, his personal agreement and approval, when she carried on, mentioning the name of some drink of sorts. Watching her as she reached for a can, he drew from his inside pocket his small bottle of whiskey, and rose it sky-high, taking a drink as she said bottoms up, smiling as he placed the bottle back into his inner pocket. He shifted position against his wall, making it more comfortable for himself. Dietrich, while he’d be sorely, sorely missed, had never been THIS crazy! Wolfy, king of the unorthodox, was enjoying this coronation, and he knew the fun hadn’t even begun yet…

“That’s what these people think the world is; a list of do’s and don’ts, written up by business moguls and lords and ladies and the rich!”

And she wanted to shed that list from herself, to be unhindered by conventions! Glorious, glorious, glorious! She was queen; she could do what she wanted to do!

“Allow me to share with you something that I’ve only realized recently.” She began again, “And I only noticed it recently because it’s only happened recently, and many people don’t want to see it, but it’s true… the world’s changing. I feel that I’m evidence enough to that effect.” She stopped to take a breath. “Dietrich was a smart man, and a great king. He was cunning, ruthless and brutal, but he served Creta well. Royalty was in everything he did, and everything he said. He had plans for Creta that were tragically cut short.” She then gestured to herself. “I’m younger than him. I’m probably not as smart as him. I’m not even supposed to be here. I wasn’t very good at school, in fact I was really lazy. I’m a nightclub owner without royal blood in me, and a woman at that. While I was able to get enough support to be voted as queen, there’s plenty who think that only old, white skinned men who happened to be born a prince should ever wear this crown. And here I am.”

Okay… Okay. At this point of the speech, he was loudly applauding and laughing, such to the point that some Cretan soldier came over to tell him to quiet down, which he did, albeit not very well. She was a genius, he’d decided. Or at least, a revolutionary, and quite similar to himself, be that a good or bad thing. Royalty… Royalty is, and always will be, some form of a contest between members of one family. He didn’t like it, and it seemed she agreed with this. She’d come into play soon after the much older, wiser, more powerful ruler had been unable to lead anymore, and was different from him racially, gender-wise, and age-wise, but most importantly, she wasn’t royal blood. In much the same way, Wolfy himself had come to power. He’d been a refugee of Amestris, self-exiled to the farthest place from those he’d wronged before he was imprisoned once those wrong-doings caught up to him. Amestrian-Cerisian, he didn’t look Gelemortian, didn’t sound Gelemortian, and even presently, didn’t speak Gelemortian without an accent, even if he were to dispel the ever-present dialect he butchered languages with. He was a foreigner for one. In addition, he was at least a third the age of the current king at that time, if not even younger, and it wasn’t but a decade or so later that he took the reins. And of course, he’d had no relations to Darkamaru III. He was no Invidia, he had no Rouenian blood in him whatsoever. He came in as a Private, rose to the ranks of General, and then to the right hand of the king, and upon the king’s death, and his grandson’s failure to rule well, he took hold, and became the fourth king of Gelemort, and the first not to bear the Invidia’s blood. All luck. Right place, right time. He understood Rachel completely in that regard.

His focus wavered from Rachel as he pondered those thoughts, and snapped back as she spoke to Aurel, cracking a grin on the psychotic king’s face. “Like what you’ve done to hide it. No one would even guess. You need to tell me how you do your hair, you must've been a hairdresser in another life.” Glorious… Simply glorious! Even he, king of no-holds-barred crazy would have never considered so openly, or casually, addressing Aurel, calling him out on what he’d done, and then having the gall to throw an off-handed compliment at him, possibly just to embarrass the man publicly. Speaking of Aurel, he narrowed his eyes, and made the mental note to have a talk with Aurel; nothing serious, nothing accusatory, just a talk. Partly to cement Gelemort’s apparent neutrality towards RIOTE, no matter how accurate that was to say, but also just to intimidate him a little, to show that Wolfy was most certainly not afraid of him, as so many people were at the coronation.

“Why did he do it? I don’t know. Why did Drachma go down this road of bloodshed, destroying themselves and the world, only to turn away and go home? I don’t know. What started this whole mess? I don’t know. I think we were all acting pretty stupid those few months, it was a weird time for everyone. But I’ll come back to that. What happened to Dietrich was that he laid a trap.”

Even Wolfy was dumbstruck by this, if only briefly. Did she… Did she just call the war stupid…? And then, not taking a pause for that to sink in, carried on noting Dietrich’s downfall? Even he hadn’t gotten to that level of directness, that boldness. It was admirable. Perhaps now, more than ever, Gelemort would more diligently build on their already strong alliance, or at the least, friendship, with Creta… Rachel would be an incredibly strong leader, he knew that already.

“Dietrich laid a trap, thinking that he could crush the Drachman forces in the palm of his hand as they marched through our cities just to attack Amestris. He let RIOTE walk in, the trap backfired, and he was put into a comatose state. I don’t doubt the genius of the trap, and I’m not going to call Dietrich a bad king. He wasn’t, but here’s a question; why trap them at all? Why not negotiate? Why not bring Hans, Vanity and himself around a table and talk this out? If not that, why not hit Drachma back before they came into the country? Why not bring the fight to them? Why not react, whether with peace or with violence? Why stand still and hope he could twist them into his palm?”

That made quite a bit of sense, actually… Dietrich had always been confident, perhaps far too much so. Wolfy could believe that he would do something like that, allowing RIOTE to try and get to him so he could nab the whole pot, instead of taking it in bundles, victory by victory. He’d played chess with Aurel, and bet that he could win with a board of pawns, letting Aurel take the rest, and he found out moments before the end that pawns along, could not a king, defend. Quite the opposite, actually; his defenses had been weakened in order to let RIOTE in for the kill, and the honeybadger was only hindered by the venom of the cobra. That is, if Aurel was a honeybadger, and Dietrich was a cobra.

He carried on listening to Rachel speak, but he’d heard quite enough already, the rest was merely icing on the cake she was baking with her words. Quite an eloquent speaker, she was, and if the speech was preplanned like this, then it was convincing enough to allow Wolfy to carry on believing it was legitimately being made up on the spot. And even if it wasn’t, it took skill to A) do so with such passion, conviction, and tact, as to make it believably unscripted in appearance, and B) a far shinier, larger, set of sheer brass balls than most people would ever wear in their lifetime, and the charisma to essentially bash whoever she wanted with no repercussions, or at least, no repercussions at that moment. Masterfully executed, either way one looked at it.

As she carried on, her speaking got stronger, more powerful, more riveting, until the crowd began to chant her name, and Wolfy joined in, applauding with his loudest claps and cheers. He’d have to speak with her soon enough, but he had other things on his agenda first. As she closed out the speech, he’d already begun to stride across the pews to where the great Aurelius Schwarz was seated, alongside two girls, one of whom clung to him as if she were his daughter, and the other who quite resembled him, and could have been his daughter, but for her age. Standing behind the man, he waited for Aurel to stand, and, with little warning, as previously, with Yoshi, he placed a hand on Aurel’s shoulder, pushing down slightly as he flipped into the air, landing opposite Aurel, now facing him, and enveloped the man who’d caused so much chaos into a powerful hug, before stepping back, almost as quickly as it had begun, and offering a hand for Aurel to shake. Time for business, it seemed.

No matter how mad he seemed, no matter how crazily he acted, Wolfgang Murinyo was never without some form of a plan, and this was no different; he eyed Aurel with almost a friendly look, and an amiable smile, but underneath, hidden from the most watchful of eyes, it was a calculating stare. Shock value, flashiness, and the element of surprise. These three were the biggest advantages Gelemort held over any other nation. They didn’t have the strongest defenses, offenses, nor the most superior in any one division of the military. What they did have, however, was something only perhaps Carraig could even come close to matching: madness. They were unpredictable, and their leader was no exception. Quite the opposite in fact, he was the least predictable of them all. “Aurelius Schwarz! Pleasant surprise ta see youse here.” Glancing at the winged child and the woman, he cocked an eyebrow, not quite breaking his grin. “Never pictured you’s a family guy, Aurel.” Turning his attention from the girls back to Aurel, he retracted his hand, whether Aurel had shaken his or not, and reached for a scone from a tray one of the fine serving people had been carrying off to some kitchen or something, likely as part of clean-up duty, since the coronation seemed to be heading towards a club somewhere. He’d catch up later, he supposed. “Guess there’s a good few things I dunno ‘boutcha, eh? Didn’t know ya didjer own hair, for one.” Laughing a little at his own jab at his hair, which was, admittedly, styled rather nicely, as Rachel had noted, he took a bite of the scone and swallowed the tasty bread-thing before speaking again. “Soooo, whaddaya think’ve Rachel’s speech?” Letting the man answer, he shortly after gave his own opinion. “Pers’nally, I liked it. She’s got some good ideases and crap, eh? Yah. Welp, gonna head over to the limo’n stuff, a’ight? Sooooo, seeya there, if’n youse is goin. If not, you toats oughta come over fer tea’re golf’re some crap sometime, eh?” And, to avoid the awkward saying-goodbye-and-then-walking-beside-him thing, he took a longer route to the limo, making sure to have Valentino do… Something. And then climbed in, and took a seat, locating Rachel in the back with a grin, and a hand extended, not wanting to scare the holy bejesus out of her with one of his hugs of doom and scariness. Sitting somewhere near her, or at least within good distance, without talking over someone’s head, he spoke up in a cheery voice.

“Heyyo!~ If’n youse dunno me, I’m Wolfgang Murinyo II, king’a Gelemort and such. Might know me, might not, I think I been down ta yer club ‘afores, though, so iunno. Either way, I just wanna tells ya, that speech was friggin awesome. I’m gonna miss old Diet, but hey, I think he’d be proud’a his successor. I betcha you’ll do great, Rach. On a side note, what says youse to a cup’a joe, sometime? Gotta talk politics and crap eventually, I figure it might’s well be outside a stuffy office, eh?” And, compliments slung at her, and offer for a nice friendly chat extended, he sat back in his seat and relaxed, as the rest of the leaders got in, and vroom went the wheels and such. T’was going to be a fun time after all.

[Sponsored content]