House of Cards RP

Katya sits in office, deck of cards in hand. She is angry, so she must not burn, must not flare out in tight-leashed fury. Anger could be more debilitating than any fear. She would not allow it to use her.

Calmly, she lays foundation out in line before beginning to craft triangular walls. Low Cards here, higher Numbers there, Faces supporting but not uplifted, Suits mixed to make cohesive whole. She studies skeleton house thoughtfully, part of mind on building but most thoughts elsewhere on myriad problems of her day. Anger was but another tool in her arsenal. Woe to any who had learned that. Some would never be found. Carefully she begins to add roof.

She flips over last card, lips crooking when she sees black queen. Chuckling to herself, Katya taps final card against house and watches as it first wavers, then slowly implodes. Soon it will be time to call Kritika to hand-deliver officially sealed messages laid out like fallen soldiers on corner of her desk. But not yet.

She gathers fallen cards and begins house anew, this time taking enterprise more seriously. It is true cardboard queen had been cause of their collapse, but flesh and blood Queen of Spades desires only for her House and Deck to remain standing. She is not choosy about methods. Perhaps some might learn daggers of ice are far more pervasive and deadly than any of fire.

Or perhaps, like cardboard Cards, real ones simply needed a good thumping now and then. Thought amuses her, and she smiles first true smile in long while.

[What is Katya mad about? Who knows? Wrong-headed elitists definitely. Mule-headed friends, quite possibly. Idiotic Suits, no doubt. Herself for not acting when she believes she should have acted, most definitely. Anyway, this is just another queen in office post if any want to talk to her. You may or may not have received a summons for whatever reason (up to you). Some of those messages are to other Royals suggesting vandalism of night before is a Deck problem and would they like to meet together or individually to discuss. And, yes, she is building card houses as you speak. Because she can.

It's not any sort of secret that the McCartneys are an incredibly loving group of people. That, as families go, they have very few in the way of 'bad eggs,' or even in the way of 'people who aren't just the embodiment of goddamn sunshine.' It's something in their DNA.

Their very old Deck-blooded DNA.

But they're still a group of people. They still have variant beliefs and opinions. They tend to align the bulk of the time, but it isn't a foregone conclusion.

Which is why there are McCartneys arguing quietly in the street today. Why a Nine and a Four who can usually be heard laughing from a mile away are leaning together in hushed, agitated conversation. Because for the first time in a long time, there's a real line being cracked down a generation of McCartneys, widening as the cousins stand in front of an Outsider-owned restaurant turned crime scene.

Ernst is walking off one way and Evan is walking off another. Neither of them look anything but worse for the wear.


[ooc; Go bother Jerk Ernst McCartney on SWS or Evan here.]