Scene #9556: At Pharaoh's Table

Owner	Pose
Distortion Dets.	As it turns out, entrusting one's transport to Han Hee-joon of the Udjat, places one directly at the mercy of Lady Dias' whims. Following the foray into Tae-young Produce Company, in the comfortable backseat of the right sort of luxury limousine to be flanked on all sides by unmarked armored vehicles, out past dark-tinted windows, a phone-ring for the masked chauffeur interrupts the drive back to whatever destination Petra requested. With no vocalized response, the motorcade stops to then immediately alter course- over a radio intercom, not from the driver, and not from within the vehicle, comes the first explanation to Petra. "Plans have changed. My Lady has invited you to dine with her." Han Hee-joon, the voice over the speaker, sounds gravelly, from something beyond radio-static buzz. . . . It's a grotesquely empty banquet hall within which Petra is first left to her own devices, the Udjat goons disappearing off through the adjoining doorways, only after they've shown her to a seat right adjacent to the head of a thin table that could seat a hundred more souls. There's no food atop the myriad gilded (and no-doubt unique in all the City) plates and platters, save for an ice-bucket for an open champagne bottle just out of arms reach across from where she's sitting, and thus clearly not meant for her, but the Lady. The ceiling rests high above, arched like a cathedral, and lined with thin windows that filter in golden light, like a picturesque evening- odd, considering that on the drive in, the sun set and cast the City into darkness. Mosaics decorate the floor, and centerpiece candelabras flicker by the dozens and dozens, uniform and unmelted. Whatever servant force that took to ensure, prior to Petra's arrival, is obviously nowhere she'd have to lay eyes. Nearly abducted, and then left to wait on her lonesome, it's all to beckon in the calculated door-creak at the end of the banquet hall, and the metal-soled footsteps of Lady Dias herself, along with a small band of her zealots flanking her, as she finally receives her guest. "Surprise!" At the words, with a bright, eyes-nearly-closed smile, Dias throws her arms out to her side, eagle-capped cane in hand until she limply lets it fall from her clutch into the hands of the Udjat closest besides her, reacting quickly, and immediately breaking off to return it elsewhere. "Oh, Petra, just look at you! I got to thinking, after our little talk, that nothing could be more of a shame than sending you back on your way without giving you a proper meal!" Dias waits with her arms out, as if expecting an embrace, until there's any indication of motion from Petra, to which they fall down to her side, and a concerned look crosses her face. "I'm sure, if there's anyone else who'd wanted this time of yours, they'll be understanding; I'll send a gift of some sort." Without even a glance, she steps towards her chair, for it to be pulled out, and she sits down with an exaggerated sigh. With no further cue, another Udjat picks up the champagne, and fills both of their glasses. "I've a gift for you, too, of course, but that's for after we break bread! So, to a job well done," Dias picks the flute up, and extends it out to Petra, as cheers to be met. "And what a job- you met my lost little Moses, Petra! I'm jealous," Pointing her glass loosely Petra's way with each word, as punctuation, "Of, you! Tell me your thoughts on it all, and don't spare the details, I'm sure no-one else is listening now~!"
Petra Soroka	PHONE: Dias says, "Next time we talk, let's have it be face to face, hm?" Click. Petra is given an hour to cool down from the giddy high of the operation at Tae-Young. Her role, the outfit, Moses's embarrassing hatred of her and the dynamic that lets Petra smugly shrug it off, a fascinating discovery and then the phone call heavy with praise for a job well done, gradually seep out of her like cotton stuffing in her skull while the limousine carries her away. The time after the curtain closes is when Petra sorts through her feelings and thoughts, putting them back into the order they're meant to be, colored faintly by the light she channeled through them for the performance. So it's in this vulnerable state, with her shields down, that Han Hee-joon's voice finds her, jolting her out of her reverie. She sits up straight with her eyes wide, adjusting the golden button on her sleeve unconsciously. There's no one to hear in the car, and no one who'd care whether she agrees or disagrees to the invitation, but Petra mumbles in response anyways. "Well, I'd be... happy to...." . . . Having to mentally reverse the momentum of post-mission decompression is probably bad for Petra in some hard-to-describe ways. By the time she's escorted into the banquet hall, it's like she never relaxed at all, braced for the talk with Dias with a smile. She's tired, of course, and there's no handwipe-based touchups she could do to her wounds in the back of a limo that would erase the signs of the fight with Ezra, but the ride gave her hours to re-do her makeup, and it just seemed rude not to. The massively oversizes dining hall fully achieves its purpose on Petra. If she wasn't led to a specific seat by the Udjat, she would have lingered at the far end of the table, able to take in at distance the size and almost religious framing of the decor, but instead, those things just rest in her mind unconsciously, while she slowly takes her seat. It comes to her mind that this is the first time she's ever come to Dias's domain, rather than being contacted or directed by her reaching out directly or through an intermediary. The mansion was in view from the Udjat barracks, but she wasn't invited. "I got to thinking, after our little talk, that nothing could be more of a shame than sending you back on your way without giving you a proper meal!" Petra is fussing at the bandage that she applied to her own wrist in the back of the car when Dias appears. She's sitting on the edge of her chair, head angled down, picking at and then pressing down the edge of it while lapsing into thought about how almost-willing she was to let Ezra die there. Dias's 'surprise!' makes her hop up out of the chair, not wanting to be seated while Dias is standing, and ends up next to the back of her chair with her hand awkwardly on the armrest. Still, wow, there's really no drug like someone being happy to see Petra. "If there was anyone else who wanted my time, then I've already forgotten about them. Um, thanks for the meal." Petra sits down again shortly after, a tiny bit red-faced already. She takes a slow, steadying breath, taking in the candlesmoke and champagne, in order to properly get her bearings again. Surely a flute of champagne won't fuck her up.
Petra Soroka	"And what a job- you met my lost little Moses, Petra!" After clinking the glass, Petra takes a sip, on an empty stomach. "I sure did. And I kept a close eye on her, though she was so diligent about everything that it barely mattered. Was she always that way?" As a euphemism for 'suspicious and neurotic', "Talking herself through everything she sees?" Dias obviously very much likes Moses, and Petra, who spent most of today bullying Moses, is absolutely shameless enough to talk her up in order to get secondhand praise and good moodlets. A little bit of her own genuine enthusiasm slips through, on the actual subject of the mission. "Well, I'm a lot more interested in that monolith than the Tae-Young Produce Company, I've gotta say. I can think of a lot of things I want to know about the monolith, but Tae-Young seems like it won't be all that long for the world."
Distortion Dets.	Before seating herself, Dias tilts her head at Petra, and lets out a clipped 'Tch' sound, red eyes fixed on the bandage on her hand. "Oh, you didn't say you'd gotten hurt! That won't do, not at all. Petra, let's get you some proper treatment right this instant." It's a statement one might expect to be paired with dragging her off to a medicine cabinet, or something similar- Dias just sticks a hand out face-up, for an Udjat guard to pull, from a uniform pouch, an obviously-K-corp healing ampule. Like she had fetched it herself, she hands it right over to Petra, pressing it into her hand with both of hers, and a little pat. 'If there was anyone else who wanted my time, then I've already forgotten about them.' "Well, that saves you all the trouble!" Dias leans back in her chair, bothering just enough to shift her weight to a leaned-on elbow, all the better to face Petra. "Best to save your thanks for when the meal is actually in front of you, hm? It's going to be quite the treat." 'Was she always that way?' Staring at Petra through her own champagne flute, swirling it ever so slightly, Dias smiles at that question- "My dear, brave Moses? Oh, no, not at all! She's been a lot of ways, over a lot of years, but that's a new trait of hers, you know! Why, she used to be shy enough to hide from company behind me, if you can believe it- but with a loyal heart, those useful eyes, and a good ear for listening, she grew into something special indeed. Though... lately, it's as if all of that's been turned on its head; like those eyes of her are clouded up. Hm. That she can 'see' the Distortion, of course she's special, but it tugs at the heart, whatever it is that's dragging her so down." Dias sighs, and lowers the flute to sip at it. Unlike with the milkshake in that diner, there's no immediate distaste. She's curated this, obviously, stocking her wine cellar with what she likes, but there's no fussing about the label, the vineyard that made it, the year- it's just champagne that's good enough to drink- of course, not without carefully leaving a smudge of her thin lipstick on the rim of the glass. 'Well, I'm a lot more interested in that monolith than the Tae-Young Produce Company,' This seems to be quite funny to her- she covers up a little laugh with a hand. "Isn't it just? I certainly agree, it beats some stuffy old business- and, it begs question after question," Leaning just a bit further in, and, audible by faint metal scuffing, kicking her legs back in forth in interest, "How does it do that, changing up all those poor little employees, and Ezra, just like that? And why smoke, of all things? You knowwwww, I'm sure in that head of yours, you've got bright guesses to all of it! Don't hold back, okay?" With that, and a little gleam in Dias' half-shut eyes, she leans back and crosses a leg over her knee, rolling her neck out against the plush back of the table-head chair- it's far more of a throne, really, with her sitting on it. Doors click open, and a new troupe of Udjat march in as the old troupe marches out, carrying gilded cloches- the meal for tonight, to present in front of the Lady and her guest. Whispered, then, with a hand raised to hide it, Dias winks, and says, "It couldn't just be any old meal, to mark this special occasion, no? I made sure tonight's food would be special, just for you." It isn't believable for a moment that Dias has ever eaten the same meal more than once, no matter how old she may be. Regardless, the fruits of this are clear when the cloches are opened up simultaneously in front of the women- the dish is roasted stuffed tomatoes, planted in a dark sauce, and filled with odd-textured meat and crisped rice, just molecular enough to have been a fancy ordeal to make, and viscerally referential all the while. Dias doesn't even look at it.
Petra Soroka	"It's nothing major, it's--" It registers as a maybe-bad idea to specify anything about how she received the injury from Ezra's Distortion, so she doesn't. She obediently takes the ampoule and snaps off the tip with a well-practiced pinch, dripping the serum onto the bandage. "It's nothing but an occupational hazard. I'm tough." The bandage and the spots of blood on it are eaten away by the inner sheathe of Silver that creeps out from the end of her jacket's cuff. When it retreats back into her shirt, there's just clean, regenerated skin in its place, not even having to be distracted by so much as tasking one of the Udjat to throw it away. "My dear, brave Moses? Oh, no, not at all!" You know what? Petra actually likes Moses much better this way. The detective that was once a threat to keep an eye on is now someone who fumes at Petra's very existence, and her former keeper talks dotingly about her like she's a wayward pet, so Petra can't muster up any hostility or even irritation for the topic. Moses's reaction to overhearing Dias's voice on the phone might've been a little concerning, but the more she hears about their history together, the more pathetic it feels in retrospect. "Wow, shy enough to hide behind you... that's cute, isn't it?" Petra is momentarily stunlocked by imagining Moses, a clearly older woman, maybe being a child around Dias, and wondering again how old she is. "Well, she's definitely not shy anymore. She was pretty forwards with all those questions during her interrogation, and she brought a ton of friends with her for support. Maybe that's a good sign, right?" Petra shrugs, taking another sip of her champagne. "She doesn't seem very fond of me, though." "You knowwwww, I'm sure in that head of yours, you've got bright guesses to all of it! Don't hold back, okay?" She's sooooo bright! She's so smart! This is even a topic that she's confident in being smart about, so she has to work extra hard to prove it, too! Petra scoots forwards in her chair and perks upright, champagne glass resting on the table as both of her hands lean against the edge of it. "Um! Well, I'd love to get a more in-depth look at it once Han Hee-joon's got it secured. But I've had thoughts already, wow. I figure Tennant told you I was specifically the Captain of the Extraction team?" "I have a hard time connecting it with Tae-Young's agricultural capacities; the Distortion isn't at all like what they were doing in their greenhouses. That makes me believe that the monolith was either stolen, or re-derived from stolen tech, or gifted to them, and in particular, the link to Lobotomy Corporation is undeniable, I think. This wouldn't have been something Tennant was familiar with, but the pillars in Extraction were directly related to the function of the Department, as 'cocoons' that harbored the Abnormalities before they were placed into containment." She leans back in the chair, drumming her fingers on the table, too engrossed in this topic to even think about the food being brought over. "District 14 isn't that far from District 12, but I have a hard time believing that they could've gotten their hands on any proprietary Extraction tech. So my guess is that my earlier suspicion was correct, and that the White Nights and Dark Days has led to people converging on the fallen branches and rediscovering the 'source' of the Abnormalities, the Collective Unconscious, and using whatever methods they can cobble together to access it. That's supported, I think, by the fact that the monolith was just made of a single material, and was directed blindly and externally, rather than the more refined 'Well' we had. Vaporized Cogito, maybe, if I had to put a direct hypothesis down."
Distortion Dets.	'It's nothing but an occupational hazard. I'm tough.' "Of course, you've shown that in your work, but, I simply won't have a helpful and trustworthy dear shoulder a burden that simply doesn't need shouldering." However, the second the ampule is broken open, Dias focuses instead on simply getting seated; the task is finished, that's all that's needed. Going from doting to cold disinterest is a trend, and the impressive display with the silver goes missed for watching champagne foam. 'Wow, shy enough to hide behind you... that's cute, isn't it?' Dias smiles, eyes-closed and warm, "Mm-hmm~! Like a lost little lamb, with no idea yet what to make of herself. Why, sometimes, I wonder if I miss those days, but, what's the use in getting caught up in that past? I'd rather spend my time thinking about everything the future holds, hm?" Holding her champagne flute, Dias's eyes open a dark-red crack, staring through the spot Petra sits. "Lots of friends? I'm proud to hear that, these past years, it's seemed that my poor Moses has been so scared of everyone, and everything! Why, just try and guess how long it's been since she gave me a visit, or wrote me a letter?" With a long, exaggerated sigh, Dias slumps- no, it's a more practiced and graceful movement than that, a lean, or a slow lunge, down to supporting her head off of an elbow, staring right at Petra, with a soft smile and a long pause in speech. "Don't tell me her disapproval bothers you at all, now. I doubt she can help it, try as she'd like, you're talented, loyal, and have so many eyes on you, if anything, I wonder if dear Moses is a small bit jealous? No, no, don't worry at all, it's charming of her in its own way, if you look at it from here." With her flute emptied, Dias only has to set it down for a nameless and faceless Udjat to swoop in and refill it, as she runs a twirling finger through a strand of her own hair. The filled glass sits, forgotten, while dinner is served. 'Um! Well, I'd love to get a more in-depth look at it once Han Hee-joon's got it secured.' "You will, you will, I'm sure no-one else could be more of a valuable set of eyes on it, hm? I do love their gold, bright no matter the lighting." Fork and knife held gently in hand, she starts to press the blade through the stuffed tomato, mid-sentence, with a meaty ripping noise. Again, once she's taken a bite, there's no comment on how good it is, no bragging about the ingredients, or the technique- even if it's some statement of a dish, that's underneath some threshold of importance. "You can call it a hunch, but, I'm certain myself, that that big bad monolith couldn't have been properly thought up by that little company, hm? There's a lot of talk going around, at a-ny-thing and ev-ery-thing coming out of what's left of that Lobotomy Corporation, and more than talk, there's money. That's not news to you, now, but you can hardly expect those types of businessmen to do anything but try and clash bits and pieces together to see if it's anything, hm? Would you say this is 'anything'?" Idly, "'Extraction Captain Petra', hm? Yes, Tennant had so much to say about you, how could they not? You've got yourself a bit of a fan, Petra, one of many I'm sure." Dias smiles, and in a two-pronged attack of distraction, says, "'Captain' has such a nice sound to it, doesn't it just? Oh, Petra, don't forget to eat, it'll get cold!"
Distortion Dets.	'Vaporized Cogito, maybe, if I had to put a direct hypothesis down.' Dias raises an eyebrow, as if surprised. "Well, now. You're the expert I have here to ask, Captain Petra, what do you think of that just being out there, in the City, being waved around by all the other Tae-young Produce Companies? There's certainly a mess of remnants, after that Wing's fall, I've half a mind to entrust it to you, perhaps, to try and clean some of it up? Oh, and no, don't you worry, that's not the gift I promised, not yet- let's save that for dessert~!"
Petra Soroka	Whether she means to or not, Petra has an internal list tracking what gets positive reactions out of Dias and what doesn't. Of course, she hasn't forgotten that Dias is, undoubtedly, very dangerous and someone she needs to be constantly on guard around, but that's all the more reason to be mindful of what puts her in a good mood! Being a little flippant about how durable she is, nothing; talking about Moses, something. "From the way you said that, I'm gonna guess that she doesn't call on your birthday." There's now a glaring prompt in Petra's head to ask why they don't talk anymore, and why Moses seemed so terrified-- or jealous?-- by the idea of Petra doing it, but even though she really wants to know, she resists. At best, it's a not-so-good memory, or she doesn't want to answer at all. And Moses said she didn't know who she was dealing with, so really, Moses would be obligated to tell her if she asked. Petra leans forwards, hands tucked down between her thighs, attentively waiting while Dias falls languidly quiet. Then, "No, you're right. It's like you said, she's obviously having a hard time herself right now. I would've guessed that it's from seeing the Distortion and all the trouble L-Corp's fall caused, but... well, that's when I met her, so of course I'd think that way." She pulls one arm up above the table again, resting her elbow on the edge and curling her wrist under her chin. The smug position belies her deflection of Dias suggesting that Moses might be jealous. "I don't know about that. I mean, I'm studying to be an investigative journalist, actually, so there's definitely a lot I could learn from her-- and she's interested in the Distortion, and I'm one of the best sources in the City on that. Maybe she'd have a better opinion of me if we just sat down and talked." As an aside, she adds, "I'd be happy to help you two get back in touch next time I see her, if you want." She'd be such a good mysterious figure slipping unnoticed notes in people's pockets on the street. "I do love their gold, bright no matter the lighting." The thought suddenly strikes Petra unbidden that Ayin was only a little older than she is now when he met Dias. Her open mouth, just about to respond, freezes in place as the words she meant to say leave her, and the sound that fills the air in their place is the visceral squelch of the tomato. This is part of the curse that she was left with, inherited through Angela, that Ayin's shadow will follow her wherever she goes in the City. She swallows and redoubles her resolve, forging ahead. "Well, if I'm pretty certain, and you're definitely certain, then that's one hundred and fifty percent certainty." Being both praised and agreed with makes it easier! By the time her next question comes around, Petra's back to being enthusiastic for the topic. "Absolutely. Studying that monolith would be huge for understanding the Distortion. I'd like to know how much is the Voice's doing and how much is out of her control, and also..." Argalia and Dias might both be absurdly driven characters, but Petra sees more benefit in alerting them to the other's existence than not. If they ever start to disagree, then her work is going to be cut out for her, but until then it only makes her own mission easier. "A contact of mine and I were discussing theories about how the, uh, catalytic threshold for Distortion could be changed and controlled. I have my own thoughts, but combined with the monolith... I think there's a lot to learn. And Tae-Young might be kind of small fry in the grand scheme of things, but I want to get an idea on how much digging the Wings have done in the fallen branches by now."
Petra Soroka	When reminded to eat, Petra softly 'oh's and jolts out of her rambling. Her stomach grumbles when prompted, and she quickly gets to cutting up the stuffed tomato on her own plate. Eating makes it harder to talk at length, though. "Tennant was probably the person I liked most down in Atziluth. I didn't think I'd be happy to see them ever again after how they ditched us, but... well, time and context." 'Entrust' makes Petra put down her fork and knife for a moment, lifting her face to give Dias her attention, now that they're talking about business. "I've wanted to scrape out the fallen branches for a while; the only reason I haven't is how dangerous and inaccessible they are. I've worried a bunch about how the Wings with resources might get to them before me-- not just because of the risk of the Abnormalities and the tech, but because they definitely hold more information on the state of the Tree of Light." She leans back in her chair. "So, um, get me a broom, and I can clean them up before you know it."
Distortion Dets.	'No, you're right. It's like you said, she's obviously having a hard time herself right now.' Dias sighs, somewhere between longing and frustrated, but with no clear indication on how genuine either are- "Oh, no, your guesses are certainly correct; are you told often how perceptive you are? Hm-mmmmm, but, that's hardly the end of it- oh, how she'd laugh and smile, back when she stayed at my side, hm? But how would I put it..." Another sigh, "She's decided she's scared to not stay running, I think. How heartbreaking is that?" 'I'd be happy to help you two get back in touch next time I see her, if you want.' Dias stares right at Petra, as if studying her eyes through that statement- in the rise and fall of breaths, it's haunting that the banquet hall has no background music, or ambient sound, at all. Then, a saccharine smile, and a tilt of the head, "My, Petra. Would you really?" Shifting, and raising her hand to cover a pleased little laugh, "You can't help but be a sweetheart, can you? Hmm... but, I would like that very much, Petra- I've sent for her, since she's always welcome here, but that's not enough now, is it? Oh, but it's sure to be a tricky thing, with how skittish she is- how does talking it out with Han Hee-joon sound, sometime? I'll have him call you." No, she doesn't ask Petra's contact details, and really, none of that's even a question- she's wrapped up her statements at the end, and with a focus back on her plate, that's the end of that discussion. Bit by bit, she carves up the red-leaking roast tomato on her plate, more attention to that than the eating of it, its flavor, or the rest of the meal. 'A contact of mine and I were discussing theories about how the, uh, catalytic threshold for Distortion could be changed and controlled.' "Oh? A contact of yours? What a mysterious way to put that, now! You've gotten me curious- what are the types you talk about all this with? An interesting bunch, I'd hope!" Legs kicking back and forth beneath the table, Dias prompts further explanation- like a shark smelling distant blood. Perhaps more keyed in than Petra would like, "If they come with your recommendation, and they help you come to your conclusions, I can't see the harm in facilitating a bit of collaboration! Expert minds never thrive on their lonesome, hm?"
Distortion Dets.	'So, um, get me a broom, and I can clean them up before you know it.' This amuses Dias greatly, in her reactive gestures, a smile and a lean-in, and a gleam in the eye. Contrasting, she's staring through Petra more, focused yet paying less attention- that's the manner of answer she was looking for, as-eager and as-agreeing, so she's just operating as she should, from Dias' perspective. "That's the spirit now, isn't it? But I'd rather get you dessert, first-" Dias leans back, and raises two hands besides her own head, to clap once, twice- and stays in that posture for a long moment, as the percussive echo lingers in the enormous room, fading only as, again, Udjat walk in carrying more cloches. Dias is already away enough from the table for there to be no additional effort spent to quietly clear finished plates away and replace them, so when the gold-etched domes are pulled away with a signature metallic friction ringing, there's no disruption. In front of Dias is a gold-tinted stemmed glass bowl, full of a layered pudding of some sort, dusted with, likely, powdered cocoa or coffee, dusted with flakes of gold, and topped with, in this purely yellow-orange lighting, strawberries that are just far too red. In front of Petra, on the plate, is a thick manilla folder. "Ah-hah, oh, I knew that would be a funny way to do it. Go on, open it up?" Dias points at it, more interested in it than she is her own dessert- her spoon clinks against the side of it, idle, reminding her it exists just enough to scoop up some and extend it to Petra. It's unquestionably demeaning, combined with how fussy she's been towards Petra- she spares no care towards that, interested and impatient. Within the dossier, once opened, clipped right inside the cover, is a perfectly-fabricated set of identifying documents; the pad of paper within a mass of corroborating information, forming a history of Petra having been someone, not only from the City, but crafting that she'd been marked as a potential asset by the Head, and placed as a plant within L-corp, years and years past. Tucked in the papers is a sealed envelope, barely marked, but obviously important, given it's there. An Udjat, without asking, hands a curved knife to Petra by the blade, to open it. Dias, however, seems to already know the contents: "Congratulations, Petra!" She says, and reaches up to the nearest Udjat- she trails a finger down the side of their mask, then holds her hand palm-up, for a nondescript cylinder to be pressed into it. "You've been formally selected as an Arbiter candidate. In the spring, in oh-so-distant District 1, you'll be beginning your training." -Pop!- Dias giggles, as a cord on the cylinder- a party popper, is pulled. Gold and black confetti burst into the air and fall around, synthetic snow. How quaint.