View source for 2023-05-13: ?whose game are you playinG

*'''Log:''' ?whose game are you playinG
*'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Yuliana Kafim]], [[Character :: Michele Luio]]
*'''Where:''' Orb Union Theatre Hall
*'''Date:''' 2023-05-13
*'''Summary''': ''Michele corners Yuliana after one of the Silent Calling's outreach meetings to discuss Rita -- and gets her to agree to terms. Yuliana will keep Michele alive, though she's made so many enemies. Neither of them are particularly happy with the other, but they can work with each other, for now.''
----

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Phase 1, Turn 3]]

 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Another day, another meeting -- whatever meaning one ascribes to it, Yuliana is working ''hard'' to reach these people. In black robes and a green accordion-folded cloak, like a dragon's great wings, she sweeps across the stage with her visionary declarations. They offer solutions; they offer aid. The Silent Calling has come again, and asks only for a listening ear.

        Having directed the crowd to mindfulness meditation and various strategies to cope with the strain of the Federation's recent aggression, though, now the meeting has ended; the people eat in the lunch area off of the main meeting-hall, as Yuliana directs her people to pack up the A''V equipment. They are... diligent, in their work. Focused. Not much for chatter.

        This isn't about them.

        Towards the back of the stage, Yuliana puts away some papers. Her teal hair is down to her neck, now, and even with her back turned -- that distinctive gold tiara can be seen, the way the thick gold wings stretch out behind her ears. It's a striking decoration.

        There aren't that many people back here, now the preaching's done.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Michele Luio has posed.
<poem>

Michele Luio, unlike her previous meeting, came much more...subdued. As subtle as she could. Sun hat (taken off when respectful to do so), glasses, hair in a different style, different way of dress.

Yuliana would see right through it. She was an REA operative once. Michele was planning on that.

Once the preaching is done, and people are flocking away, Michele approaches the back, removing and folding the fake glasses before pocketing them. Her long hair is in a ponytail, eyes sharply watching Yuliana.

"You know, you seem to do good work here. Some of those tips I'll even use, Kafim."

There's a thin smile on her face, once Yuliana finally is focused on her. "I'd like to talk with you about our mutual interest, if you have the time."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Yuliana's done the sunglasses bit ''herself,'' many times. To get around Fujinomiya, most recently, but certainly before then just the same. Which means, yes -- she ''can'' recognise it, when Michele steps up.

        (She didn't, when she was part of a crowd. Yuliana's good, but she ''can't'' track Michele by her violations, so there's only so much she can do. And the crowds coming to these events have been getting bigger and bigger, lately...)

        Yuliana straightens, though, and turns -- and smiles, when she looks Michele in the eyes. (Her own are stranger, now. More endless, and less obvious where she's looking.) "I want to help people," she insists, "because there were people willing to help me."

        And she certainly ''sounds'' as though she believes that.

        She nods, gesturing Michele closer. "Please, go ahead. They won't be a problem," she looks to the men packing up the equipment. "Have you learned anything new, perchance?" Yuliana leans on the far wall of the meeting hall, casual, friendly. Her smile's not so thin -- or at least, it doesn't appear to be.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Michele Luio has posed.
<poem>

"A noble goal. I wish I had that spirit." Michele says, partially genuine. She *wished it*, now she wishes for other things.

"I have. But, before I do...I need to know. I need to know exactly what you're going to do if you 'win' this hunt."

The smile sharpens. "I'm here civilly, but we aren't friends or allies. We're chasing the same ghost...and what you say next decides how our future relationship works out. After all, I doubt our goals can co-exist."

Michele places her hands together. "But we don't have to be fighting each other first, necessarily. The Sleeves are chasing her too. Enemy of my..." She doesn't finish the sentence.
</poem>


 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Yuliana raises a brow, arms folding loosely across her chest. Strangely, her cloak's able to wrap about her even though she's not grasping it. Maybe there's a draft.

        (There isn't a draft.)

        "I can't allow her to exist as she is," Yuliana says, still quite cordial. "... because the way she is now, she soon will cease to exist." As soon as the Void consumes reality, that is.

        It's a ghost-killing existence. All their ghosts are dead.

        "But her fate worse than death is evidently enough ''not'' death," Yuliana goes on, lifting her fingers in a loose fan. "She yet thinks, and reasons, and struggles. My wife is powerful woman, Michele. If I can bring the Phenex home, I am confident we will be able to...  restore her to a rightful physical existence."

        Idly her eyes flick to the mindless tasks of the crew she's brought with her. Her lip curls. "She will protest the methods, I'm sure," she says, looking back to Michele, "but nothing is gained without sacrifice. She will see things my way. She will be grateful for the Void's embrace, then."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Michele Luio has posed.
<poem>

Michele listens to Yuliana carefully. A good plan. A solid plan. The motives are suspect, but Michele can't fault it.

"I like that. Unfortunately...I've been doing this hunt much longer than you have. I'm not giving her up to you. It's not philosophical - even if I don't entirely buy what you're selling although there's merit in some parts - but it is personal. You devouring her ghost or you bringing her back, doesn't matter if you were to reverse time to before it happened."

"She's mine to save."

A pause, as Michele clears her throat. "Though, you're a useful distraction. The Sleeves already know her next location, and I've obtained it. Perhaps I'll give it to you, too, if you give me a good enough reason besides 'bait'."

"You see, I hold the cards, and there's a time limit. Worst you could do here is kill or kidnap me, and that'll bring the clamp of my family's fortune down on your entire operation. So you have no choice but to play ball."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        Yuliana's eyes narrow. "As if you already held her in hand? She's not yours to ''give.''" Her fingers tighten, against the padded muscle of her arms. "And you're mistaken if you think you're the only one who's bled with that woman."

        And she scowls. "You can't just -- go back in time. You don't get a do-over after you die." Isn't that logical? Isn't that how reality works?

        "If you're flinching about using ''humans,'' I'm sure you don't ''have'' to -- it wouldn't even be the first time we've offered, and that's not even a power limited to ''us,'' if one grants that erasing one woman creates a new one in her wake --"

        Whatever Yuliana might mean by that, though, she cuts herself off. "Tch," she spits out the sound, one leg bending to press her heel against the wall. "Since when have I been anything ''but'' bait to you, hm? I'll tell you now, I don't appreciate being ''used.''" The woman who Rita will show up to save --

        Yuliana doesn't like being in that position, either.

        She takes a breath; she closes her eyes. Count to ten. The REA never helped her, but Elisa has.

        "... what do you want?" She asks, at length, looking to Michele again.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Michele Luio has posed.
<poem>

"I don't flinch." Michele says, adamant. She doesn't push on 'the only one who bled' or 'yours to give' - her expression reads as undeniable fact that Rita is hers.

"You don't have to appreciate anything. That's the beautiful part. Rita will be spared that fate you hate so much, and all you have to do is play the game."

Michele, though, lingers on the question. She finally decides. "You don't have much to give, but you can keep me alive long enough to accomplish my goals. I expect friendly fire during the next hunt. Make sure my ship survives with me alive, no matter who wins. If I die, I'll make sure you come crashing down with me. Who knows, maybe I'll incentivize with a donation to your lovely group."

"So?" Michele looks almost impatient. Like she's in control here, being hassled by *Yuliana*.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        "So you don't," Yuliana grumbles.

        She's tense. She doesn't ''like'' playing someone else's game, but she can see perfectly well that she and Michele are both moving Rita across the gameboard. If she didn't care about the outcome, she'd be able to shred Michele's beauty to pieces. But --

        But. Complete statement.

        "I see you've dispensed with flattery," Yuliana says, lips thin as they press against each other. "As if I'd offer you nothing." She frowns, gaze flicking past Michele to focus on a tied-off curtain, to the side. This is supposed to be a theatre hall. How fitting the players are on the stage.

        Yuliana sighs, looking back to the other woman. "You ''really'' ought to work on making friends and influencing people," she reflects, dryly, "but -- fine. I'm not the sort to run out of the room when ''you're'' screaming for help." She is an engine which runs on spite, and she has not forgotten. "I can make sure you get out of this one alive. But why should I trust ''your'' plan, when I have ''proof'' mine works?"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Michele Luio has posed.
<poem>

Michele actually replies to the reflection. "I won't need that soon enough."

She doesn't flinch despite the recollection of Yuliana screaming for help. She regrets not doing anything, but the truth is that she's only ever had one goal.

"Because I'm one of the Miracle Children, even if I'm the only one who can't make miracles. But Jona? He can. He's the most important person to this plan. And once he's in place...Rita will choose him, no matter what. She'd transcend death itself to reunite with him. Even more than she would you."

"Metis, Side 6. It's a college colony. She goes in and out every couple of days. I've predicted she'll be there this upcoming week. I'll make sure you get the exact details."

Michele takes a step back, gesturing subtly in 'gratitude'. "I'm counting on you."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
<poem>

        "Heh," Yuliana grins, with no warmth to it. "I really can't stand seeing myself in you." She doesn't need friends... how many times has she repeated that?

        But she's found that having friends has been ''deeply'' convenient. Elisa's been very encouraging about the whole affair, too. Even if she can't really ''trust'' them... it's nice to ''have'' them.

        Michele speaks of Jona, though, and the sharpness in Yuliana's expression thins back out. Her eyes narrow, again. "You're the only one who escaped whole. The damage done to them... I still can't fathom why you play at it." The damage she's talking about, of course, is their psychic resonance. She doesn't suspect ''Michele'' at all.

        Maybe that's a grim confirmation of her normality, given how Yuliana can ''tell.'' A Miracle Child who cannot perform miracles...

        She nods, just the once. "... all right. Since Rita will be there, I'll be there, too. And you'll live to regret it, Michele. I'll make sure of that."

        It's not a promise to follow her plan, but perhaps there are enough component parts of it for her to work with.

        But Yuliana doesn't move to stop Michele, as she steps back, to kill or kidnap her or some other third, worse option. Even knowing all she knows, she just... lets her go.

        Perhaps she's more unsettled than she's letting on.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Michele Luio has posed.
<poem>

"Don't discard potential tools in your toolbox. If I need to be the Newtype prophetess, so be it." Michele says, turning on a heel.

"Oh, I'm sure you will. Have a good day, Kafim." She redons her glasses for the exit, looking smug.

Soon, this will all be over. No matter what happens, if she can just succeed on one thing...

Michele bitterly smiles as she exits the crowd, leaving on that thought. Hell will be a paradise for her, in a way.
</poem>