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Good Governance

Scene details

  • Start date: Dec. 17, 2022, 9:41 p.m.
  • End date: Dec. 18, 2022, 4:01 a.m.
  • Location: Cosmopolis - Outlying Sprawl
  • Participants: Ivo Galvan, Fabroxo, Daiby

Setting: Ivo at last resumes his Cosmopolitan duties, joined by his senpai Daiby and his estimable colleague Fabroxo. A laboratory is installed in the governor's manor of the Seventeenth Turn of the Spiring City. What, as ever, could go wrong?

Log


 The Spiring City Cosmopolis is literally stratified by class. As it wends upward, stone piling upon itself and burying its past in dust and rubble, the bustle and detritus of magitech factories and manual labor give way to more tranquil and manicured environments. Eventually one reaches the courts and manors of the elect, the true aristocrats anointed by, and squabbling in the shadow of, the ruling Sorceress Potentate.
 But between the lower and the upper tiers are turns about the city sometimes forgotten by both. Minor aristocrats, whether fallen into obscurity or among the rare few elevated by deeds rather than birth, govern villages that manage commerce between above and below, producing something akin to a modest middle class. Long kept in their place by the sheer technological power of the aristocracy, those who dwell here are little better than commoners in terms of wealth. But they get a little more space, a little fresher air, a little more sun. And sometimes, if they are lucky in their leadership, they are even competently managed.
 "Hmmm...!"
 In the governor's manor of the middle tier district called The Seventeenth Turn, in a study the picture of shabby elegance, with paint peeling from delicately carved wooden ornamentation about a window from which sunlight spills, Ivo Galvan sits before a desk piled high with paperwork, reading it with incongruous enthusiasm.
 "They phrase it so persuasively, but..."
 He taps the paper he is reading with his pen, eyes narrowing even as they brighten, official stamp ignored by his side. Ivo had been basically a nobody only six months prior. A fine student at the academy, to be sure, but one among many. Likable, yes, with an amusing playful irony draped over a genuinely charming earnest curiosity, but not especially popular. His family was dogged by scandal, with his father first an upstart ascending to the nobility through strength of arms and marriage, then disgraced on the battlefield against the monstrous foes pouring from the Gate of Creation.
 But now, not only was he instrumental in the sealing of the Gate of Creation, but Reize's party's efforts had uncovered how Ivo's father was betrayed and unfairly maligned. The Galvan name is redeemed. The position of governor bestowed upon the family with a title has, technically, passed on to the son. All's well that end's well. Of course, considering all these ups and downs, for years now, the title of governor has been basically an ornament. The place runs itself, one way or another, or at least, whatever minor factions coexist here have struck a balance of power and maintained a status quo. Meddling nobles aren't supposed to *do* anything.
 "This crafting faire is obviously structured to suppress competition!"
 The young man grins with daring self-satisfaction.
 "We can't have that. First I'll confirm what competitors are based here and what products they're developing, then I'll prepare a counter-proposal..."
 Excitedly muttering to himself, jotting down notes, he seems not to notice or care that there remains an enormous pile of paper, and that this is literally the first one he has picked up and bothered to read. Look, he's been busy gallivanting about on ill-advised adventures, and making ill-advised pledges, and ill-advisedly inviting beautiful ex-classmates to his office in a vaguely show-offy way and then ill-advisedly forgetting about it once distracted with work.

  • Character: Daiby
  • 2 years ago


The places in the middle...

From whence come the MIDDLE CLASS.

The Sarasabattay family cluster is not the highest or most exalted, so Daiby finds the visitation of the realms of the "middle" class to be interesting, bracing, perhaps a little bit of the air of slumming it without actually slumming it. She is in the space where perhaps they would *adopt* some of the trends, even *marry* the highest of the highest without it being a major scandal. If there were new spires perhaps this would cause social mobility, but the truth may be that in the grand scale of things, it means the Sarasabattay are moving down.

But that's something for the future to worry about. Perhaps not even Daiby herself.

The first warning to Ivo is silent. Something moves, nearly silently but not *quite* silently, onto the top of one of his stacks of paperwork. Four pounds, two ounces, it is a brilliant gold-and-red corn snake; though such creatures live in the farms and plains of more temperate zones, it is descended from lines imported long ago. That's probably why the snake's eyes look like amethysts.

The second warning is the scent of recent citrus-forward scented hair washes.

The third warning is "Who's suppressing who, now?" from Daiby who is now also leaning on the stack of paperwork and looking downwards without announcing herself. It is tall enough that it's basically at 'stand a little leisurely' height for her to get her arm on it, and she is probably going to get citrus-forward scented hair wash on whatever the cover letter is.


 "Now then..."
 Having prepared his official missive, and thinking to himself that governance is more entertaining than he realized and perhaps he should have paid his office a visit sooner, Ivo reaches for his stamp to seal it. He idly reflects that the stamp has an unusual texture as he places it down upon the paper. When he lifts it, in place of an inked mark are two distinct hole punches.
 "...ah."
 His blood, much like his "stamp's," runs cold.
 His gaze swivels to the jewel-eyed snake in his grasp as a paradisiacal aroma wafts over him, like a taste of an afterlife to which he may promptly be destined.
 "S-s-s-sup--"
 He releases the hopefully merely confused serpent as he straightens in his chair, looking up at Daiby and, as he so often used to do, effortfully composing himself.
 "I-I'm suppressing the frantic pounding of my heart at your presence, my friend," he proclaims, in that special Ivo manner that combines a performance of suaveness that he's really putting his heart into with the obvious inability to keep it together. He was always like this with Daiby, so much more nervous than with other girls.
 "Y-you arrived sooner than I expected! Or has the time slipped by?"
 Even as he forces a light tone, his eyes repeatedly dart between her and the corn snake he only just mishandled.
 Yes, so nervous. He must really be into her.

  • Character: Daiby
  • 2 years ago


The snake looks up at Ivo, patiently, absorbing his warmth. When he lets the serpent loose, it slithers, as a snake much, towards its master. She lowers a hand to let the snake slide up her arm and lowers her eyelashes. "Oh, stop it~ It's too early in the day to get too steamy. And it'd spoil all your paperwork, besides!"

Daiby looks around. "This is awfully a lot, though. Are you clearing through a backlog? It's more like a backforest, at this scale."

"The second thingy," she adds, even as the snake starts to crawl up her sleeve. "How long have you been in here? Are you getting hungry, or does the mere prospect of filing sustain you, like a tree in the sun or a thermowyrm in a furnace?"



SOME TIME AGO
IN A COSMOPOLIS TECHNO-MANSION

There is a tea party. It is serene and peaceful, ladies and gentlemen in their finest, sipping delicately, chatting elegantly, and cutting loose like only cut-throat aristocrats in a constant social arms race with each other can.

But then, a not-distant-enough rumbling interrupts the friendly(?) atmosphere, rattling the varied fine chinas and ornate kettle assemblies. A confused murmur ripples through those assembled before a nearby wall explodes inward, a six foot tall ball of metal limbs thrashing wildly in every direction, followed closely by a greasy little man wielding a wrench half his height like a broadsword. He is screaming, and despite having nothing even resembling a mouth, the mechanical armball is ALSO screaming.

Then everybody else starts screaming, too.

NOW

HERE

Unlike some others who may delight in stealth and subtlety, there is rarely a scenario where Fabroxo, self-proclaimed genius of the century and frequent public nuisance, makes a quiet entrance. "IVO! IVO!" The door slams open abruptly, revealing the driving force behind the CCC's research and development apparatus, only slightly more beaten and singed than usual. "Ivo there's an emergency, why aren't you in your lab?! I need it!"


 Ivo exhales heavily as the snake withdraws, in what could be interpreted as a passionate sigh, maybe. He'd forgotten what being in the Snake Charmer's presence was like. Looking back, he thinks that at a certain point he'd not so much grown accustomed to her constant companions as he had acquired a kind of fatalistic resignation that one of them might kill him at any moment. He's not sure he wants that back. Granted, it might help.
 "A paper for every tree in the jungle I had to cross," he quips, gesturing at the backlog in question. Ivo's adventure to the Gate of Creation and back is so implausible it's most likely that, rather than it cause anyone to revise their opinion of him, they've just shrugged it off. He's much more inclined to spread positive rumors about his friends than himself, if only so he can more easily glide along the margins of different aspects of Cosmopolitan society, but he also doesn't deny what he accomplished in the Star Chasers. "Even with my father back in the court's good graces, he and my mother seem to have grown accustomed to their early retirement. But time and paperwork await no adventure."
 There is a loud pounding sound beginning to emerge from the manor's entrance, but Ivo ignores it now that he's regained his cool, flashing Daiby what he hopes is a winning smile. She was always lovely, and has only grown more so, to his mind.
 "I'd utterly forgotten the matter of meals," he says. The pounding grows louder. "You have a way of reminding me of pleasures of the flesh. Perhaps--"
 And Fabroxo bursts in. Ivo looks blank for only a moment at these abrupt demands, before, actually, he bursts into a grin.
 "Fabroxo! My friend, what a pleasant surprise! Daiby, let me introduce you." Without missing another beat, he gestures toward the ever-smudged inventor. "This is the Great Fabroxo, a brilliant magitechnician I met on my travels. Fabroxo, meet my esteemed classmate, Daibenzaiten."
 Spirits fully restored, Ivo cups his chin with his hand.
 "I've been meaning to finish updating the old laboratory here for use while we're away from Granse," he murmurs. He'd sometimes used facilities here during his school days. "Atelier Vanguards hasn't the space. I'm thrilled that you'll be joining me again, Fabroxo. But whatever could the emergency be?"
 Did the Make II Magitech Easy-Bake Oven go on the fritz?

  • Character: Daiby
  • 2 years ago


"Perhaps I can remind you," Daiby says. "Would you like to get some fresh, succulent, sizzling-hot --"

SLAM!

Somene comes running in for Ivo! Daiby, currently leaning saucily, watches the approaching Fabroxo. She puts a little more weight on the papers she's leaning on, slightly compressing them, even as she purses her lips in horror at the thought of THAT much paper being destroyed.

Deployed?

"Please, call me Daiby," says Daiby to Fabroxo, reaching out to offer him a hand. At this point a black snake with a triangular head emerges from the decolletage of her blouse, rising up along her dark skin to get up on her shoulder and look around at -- nothing in particular? Maybe this snake just sort of felt the vibe.



"What are you talking about, Ivo, how could anything other than maintainence of the proper facilities needed for experimentation and the general advancement of magitechnology be anything short of your highest priority? Don't you understand that--" Fabroxo stops short abruptly, as the fact that somebody who is not Ivo is present only now begins to sink in, despite the prior introduction. "Oh."

Fabroxo looks from Ivo to Daiby and then back again, before summoning up all the tact and consideration he possesses to navigate this unexpected social situation. "I'm sorry, I understand. You're young, you're pulled in every direction by your many unquenchable passions..." His gaze becomes unfocused for a moment, bound up in recollection, before he snaps his attention back to Daiby.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Daiby. I apologize for interrupting, Ivo, just tell me where your lab is and you can catch up when you're finished here. And both of you, don't forget to be responsible and properly hydrate." He pauses and looks between the two again, mumbling to himself, "So that's what he...? This does seem to match previous data..."


 Ivo momentarily seems mesmerized by Daiby's words, eyes fixated on hers, poised and still, like a, uh, well, charmed snake. His lips part in anticipation at words, or tastes, to come.
 But Fabroxo's litany tears the young man's attention away from her right about at the moment he cuts it short. "You're quite right, as always, my friend," Ivo gamely replies. The mad scientist's relentless determination won the dilettante over from the start. "Our experiments have been so promising, it would be disgraceful to conclude them prematurely. As it happens, Daiby here is a specialist at the intersection of magitech and animals as well. Snakes, to be exact. Fabroxo and I," he cheerfully appends, "have done some very interesting work with a distinct species of Gransean beetle."
 But his gaze turns curious as it drifts back to Fabroxo.
 "I want to hear about Fabroxo's unquenchable passions," he playfully remarks. "It sounds to me like there's a story here."
 It also sounds like there's a story about this so-called data, too, but Ivo seems keen to steer conversation away from that.

  • Character: Daiby
  • 2 years ago


Fabroxo makes a sensible assumption and Daiby blinks at him several times. Blink, blink. The snake does not blink, because snakes can't blink, but it has the same sort of air. "I don't understand you in the slightest, but I appreciate your warm thoughts very much, and any friend of dear little Ivo is a friend of mine. Please, take a few deep breaths. It sounds like you're in a real pinch right now!"

"I didn't know you had a LAB," Daiby asides to Ivo, looking back at him and leaning a little bit further against the stack of papers, *which is now compromised*. If she does not move back carefully they are going to topple over and RUIN EVERYTHING. Daiby DOESN'T CARE.

Or hasn't noticed.

"Is that blood on your lapel?" Daiby adds, pointing at a speck of something-or-other on Fabroxo. "Is it yours or a friend's?"



Fabroxo scowls at the mention of the beetle. "One can't help but wonder if its proximity to its self-generated magical admixture influenced its foul temperament, or if it is naturally a belligerent species."
He gestures dismissively.

"Regardless, I consider that primarily your project, Ivo, though obviously I've been happy to offer any insight into it that I can. I've simply been too busy to sustain an active role in the process, and even as we speak my weekly target efficiency quota is in danger of falling entirely out of reach thanks to the narrow-minded fools who refuse me re-entrance to my previous workspace, as if they've never seen an automatic stapler before."

SMASH CUT TO EARLIER, where Fabroxo straddles the enormous armball amidst the ruined remains of the tea party, beating it violently with his wrench. Nobody has stopped screaming.

Back in the office, Fabroxo scowls, fist clenching in righteous indignation at the all-too-recent memory.

"Hm? Blood? Oh, this, it may be a...tea stain?" Fabroxo pulls at his collar and gives it an experimental lick, pausing afterward to consider. "No, wonderful eye Miss Daiby, this is certainly my blood."


 "Lab is a flattering term for the facilities here at the moment," Ivo says, not wanting the leftovers from his student days in a converted room here to be a letdown. "But," he continues, brightening, "I think it's fair to say I've outdone myself when it comes to improvization on our travels. We transformed an abandoned druidic workshop in a ruined aqueduct into a bonafide aetheric engineering hub. I even took it upon myself to modify my father's Orbital Blade so that condensed elemental spheres can be installed in the pommel and--"
 He trails off for some reason, giving Fabroxo plenty of time to speak. That's right. He'd completely forgotten. He'd gotten carried away and told Daiby he would participate in the Cosmos Cup. Admittedly, it would be beneficial further testing for his modifications. But what if he gets hurt? What if he's embarrassed? What if his *dad* sees what he's done with his *sword*?
 Suddenly, his life feels as though it is teetering on the edge of collapse, like a conspicuous tall pile of paper that he should really be paying attention to and isn't.
 "What, uh--"
 Half to avoid calling attention to his reverie and participate in the conversation, and half to distract himself from his own realizations, Ivo ventures a query.
 "--what are you stapling?"
 Besides maybe his own lapel.

  • Character: Daiby
  • 2 years ago


"Oh, I didn't know you'd gotten into the beetles," Daiby says to Ivo, which is probably in part because this is the second time she's seen him since [ansi(+red,the incident)] and she has no idea what's "up to." She listens to Fabroxo but he confirms that it's his blood and it's not like, a LOT of blood, so it probably isn't a sign that he is, for instance, deeply punctured, and fixing to die.

She reaches over to stroke the head of her black adder, who crawls up to coil a little on her shoulder. She shifts her arm - not the one holding up the papers. "Stapling's a sensitive operation," Daiby offers. "It's up there with folding, spindling and mutilating. I hope you've had guidance on your stapler, or you'll soon find yourself getting attached!"

The black snake's tongue flicks out. ha ha, snake is amused

("That sounds clever! What do they do after the affixture," Daiby adds, regarding the Orbital Blade.)



"Anything and everything, obviously. Long have I thought the artificial, socially imposed limitations on stapling have been a thorn in the side of progress, and as such I determined to create an apparatus capable of rapid autonomous joining, though proper target designation is the area in which I've struggled the most in the course of development."

A SHORT TIME AGO ONCE AGAIN, Fabroxo hunches, panting and bloody, over a broken pile of mechanical arms. A rattling, mechanical voice echoes out weakly, "Why could...I not...unify...creation? Fa...ther...." With a sharp electric hiss and pop, it then goes completely silent. There is a loud clang as Fabroxo drops his wrench to the floor, wiping at his teary eyes with his sleeve, smearing a fresh layer of grease across his face.

NOW AGAIN, Fabroxo feels himself getting misty-eyed again. "More than you know," he mutters to Daiby. "More than you know."


 "Well--"
 Ivo is about to expound on his innovations in magitech fencing. Admittedly, his means of channeling elemental aether into his floating blade is somewhat crude, but the real ingenuity is how he pulled it off in the middle of Granse, without access to Cosmopolitan resources. Even so, he can never bring himself to interrupt one of Fabroxo's soliloquoys. The man's passion is awe-inspiring.
 The emotional response that follows is unexpected. Silence falls upon the room as Fabroxo's mysterious yet poignant comments are left to echo. Long seconds pass.
 "Lunch, anyone?"
 Smiling, Ivo claps his hands together in anticipation, beginning to rise from his chair. As he takes a breath to begin describing the best local tavern and its offerings, already looking forward to the work that must be done upon what will become a proper laboratory here, the reverberations of his movements jostle the desk ever so slightly.

  • Character: Daiby
  • 2 years ago


Daiby raises her eyebrows at what Fabroxo says. "... By the heavens," she says, "I had no idea that stapling was so fraught. You've really been struggling out there, haven't you? It's no wonder Ivo found you appealing, Doctor," is he a doctor? he seems sort of doctory to Daiby anyway. "You have that air of courage, of determination, that I know he finds so... *attractive.*"

A SHORT TIME AGO: Daiby actually didn't do anything particularly horrible a short time ago. She is probably going to end up staring at some of these chaotic congeries of deadly mechanical arms one of these days, and her probable response will be "D8"

HERE THOUGH, FOR REAL:

"Lunch!" Daiby says, clapping her hands -

- which she does at the luncheonette as well!

"The Luncheonette" is a place which provides the opportunity for, yes, the lunch. Since this is a space inside of the Middle Class sections, it is not laden with attendants and luxurious opportunities to squeeze your own fresh lemon juice -- or have a minion do it for you -- to make your lemonade, grown with painstaking care all but at your tableside. No, here it's just pretty good.

This particular place has ranges of glass-fronted spaces in serried rows, sorted by cuisine and topic, and allows you to use your coin to obtain Lunch Tokens from a weathered-looking old man. "We're between shifts, so you get the better rate," he says, along with a "heh heh heh!" to Ivo, who he vaguely recognizes.

But leave Konzu alone. Daiby had gone through and made selections: Some sort of tomato-heavy stew featuring -- beans? and... is that meat or is it a dark fruit? It's hard to say... the basket of seven herb-infused crackers made more sense... as did the slice of pie, though chocolate cream with slivered kiwi fruit is an unusual choice. That's also probably coffee, although it's a deep navy blue. It is not clear what the faintly luminous translucent green orb on an egg-cup stand is. Nor the side-tined spoon it came with.

"Is this your first time in a luncheonette?" Daiby asks Fabroxo.

And to Ivo, she asks, "Want to have a bit of this pie?"



Fabroxo nods absentmindedly to himself as Daiby lavishes flattery upon him, accepting it as his natural due, at least until the very last thing Daiby says shocks him out of it. "A...attractive?" He stares at Ivo until a screenwipe deposits him in the lunch zone.

There, he still appears distracted, scribbling furiously in a small notebook with a large black I scrawled on the front cover. He doesn't even look up as he answers, "Sadly, Miss Daiby, I must say that I, the great Fabroxo, have little time for sitting meals in establishments such as this! For nourishment, I typically rely on my own blend of nutrional slurry, in one of three fantastical flavors. BEHOLD!" He produces a small tube, oozing a bright green paste from one end.

"Purple flavor!" Fabroxo graciously lays the tube next to the assortment of other delicious(?) foods, a space in which it stands out less than you might expect. "In fact, it would be remiss of me not to share the recipe with this fine eatery, so all might know the intense bliss of fifty five different secret ingredients, in a careful formulation to slowly digest over the course of 108 hours, providing an unrivaled supply of nutrition and mental stimulation. Pardon me, Ivo, Miss Daiby."

Caught up in his own excitement, Fabroxo stands and begins to walk to the counter. "LUNCH MAN, TRY MY ENERGY PASTE!"