1964-11-13 - In Good Social Graces
Summary: Maximus minds his behaviour.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
maximus chance sine 

Attilan's council room is the envy of all architecture in the fabled city. Nothing else in the world quite approaches the smooth, organic lines or the collective of minds gathered there, all wearing the formal robes of office on account of the fact late autumn in high elevation is terribly cold. The subtleties define each councilor in their own ways, if the physical appearances didn't sufficiently convey how very, very different they are.
Some effort to provide a soothing environment remains, the tumbling fountain transmuting air molecules into pristine water that collects in a crystal bowl. Glasses arranged on a thin stand allow for refreshment. Beyond that, the creature comforts are mostly stowed away and left to the realm of the mind.

|ROLL| Maximus +rolls 1d20 for: 10

Pale wraith, they call Lelantos the ghost-talker behind his back and rarely to it. A shock of pearl hair jaggedly sweeps back from his brow, practically sculpted into points by the stiff breeze. He doesn't drift in, walking purposefully. His stride parts the deep, cloud-black robe he wears over a black suit on principle. "Let's be done already, shall we?" His crisp enunciation cuts over a very quiet voice. No one will be calling him mealy-mouthed.

Striding in with a calm confidence, Cynas is a striking figure: it isn't only her golden hair and skin, but the strength and confidence of her gaze and the way she carries herself. Called the Guardian of the People, she is known to be a woman who does not lightly bend when it comes to protecting and serving the inhumans of Attilan. She walks in with Iphis, murmuring softly of something that sounds technical, but once the two arrive and Lelantos speaks, she inclines her head with a nod, "Certainly."

Iphis walks with a light grace and an air of serenity, even though she looks a little pale and under the weather at the moment, "Indeed."

The former King and aspiring future-one, does know how to walk, talk, and make an entrance like a royal. He has a guard with him, one of the palace guards, that stops at the entrance to the council chamber as Max continues to move in. He has his hands at his sides, moving with shoulders back, and a calm pace. His black hair is left wild, and he wears a more subtle attire, cleverly chosen to appear more…humble, while also housing some underarmor protections given the current state of affairs. His facial hair is short and neatly trimmed. "Honored Council…" he begins, with a spread of his hands upon approach, which ends with drawing them towards himself to steeple the fingers against each other in front of his stomach. He dips his head, "I appreciate the bend of your ears to a…" he lets out a half-laugh sort of sound, "very concerning situation among Our People."

"Tea for you afterwards, dear councilor," Lelantos says, folding his hands under the somewhat abundant sleeves. There really can be no good way to deal with that much fabric. "Three cups a day keeps dread Makhaon away." He drifts away into the usual demeanor of someone watchful and actively listening rather than chatting. Getting three words out of him all meeting constitutes his chatty side. The inbound Boltagon shuts down those little niceties that come with clear concern for Iphis' well-being. No one really wants to unleash Makhaon's remedies; they taste like fermented beets and chopped sea urchin roe. A certain watchfulness simmers those dark, still eyes.

"The wellfare of our people are indeed, our concern, Maximus Boltagon." Cynas replies with a slight nod of her head, and a glance over to Iphis, though the laugh from the youngest son of Agon has he arching a golden brow slightly.

Iphis nods her head with encouragement towards Maximus, smiling with a gentle if alert and serious way. "Speak freely, please. If there is a matter that needs our attention, then it shall have it."

"Yes!" Dark brows loft in an animated response. "There is! And while it seems to have thrust myself into the middle of it, and some sort of rallying cry, there is a deeper issue. I do not fear for myself as much as for the people of Attilan, those who have lived here, /belonged/ here, and who treasure it. You see, certainly you must be aware that a group is trying to excite the populace against the Royal Family, and the Council, for not bringing about my death, as they would have. They tried to assassinate me, and instead nearly killed an outside ally, one I have cultivated among the powered humans." Maximus paces, and lifts one hand, gesturing sideways with it. "But more importantly, one of their ranks was apprehended, and revealed that they are made up of /outsiders/…those who have been allowed in, out of exile. Many of these people were exiled for a reason…and now that generous, open-armed welcome has allowed dissidents, traitors and /cowards/ into our great city, to infect our people with their views of the outside, which, as you know, is full of war…and distrust."

Lelantos does not interrupt the speech, for speech it is. He as alert to the words and the reactions. His hands remain still beneath the smoky robe gathered around him. The third part of the triumvirate asked to bear witness, he is the one most given to watch instead of interrupting or questioning. Indeed, he all but trusts Iphis to interpret the obvious holes in logic or the gaps in a narrative.

"Is our city not called the Great Refuge?" inquires Cynas calmly, "And are these people not inhumans, different from us only by situation? How many are not in fact exiles, for it is not as though we exile people often, but those descended from those lost in the outside world?"

Iphis looks far more sympathetic, nodding to Maximus and frowning in a slight way, "The attempted murder is, of course, concerning and something we can not tolerate. The Guard will continue to investigate this matter; that a son of Agon could have his life at risk in *Attilan* is unthinkable."

Maximus wets his lips. "Who is to know who is a dangerous former exile…and who has merely been persueded by their rebellious nature, until we know who these dissidents are? Murder has been attempted. Murder will be attempted again. No matter the rest of their message, that such action could be a cause to bring a conversation to any table is unthinkable. A trial will give a voice to such a traitor, and I do fear for the safety of our people if we are /divided/." He curls his fingers into a fist and lifts it slightly. "Exalted councilors, they must be found, and imprisoned, for those that would go against the will of Attilan, would betray her to the world beyond if sent into exile again. All who know of Attilan, and would bring strife to her doorstep…threaten us."

"Where is Gorgon?" The question drops into the void from a man about as expressive as a shaodw with nebulae for eyes. Though in Lelantos' case it's the inversion to the statement representing him physically. He briefly checks Iphis, her warmth compensated by the extent of cold. He rubs his thumb against his pointer finger, and then recedes back into stillness. Let it be on record he opened his mouth about something pertinent other than tea.

Cynas sighs faintly, shaking her head, "You would have us imprison those who oppose you politically, for simply being an opposition. No trial. No justice. The Council has guided Attilan since the dawn of our civilization, but it has done so with fairness balanced with the greater good for Inhumanity. You would have us be tyrants in your name. The matter of outsiders knowing about us… is a separate issue, a separate matter. I tell you this, though: I have seen that it is inevitable. Their technology, while still primitive in many ways, is advancing enough that we will not be secure here forever."

Iphis frowns slightly, sighing, "I agree, we can't rely on secrecy for security. But that is indeed a separate matter. Maximus, those guilty of trying to kill you will *certainly* be brought to justice, and I agree, we should look into these … dissidants. I don't know if they need jailing all, but those who *are* must be dealt with."

Maximus lets his eyes fall upon Cynas for a moment, "Gorgon? Ahhh…my cousin? I have not seen him in weeks. Corvus has been more adept than Gorgon, of late. As for the matter of the dissidents…you underestimate what it would do…to you…if they are given a platform to vent their grievance. You see, it is not just me that they hate, but you as well, and my brother, and my cousins. Be careful…what trial you hold, or you may find yourself out of a job, under the heel of an invisible stalker with no problem in killing to get his or her way." Maximus lowers his voice, his eyes sharp and steeled, "I have never had a problem in making difficult or unpopular decisions, so…consider that…when you ponder how to deal with them. I would be happy to take the blame for their destruction." A pause. "If it comes to that. Any…sacrifice…for Attilan."

Lelantos curls his particularly pale fingers, outlined in almost greyish pallor against his fine garment. He chooses the moment to retreat to fetch refreshments from the elemental fountain, the spinning flow barely interrupted when he angles the vessel to meet the water. The cool shock doesn't cause him to speak out in any sense. A brief look at Cynas or Iphis affords either woman opportunity to request their own glass; can he juggle three? Probably without too much trouble. Just a common garden variety Inhuman still manages those feats untroubled. "No Corvus," he notes in that raspy soft voice, thumbing the side of the glass to urge a spare drop to fall back into the cool basin.

The gold skinned Councilor frowns slightly, shaking his head, "The Council is not subject to the will of the people; and while these dissidants may not approve of us, that does not make them a danger to us. No. Instead, we should reach out to them to bring them into the fold. They are a tiny minority and no amount of words will turn the people against the Council, they know we protect and safeguard them. Those directly involved in trying to murder you, certainly, must be dealt with for their crime. Those unhappy with what happened to them should not be thrown away— again— as if they have no value to our people."

Iphis glances at Cynas and shakes her head slowly, "How often is murder committed in Attilan? You know my position on the matter of secrecy, but it is the House of Agon that is in danger. That is one of our most valuable lineages, and must be safeguarded."

Maximus draws in a deep breath and swallows, changing his manner to project concern, bravery amidst fear, painting a picture with his expression of a bereaved victim, "I fear that the matter is even graver than you think. Since my brother led SHIELD here, the humans here, they have been aware of us, and may very well know of our terrigen. I cannot fight you on the matter of our open doors, or the future of our secrecy, but it does seem strange that these former-exiles, outcasts, would kill the one man in Attilan capable of creating more." He rests his hand on his chest.

Water goes to Lelantos' lips. He drinks slowly of the clear, shockingly cold beverage. All hail the work of those talented water-shapers. Not even Crystal herself could do as well because she happens to be out of the council chamber. Easy comparison to make then. Seeing that neither other councilor requires libations, he returns to their company with the contents of his glass casually swirled around in a chasing run. "How did they become exiled in the first place, Maximus Boltagon?"

"What does it matter if these humans know of terrigen? It is useless to them, if not outright dangerous. Even if it were possible to reverse-engineer the crystals to be useful for humans, they could not do so. They barely comprehend genetics." But, Maximus' final words causes Cynas to pause, arching a brow slightly, "You can create terrigen." The statement is almost but not quite a question.

Iphis's eyes widen, "You have unlocked the secret?"

Maximus wets his lips and he turns slowly to face the trio again. To Lelantos, he speaks first, his chin lifting a small degree, "Dangers to Attilan, of course." A blanket statement to cover political threats as well as actual ones, like no doubt exiling the occassional derranged Inhuman, or those of a criminal nature. But…also his rivals. Probably that girl that wrote him that nasty letter that one time. It wasn't all roses, and he just ignores it. "No, the humans would not /want/ the terrigen for themselves. Obviously not. Except, possibly, to use it as a weapon. Which would be beyond foolish. No, the humans, and whoever else, the longer and more we are exposed, could discover that removing our very finite supply of it is all it would take to /end us/. In 50 years, with those who last experienced the transformation dying, we'd be /finished/." He slices his hand, speaking with more passion, trembling some, "Open us wide to the world if you want, but…do not underestimate the jealous hate that hides there. I would guard us from that fate."

Lelantos recedes back into very thoughtful silence indeed. He's been given something to chew on and as is his wont, the conversation points from him will be terse to the point of rude indeed. The water gives an escape from the need to talk, as if he much wants to speak in the first place. The glass goes to his mouth. Speculation doesn't quite show the shock of the golden woman.

"It is not a question of want, Maximus." Cynas shakes her head slowly, "It is an inevitibility. The refuge was on an island until the humans took to he sea; now it is within the mountains, remote, but the humans have took to the sky. Worse, to space: satellites have begun spinning through the sky. Where, now, shall we relocate the city where the humans will not find us? Since there is nowhere left, it is left to us to control the manner in which we are exposed to the world." She blinks slowly, "When the crystals run out, that does not name the end of our people. We would lose the advantages that our genetic heritage provides us, yes, but most are not exposed to the mists as you well know: we would endure." She gestures, "You said you can create terrigen. Explain."

Iphis shakes her head slowly, glancing at Cynas, "Without terrigenesis, we would be so weakened that the humans could overpower us. Already they make weapons that we have no hope of countering, short of Blackagar's voice. Maximus has a point: they could steal or try to destroy it just to weaken us."

Maximus lifts his hand, finger pointed to the sky, "I can do it. I have been working on unlocking the secret ever since you voted to oust me from the throne. As if I would ever /stop/ defending my people. And thrust out there? I have discovered plenty of dangers. I need support, I need supplies, and I need to live."

There is a long moment as Cynas glances to the other two councilors, "We will have to take your request under advisement and discuss it with the full Council. At the very least, those who attempted to kill you *will* be caught and punished, I think we can all agree upon that. The other…dissidants…will be looked into, one way or another. We must have stability and peace in Attilan. The Guards assigned to you can be increased to ensure your safety. As for supplies and support, write up a report on what it is you need. If you can truly produce more terrigen,…" She lets that lapse.

Iphis remarks, "It would change everything."

Maximus flashes a quick burst of a smile. "I appreciate the ear of the council this evening." He offers, trying to end the meeting on his own terms, instead of theirs.

"We have much to discuss. Any further questions will come in due course." Lelantos lowers his glass, that addition to him an extension of his pale fingers. He doesn't have much to contribute beyond that, though the survey of his unfathomably dark eyes sweeps back to Iphis again.

Cynas inclines her head to Maximus, while Iphis adds, "A son of Agon will always have our ear should he need it. Be at peace."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License