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ROLL: Maximus +rolls 1d20 for a result of: 4
*
The preparation for this long term mission were not simple, nor was the flight too comfortable, but Laynia is finally here in the United States. A land that for so long has been engraved in her mind as the Capitalist enemy, and yet now she's here to serve in a conjoined taskforce that will benefit the USA just as well as the USSR. That was an odd undertaking, and just like people were edgy towards her so far during her extremely brief stay, so she's been a bit edgy around them. It's her first open mission on foreign land, and she means to make the best of it. For now, however, she draws a very unlikely image wearing her Soviet uniform while standing in Central Park. She has security accompanying her in the vicinity, but they mostly keep watch to avoid incidents. Things might be simpler after she's had a chance for a change of clothes. So at least she doesn't stick out like a sore thumb in public.
*
ROLL: Maximus +rolls 3d20 for a result of: 30 [5 5 20]
*
At risk of sounding like a nationalist, Skali chewed on her tongue instead of audibly groaning at the sight of the fully uniformed woman standing in the midst of Central Park. Accompanied by her boss' war mastiff, the wolf god was attired in a deep green skirt and jacket ensemble that hugged her curves, plain woolen fabric that gave way into thigh high stockings. With the chill of winter threatening ice on these morning walks, the woman had decided to simply keep her boots on instead of trying to manage heels. Now the deep tread set crunched down on the frost encased blades of grass and her lips twitched.
"Comrade Kapitan."
Skali waited until she was a short distance away, having walked the circuitous pathway as if simply entertaining her dog until the trajectory brought her close enough to make introductions without drawing attention. Now she paused though, inclining her head in a polite nod, smiling in that knowing fashion that only an Asgardian deity descended from the Trickster himself could manage. The accent was flawless, developed through years lived in the Soviet block where the wilds were still untouched and wealth was measured in only possessing what was necessary to survive, and not material want for the need of possession.
*
A couple of Russians…and a King walk into a park. It sounds like the start of a really nasty joke about regimes, but as it happens, its just actually what's happening. Maximus comes with his own set of 2, a blond and a brunette male, dressed in tan suits. The blond is behind him a bit, looking this way and that and PARTICULARLY concerned about the military presence in the area. The brunette man is even with Maximus and he speaks with an urgent tone.
"Sire, we should go back to the hotel. This is dangerous exposure."
Maximus looks disgruntled, heavily, definitely not in a good mood, his brow furrowed. "It doesn't matter what YOU want. " And he actually reaches out and gives his guard a shove on the shoulder, his tone quite nasty. The guard looks like his feelings are hurt. Maximus' eyes flick to the two women and the mastiff, his gaze just plain hateful, without cause.
*
The security tasked with accompanying Laynia don't prevent anyone from approaching the Soviet Officer, at least not as long as they are well mannered, they are mostly there to ensure she doesn't happen by a bigot who may affect her opinion of the United States. As such, for the time being, they don't get involved, respecting Laynia's request for fresh air and a moment on her own.
When Laynia hears Skali greeting her in the most unexpected manner, she turns to look her way, "zese are words I dit not expect hearink, comrade." She seems to appreciate being addressed by rank, as she offers her name, "Laynia Petrovna, vho I haf pleasure meetink?" She doesn't seem in the least bit concerned about the mastiff, and with Maximus looking from afar, she says nothing to him for the time being. Though she's certainly looking his way, taking note of the regal manner with which he carries himself. He does not look like newly appointed President Johnson, so she wonders why he carries himself in such a manner.
*
The golden eyes rise up from the moment of deference observed in meeting a superior officer, introducing herself easily as she continued in a confident Russian cadence that suggested a long time spent in the Extreme North.
R "Private Skali."
Despite a presentation that suggested shared nationality, the name did not speak of a traditional lineage in the Soviet Union. A hand dropped, rubbing behind the ears of the large beast as it leaned into her thigh, a tongue lolling as it panted happily despite this intrusion into their morning routine. The neck of the creature tensed, and the mastiff turned its head to consider the approaching man and his flanking guardsmen over a thick set of shoulders, a hackling beginning down the spine of the brute. While the two women may have considered the encroaching royalty a passing nuisance, the mastiff was of a more serious opinion. At his low growl, Skali murmured a word of calm before following his attentions,
R "A friend of yours'?"
*
"Sire." Plaintiff, pleading, from the brunette guardsman. Maximus turns towards him and stares a moment. The guard cools instantly, falls silent and back behind the man in the black suit. As he comes closer and the dog gets grumpy about it, he hisses, "Oh trala/la/. A little /hound/ thinks it sees a villain. That's how it is with hounds, you know. You think they're loyal," He starts talking to the ladies despite them clearly being in a conversation together. "but its just a beast. Loyal dogs are one advantage away from being someone else's dog." His lips twitch. "Like you two. Loyal dogs to…what is that? Russia?" Maximus starts laughing. "Ohhh, you understand exactly what I mean. Russia killed its Kings."
*
"<Private Skali,>" Laynia shifts to Russian when it's made apparent that Skali, as shocking as it may seem, is actually a private in the Soviet Army. Quite unexpected indeed. "<what is it that you do in the United States? A mission? Leisure?>" She sounds a bit dubious at the prospect of leisure.
Looking over towards Maximus, Laynia shakes her head in the negative "<not at all, a stranger>".
Obviously, when Maximus injects himself to the conversation, Laynia turns her full attention on him. Her brown eyes set a none too favoring gaze on him, as she shifts back to English for his behalf. "You haf issue wiz Bolshevik Revolution?" She doesn't seem too impressed with Maximus, to put it mildly, "we hat Tsar, not Kink." It seems for the time being she's still considering whether to teach Maximus a lesson for daring to call a Captain of the Soviet Army a dog or not. She still has the diplomatic assignment to the ACT-F at hand. Flashing her powers now was probably not the wisest, and so she just stares daggers into Maximus. "I vould expect gentleman apologize," she notes without outright requesting. In a manner, putting it to Maximus that if he doesn't apologize, he is no gentleman.
*
The mastiff had fallen into silence at his mistresses gentle touch, allowing the well-dressed woman to consider this opponent. Consider him she did, the nature of her attire plain enough to understate the pride obvious in her stature as well as her beauty. The delicate feminine chin lifted defiantly and the humor only broadened, a wicked grin widening her smile until it took on an unhinged quality.
"Every dog will turn if the hand that feeds it favors brutality."
A toss of her dark curls was favored as the Kapitan cut in, allowing her question to hang in the air before continuing in a tone that was anything but diplomatic. Skali was passably American, and could fake it in relevant courts. When falsities failed, she had Asgardian diplomatic immunity. By the time she spoke, a cigarette had been lighted, the pack held out to the other two after lighting her own. A slow drag was taken and she elaborated in English for the benefit of the newest stranger.
"However, the Republics are not dogs. Every extension of the Union is a different member of a whole; a pack of lithe and hunting things that shares all it claims and thrives as a whole. The Union does not keep subjects, serfs, slaves, consumers. There are wolves, and there are sheep. Which are you?"
*
"I am beyond animal, and beyond apology." Maximus answers, his guards so close behind him, so exact. Perfect. "Who are you? Why are you even here?" Bright blue eyes survey Skali, and her long hair, then the Kaptain, with her more properly uniformed self. He narrows his gaze, then, and tilts his head to the side, like he's working something out. "Are you here to take advantage of the presidential loss? I could be interested."
*
While she's very good at masking her emotions, there's something of a glint in Laynia's eyes when she listens to Skali undertaking the sort of reply she could not at this moment in time. She is pleased with Skali making her point for her. "It appears you are also beyont satyink informed," Laynia teases Maximus for not catching on to what surely have been the most discussed item of the day, as far as the reason a Captain of the Soviet Army arrived in the United States.
"As you are beyont apology, so we are beyont friendship, goot day." Not about to fall into obvious traps, she assumes Maximus was sent by Capitalists propagandists, and she will not play into their hands. "<You keep doing your comrades proud, Private Skali,>" She speaks her parting in Russian to Skali, before nodding at the security accompanying her and starts walking with them to the next destination in her itinerary.
*
"Yes, I always announce my anti-governmental tendencies to strangers I meet in the park that insinuate I'm a dog."
Despite the nature of her commentary, there was humor in her tone, the cigarette carton closed and settled back into a jacket pocket. The beast was already moving, Skali joining its angle in opposing half circle, the two pacing to complete a full circle around the small party of guardsmen and the man they attended to with a keen curiosity. Her nostrils flared as she took in their scent, and then wrinkled her nose at whatever she found underneath the haze of cigarette smoke. Whatever she discovered was not commented on, her odd predatory consideration of this stranger completed as she came to stand next to the Kapitan once more.
< "The honor is mine, thank you, Comrade.">
Her brow drops in proper acknowledgement of rank, though not willing to commit to a full salute under such circumstances as a public park in New York City. The cigarette smoke wreathes around her features and she glances back to the man before muttering idly to nobody but perhaps the dog, returned to her side once more,
"Going to need to get me some man servants or something. Seems to be the fashion at the moment."
*
Maximus flashes a curling, threatening sort of grin at the two of them, tempted by madness to twist everything around, to assault, to inflict. Its only his actual mission that keeps him from it, knowing he has something to /do/, that could be hindered by suddenly starting a fight in the middle of central park. He continues walking though he does breathe out, "…peasants." that can be heard at some point. His guards continue to be voiceless at the moment, eyes protective, but no more emotion comes from them, unlike the rather grumpy Maximus.
*