is it by mistake or design, Palodir

Outfit!

Sunday, July 1st, Early Evening

Joan is playing this piano piece.

Normally after entertaining, Joan took a very long nap. It was normal to her, especially after playing some of her more complex compositions, and on the violin, no less. But today, probably in response to the Xixil she'd recently become reacquainted with, she was a good deal more awake, well into the healthy afterglow of the high. She also knew well enough that she'd need some more soon; the withdrawals, while worth the high, were not really the best part of the experience. But for now she was quite content to take advantage of the large piano left by itself in the ballroom, so alone and in need of hands to play it just right.

Idly, she wondered why she hadn't returned to the drug long before. Granted, she knew she was decreasing her life expectancy by a good deal, but it really mattered little in the grand scheme of things. She was bound to die early anyway. What she liked most about the drug, though, was that she was both heavily aware of this knowledge and profoundly comfortable with it. The idea of dying soon - this weekend, tomorrow, in five minutes - really didn't bother her. Nothing seemed to be able to touch her.

People seemed to enjoy her more like this at any rate. Just that morning, her newest conquest had decided to inform her that it was her improved demeanor that made him open to her. He had even arranged another rendezvous of sorts for that coming evening. Joan didn't typically sleep with the same person two nights in a row, but she really didn't care. What did it matter as long as she was enjoying herself? Everything else paled in comparison.

Probably the best aspect of her day had been that her father had come to see her. And instead of offering advice or some sort of admonishment - he had spoken of his pride. He had said that her skills as Neptunian were far more valuable than hers as a Lunarian, and that her position as court entertainer had opened him up to some powerful connections. He also enjoyed her newly found proneness to laughter and smiles. He could not recall her having been like this since she was a teenager. Which only furthered Joan's resolve that her decision to return to the very thing she had once feared above all else was the best she could have made.

Rikker made it back to the Moon almost once a month, though most of the time, no one noticed. While he continued to exercise his powers in his basement and the scheduled tests against the monsters the Mercurians created for the White Regime, nothing was ever quite as exhilitaring as fighting against Arjun. They had regular training bouts, that to the average eye would look like both men were trying to kill each other. Rikker, for his part, actually was trying, but Arjun somehow maintained a sleek veneer of calm, even when Rikker managed to hit him. It was iritating to admit that there was someone out there Rikker had fought and not killed. That perhaps, he couldn't kill Arjun...

But just in that same vein, after a fight like that, Rikker felt at ease. The edge of dark energy which drew out his bloodlust and sharpened his senses until he was one hiss of pain away from unleashing a massacre... well, that died off too. It was interesting, just to exist, to watch everything around him and not immediately want to destroy it. It wasn't as if something inside him was missing, so much as, he simply wasn't hungry right then.

Rikker left his rooms after a shower and a change of clothes, having far too much discipline to even entertain the idea of sleeping so early, regardless of whether or not the hell had just been beaten out of him. Outwardly, there were no visible signs of his injuries. He walked straight and moved without stiffness, but beneath his clothes, there were large bruises littering his body. Arjun wouldn’t let him leave with open wounds and healed any severe damage, leaving the rest to Rikker’s own regenerative powers. Rikker didn’t like not being able to carry his battle wounds, but neither would he be able to explain how he had come by them, so it was a necessary sufferance.

For a while, Rikker just walked around the palace. It felt haunted; an unusual description from a man who rarely felt anything more complex than amusement or intrigue. Of course, Rikker knew why there was so much feeling in this building. It might have been new, but it housed many depraved secrets from the current tortures hidden beneath all the marble and gloss to the past, some thousands of years back. Rikker knew the most about Crystal Tokyo, because it provided the most information about his current enemies, the Sailor Senshi. He never fooled himself into believing he knew everything, but neither did he care about everything. He had his mission and since it coincided with his own innate desires, Rikker didn't need anything else.

The sound of piano music had caught Rikker's attention from far away. There was a familiar scent, mixed with an acrid chemical odor. When Rikker did use his powers, he mainly augmented his natural abilities, strength, endurance, senses. The energy built on who he was already and became a seamless part of him. The enhanced scent, sight and hearing were lingering side effects of his earlier engagement.

After last month's ball, Rikker had looked into Joan Pollux. If they had another meeting, Rikker wanted to know if she was a permissible kill. The court was littered with glittering whores to complement the architecture, but some of them had a little more than flesh to offer. Unfortunately, Joan was one of those. A supposed double-agent, working in the Alliance for the White Regime. When the profile came up, Rikker felt it would have warranted a rolling of eyes, had anyone been there to watch him. Well, that only meant if she fucked up, he could have her. That was the mental note that loaded in his mind, as Rikker followed the music towards her.

She was alone, in the large room, apparently lost in her art, like so many of her kind.

"Good evening, Lady Pollux. It seems like you've found a satisfying lover after all." Rikker nodded at the piano, as he crossed the room in long easy strides. As he recalled, they had not gotten off on a pleasant footing. But that hardly mattered. He just wanted her to remember him, to have a point of reference, for when she inevitably failed the White Regime, and became his. "I'm Commander Rikker Jalkan. I'm afraid you probably saw a slightly drunker, less refined version of myself the first time we met. My apologies." Rikker bowed slightly. Now that he was closer, he could identify the drug. Xixil, a Neptunian favorite. She really was every bit the stereotypical Neptunian. "Would you mind a do-over?"

There was nothing quite as enjoyable as releasing one's emotions into the flow of a tune. Losing oneself in one's throes of artistic endeavor was an experience was almost unrivaled in terms of release and pleasure... almost.

It was only as the song slowed to a close and silence began to refill the room that Joan noticed she was not quite alone. Her eyes darted to the side, falling upon Lord Jalkan. She might have been at the very least unamused and the very most pissed that he had chosen to intrude upon her at this time, but because the drug was still very present in her bloodstream, Joan was none of these things. Instead, the happy feeling she'd been experiencing just moments before remained so; it refused to be dampened by the sudden presence of this Jovian, so locked was she still in the drug's grasp.

Her grin only widened at his quip. "Indeed," she agreed. "There is almost nothing that can quite rival the feeling of the ivory and ebony beneath one's fingers. As if, with the two opposing colors, two other very different things might coexist in harmony." Later, Joan would realize just how silly she sounded, but at the moment, she hardly noticed. It wasn't important at any rate; she was enjoying herself far too much.

When he bowed, an eyebrow raised on Joan's forehead unbidden. He was apologizing to her? No amount of Xixil could possibly weaken the surprise welling within her veins, flowing under her skin like wildfire. She studied him closely, torn between the feel of the drug and the underlying need and desire to see the sudden change within him, but as per usual, the drug won out and soon the more thoughtful side of Joan bid adieu once more. What did it matter if he was apologizing? Even if everything was a farce of some sort on the New Moon, it really weighed little in comparison to her ultimate goal.

She slid to a standing position, her dress swaying gracefully in the sudden movement. It seemed that even under the influence of an illicit substance, she was still undeniably a member of her Neptunian race. But this, too, was irrelevant. Instead of commenting on it, Joan offered the Jovian her hand for him to shake or kiss or whatever he liked depending on his background.

"Drunkenness is not an entirely unforgivable pursuit," she said playfully, looking at him sideways from under her eyelashes. "But do-overs, I've found, are particularly enjoyable." With a smile set upon her features, she swept him one of her finest curtsies. "How do you fare on this lovely evening, Commander Jalkan?" she asked of him.

Rikker kept his thoughts to himself, as Joan described the feeling of playing on the piano. He also enjoyed the feeling of ivory under his fingers, but Rikker's source of pleasure did not come from an instrument. If given the chance, though, he would be glad to show Joan his preferential method of creating harmony in two disjunct emotions. Namely, his amusement and her agony.

Rikker took note of her surprise, smiling politely. The flow of her feelings across her face was almost liquid, he could see her try to care, but then the tide of the drug overtook her and her features went lax again. There was really no reason to be suspicious of him. Rikker's position relegated him mainly to Earth, but like most of the military Commanders, he made his rounds to the New Moon to pay tribute. This was simply another one of those times. It was so close to the truth, it was barely a lie. Take away his intent to murder her not so softly, and they were just two people, reconiciling after one of the New Moon's ridiculous parties. Not many people got that far when it came to recovering from social missteps in the glistening marble halls. A rare enough event in itself to wonder about...

"Thank you, Lady Pollux." Rikker lifted her hand to his lips, brushing the back of it soundlessly, before letting all those delicate bones go again. The sweet scent of flowers lingered in the air. Rikker had to tone down his enhanced senses, lest the scent start to nauseate him. There were sometimes disadvantages to having superior abilities.

Rikker watched Joan go through the motions of flirtations. She performed better than most, but it was still a familiar dance. If he were interested in this sort of game, Rikker might be inclined to download a video feed from the security cameras and send it to Aberdeen. But that would just put the Neptunian man in another fit. And Rikker really had no guarantee that Aberdeen was not watching from wherever he was behind a fleet of screens.

"I'm all right, Lady Pollux. I just submitted my final report on an internal matter and am returning to my base on Earth tomorrow. Have you ever been to Earth? It's not as beautiful as here, or your planet I imagine, but it does have its perks." It was also a hub of terrorist activity, and any double agent worth her salt would have been making frequent trips.

Had she not been heavily under the influence of the drug called Xixil, Joan might have wondered why he was being so nice her. He worried little about insulting her race before, but now he seemed more... refined, somehow. Nonetheless, this mattered little to her. As long as she was enjoying her instruments and various people in her bed at certain hours of the day, what did it matter if a certain Jovian commander was being nice to her, even if he had been quite rude to her on previous occasions? Not at all, really.

Joan smiled coquettishly at the man as he rested his lips on the back of her hand for a second before gently letting her go. She wondered for a moment what it might feel like to have those strong, warm hands on other various parts of her body, caressing her. The Lunarians who had frequented her bed of late were entertaining to be sure, but not nearly as strong as this man. She wondered how else he might differ in that regard.

When he brought up the matter of going to Earth, providing a veritable distraction, Joan laughed jovially. "I must admit I have been Earth on a few occasions, but it does not quite measure up to Lunarian society, I'm afraid. I don't really see what the appeal is. It's a melting pot of loud, annoying races without any respect or grace." After a moment of silence, she shrugged nonchalantly, as if it mattered little to her. After a moment of silence in which her eyes traced his features, Joan reached down and grasped a glass of whatever alcoholic substance was readily available. Not really her taste - it was the typical weak Lunarian brand - but it got the job done.

A short moment later, she ran her finger along the keys the piano, touching them lightly. Looking up at him sideways from under her eyelashes, she inquired, "And what, may I ask, brings you to my humble little wing of the palace?" The coquettish smile returned. "One does not usually wander in accidentally."