House of Cards RP

He hadn't attended Julien's challenge to Ten a few weeks back, though it had seemed at the time that he'd been the only one who hadn't. Jordan had been somewhat...preoccupied at the time with the sudden disappearance of the Nine of Spades who technically served as his supervisor in the legal department.

He hadn't thought that it was like Emily Smythe-Jones to do something like that, but she'd vanished as if she'd never been there. Maybe she knew something the rest of them didn't, Jordan thought as he twirled his pen before setting it down on his desk. In any case, with her gone, the small legal staff was looking to him, even if he had the least legal training of all of them. He was, after all, the Nine. And more than that, at least with one of the paralegals who'd grown up in the Spades - he was the Novak and the Bernard. Surely he'd have a handle on things.

He did, mostly, though there had been more late nights than he liked to think about. It was possible, though, that his grandmother had been correct at dinner the week before when she'd stated that Jordan needed to take charge. It was true enough that he hadn't had time to fall into a mood recently, nor did he feel the inclination to do what he did too often recently - barricade himself off with his dark mood until he felt ready to pretend some interest in the rest of the world.

Something that was odd enough to give him pause when he finally realized it. Something that made him wonder, Jordan thought as he stepped out of the legal department and glanced towards the King of Spades office, if his grandmother was also right about what else he should be doing.

He turned on his heel, walking in the opposite direction from the royal suites. That, he reflected, would require him to be a Ten first. Probably it was worth more of his time to think about that first.

Katya had likely not been thrilled when Julien had presented his request for Challenge to Ten, at least not in his requested method. But it had been a year since he had been made Nine and there was little reason for her to deny him. At least with Julien, unlike certain other High Cards, he did not have a reputation for killing during a Challenge despite whatever his subsequent job duties may or may not have entailed.

And so it was that Julien approached one Jameson Monroe on a bright Sunday morning upon finding the man relaxing with a few of his cronies on a Spade Castle veranda. It was entirely possible, Julien reflected, that their coffee mugs contained a little more Irish than coffee.

The Nine had planned this Challenge with more care than most might give him credit for. He arrives looking just slightly less than dressed perfectly. It's actually impressive he made it this far without Chives catching him. And so the top button of his collar is undone, there is a loose thread on his sleeve, and his shoes are just slightly scuffed. Nothing that would call too much attention to itself, but just enough for the subconscious to take in a man not at his best. Just enough to solidify the image in Jameson's mind that he wished to see of the former Ace. A man beaten down by his fall in life, a man who had not had the drive to Challenge back up immediately upon gaining his release from prison. A man who had been relegated to training and working out of a small, back corner office. Certainly not the bogeyman he'd once been made out to be, everyone knew that first Athena's first disappearance and then his later being beaten by then-King David had taken most of his fire. The imprisonment was just the last straw.

Or at least that's what Jameson wanted to believe. It was, to him, the fate of all Outsiders, to eventually learn their place within the Deck. He expected Ethan would learn the same lesson soon enough.

Julien, however, knew that Jameson was impulsive and arrogant, particularly when it came to impressing those around him. It was, really, quite amazing that the man had both attained the rank of Ten and held onto it for as long as he had. The Nine had watched quite intently as Jameson had defended his rank only a few months ago. And made notes.

So now, Julien approaches the little knot of men with something almost like hesitation in his step, he quite carefully does not meet Jameson's gaze with his own. His entire attitude suggests a weaker man addressing his better.

It's something of a surprise, then, when Julien states to Jameson's left shoulder that he's Challenging the Ten for his rank, unarmed combat, last man standing. Jameson laughs disdainfully and stares Julien down, thinking it just another sign of Julien's newfound stature in life that he didn't Challenge with blades. If he'd been more clever, he might have given second thought to the entire situation but no one had ever claimed the man was particularly clever. "I accept," he says, after glancing briefly to the other men around him, "this afternoon. Four o'clock. Practice room B."

Julien's lips curve up just slightly as he finally meets Jameson's gaze, a predator who's just snared his next victim. "As you will, your lordship."

Only then does Jameson start thinking he had perhaps made a mistake.

( Four o'clock sharp and the two challengers meet in the appointed space. )

It was the night before Valentine’s Day.

Some years ago (or has it been decades, already?), during the Spades’ reformative years, they built a bigger ballroom closer to the heart of the castle to accommodate a bigger castle-dwelling population. This old room had since fallen into disuse, and it had become a bit of a storage space for miscellaneous paintings, ornaments, old bits of furniture and other knick-knacks that no longer had a place on the castle’s walls.

But beyond the physical objects that were cowering under large white sheets, this old ballroom also held a lot of memories. This old ballroom still had faint marks on the polished floors and invisible lines on the walls beneath the wallpaper, where they had once feasted and celebrated and dreamed and challenged and died. This old ballroom still had the old grand piano in the corner. And tonight, this old ballroom had a dark silhouette sitting at the grand piano, playing a song in the complete darkness.

There was little natural light from the outside filtering in through the curtains, all the lights were switched off and the space between the doorframe and the door standing ajar let light into an unoccupied corner of the room. But the fingers never missed a key.

Once upon a time, years and years ago, a now-older Spade composed this song for a now-dead Queen. Once upon a time, in this very room, people laughed and cried and danced to this song.

At midnight, when the magic turns the fantasy back into some mice and a pumpkin, the ballroom-cum-storage room would revert to its dusty silent state, and the silhouette bent over the piano would let go of the nostalgia that dragged him here and spend Valentine's Day with the living. But until then, like blood seeping out from an open wound, the music would continue to trickle out of the dark room and into the hallway.

Julien had been remarkably even-keeled for quite some time, particularly for him. So it became a bit of a surprise to his students when he'd begun snapping about a week ago, pushing them harder than they were perhaps ready for. It hadn't escalated to anything particularly dangerous, but it was still perhaps noteworthy.

For his part, Julien was just as irritated about the fact that he'd let something so stupid get to him as he was about the little spat he'd had with the youngest Ace the previous week. She'd never outright refused to see him before, though, and the rejection stung.

It shouldn't affect him so much, but it had.

So he's dismissed the two students he'd had for this afternoon and sat himself in the closet they call his office down by the training rooms. He can, at least, get some work done. But there's no focusing on that, either, so what he's really doing is throwing knives at a target on the wall instead.

The door is, at least, open.

It is unforgivably unfair that some Royals have all fun while Spade Royals are allotted only their five minutes per day. Katya had meant decree as joke, not as mandate by every Spade Face since she had made quip. Sometimes, she thinks, her Suit took itself far too seriously.

So she will be reminding them to have fun. Or perhaps she just desires dog. Either way, the Spade Queen makes baby steps, sitting in well traveled area, sipping tea and flipping through photographs of large, furry canines.

"Aristocratic, teddy bear or dust mop? Help me. I cannot decide."

Victor's hand brushed the dirt from his arm with out a hint of annoyance as Pasha looked from the Head of Security to the mud covered four of Spades. It wasn't likely true, but then he wasn't in the business of letting others know when he was annoyed- at least not any more. He'd become much more diplomatic in his...well, everything. For one, he thought, he actually allowed people to knock on his office door and didn't attempt to hide the room in the least traveled corner of the castle.

Maybe it was something he needed to reconsider, however.

"Pasha, please escort Mr. Kim down to the showers and see he has a new uniform." He said, his tone dry.

"But sir," Kim started, "the o-" Kim snapped his mouth shut as Victor gave him a sharp look. Victor watched them leave before reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose before sighing. When did taking care of security make him a Castle staff babysitter?

"Was there something you needed?" He asked, realizing someone was standing there, but not yet having looked up to see who.

The student Julien had been going to train had ended up needing to cancel for the afternoon. Which left him with a bit of time on his hands and seeing as he was down by the training rooms anyway, it wasn't long into his own practice when a younger Card tentatively asked him for some advice on using parts of the body other than hands in a fight. Which then turned into something of an impromptu training session.

The Five, Julien finds, is not so experienced as his typical student, but at least they were willing to learn and didn't try to pretend they knew more than they did. That, at least, was something he could work with. So he didn't let them get away with anything, but nor did he push so hard they'd regret having asked him for help.

Everything was in order, no pressing matters cluttered his desk, his laptop was snugly packed, his house was locked down, Kee'lah had been left with Amy (despite the latter's whining), his luggage sat patiently by the door, and those who might have need to do so had his cell number and at least two means of getting in touch. For once, Ethan aimed to be out of the door and on the way early. He had a particular appointment to keep elsewhere this weekend, and he meant to make good on it.

He was on the way out of the office when the phone on his desk rang. Gritting his teeth, Ethan started to ignore it, but professional ethics won out and he petulantly dropped his duffel and turned back to his desk, leaving the door open as he answered the phone. He hung up a few minutes later, disgruntled at the slight "change in plans". Invective muttered in a bastard mix of Italian, German and even a bit of Greek wafted through the open door.

People ought to be sleeping in on the day after Christmas. It's practically part of the tradition.

All right, so there are some people who'd be up early no matter the day. Fine. Annie's getting used to living with one such person, after all. She's got the hang of this. She doesn't have to get up early this time of year, not with the snakes hibernating right now, so there's nothing that ought to keep her awake.

And yet.

So out Annie goes, wandering aimlessly and saying hi to people she bumps into. Maybe thanking them for gifts, maybe getting ragged on for gifts not up to their standard.

Christmas is and always has been, for Julien, basically just another day. Sure there's more holly, mistletoe, and spiked eggnog than you can shake a stick at and sure people are practically throwing gifts at each other...but somebody still has to make sure the work still gets done. He also doesn't see much point in a particular day set aside for the giving of gifts. Though contrary to popular belief, he has and does give gifts...they're just typically far more practical and not spread widely.

So call him a grinch, if you will, at least he isn't stealing Christmas. He's just sitting in his customary spot in the Spade kitchens having tea breakfast and reading over the Daily Trump.

He's ready for this. Of course he's ready for this.

He wouldn't be here if he weren't ready. Holló wouldn't have sent him through without being prepared. This isn't, after all, the sort of place a person gets sent without it being purposeful. Even the people who wander here 'by chance' are the people who need to be here, he's been told.

So it's the right time for Aleksei Volkov to be stepping out into the cold sunlight barely warming the walls of the Castle Spades, newly minted and processed and told he'll have to start working his way up from Two now.

The few things he'd brought with him have been settled into the cramped quarters he'll be sharing with a few other recent arrivals. What's stuck from his grandmother means he'll be starting off under the apparently quite severe Spade kitchen staff.

Hopefully it isn't the end of the world that he needs to pause when he's sent out to Town to pick up a few extra bottles of truffle oil and vanilla extract. Hopefully being 'ready for this' doesn't mean he can't take a moment--take a deep breath--as he lets settle into his bones the fact that he's here.


{ooc; He can be bumped into at the castle or being lost in Town. Also tag plz?}

She comes in like a lamb on gentle feet; after all in the hour that she returns in, only the most diligent would be up and the most deviant would be falling asleep. She returns with suitcases that thump on cobblestones and a baby carriage with a trotting young white and black dog following her mistress happily.

Save the observant whose eyes are always wary, Meghana Sankaran is quite aware she will not slip into the Deck undetected, but she has a few hours to settle the sleeping boy and loyal dog. She does not go in the direction of Spades castle, rather to the Club neighborhood and knocks on the door of a brother she hasn't spoken to civilly to in years.

Kanja is one of the diligent, but the loud conversation would almost make one think he was the later. The exchange of information is remarkably brief despite the length of the conversion. Most of it is planning. She learns the faces have exchanged and she makes her decisions.

When it's brighter, when more people are awake, she leaves her brother's home. Seth and Domino remain with her brother who is skeptical that she'll return. Meghana assures him that if she doesn't return, it's not by her decision.

She's not as hard nor as sharp as she had been when she left a year and two months ago. Meghana is still fit and her metabolism a blessing - but the elegant clothes she always loved have been shed, jeans and form fitting t-shirts hidden under a black wool coat. Boots instead of clacking heels. Her pace is determined as she walks through the Deck, not hurried, not fearful.

She is observant as best as she can be; the Deck she left is gone and she knows it. The air tastes different and the visions she sees are not what she remembers.

Of course, one thing remains the same. She wears a belt around her slim waist; a disguise for her urumi. She hasn't been gone that long.

[OOC: So Meghana is back – catch her as she makes her way to finding a Spade Face she can trust/tolerate/knows to do some confessing and explaining. Or you can be someone who saw her return earlier with bb Nephew and Grown-Dog and speaks to her as she makes her way through the Deck.  Meghana tag, pls?]

He'd be lying if he hadn't seen this coming, Elisha thought after he spoke to Lucy in the office she'd soon be vacating. As the tensions had been growing in the Deck, the Queen had retreated more into her domain of paperwork, leaving many of the meaty problems on his desk, and on Elani's. He'd been taking the lion's share, because he was still all too aware that Elani was only twenty-two, and a more innocent twenty-two than some he knew.

With Lance back, as well, he'd been trying to take as much off her desk as she and the Tens would allow. For the last few days, they'd let him, thinking it would be a good distraction.

This, though, was a distraction he hadn't wanted, even if he'd suspected it would be coming soon. Lucy was returning to her home and the farm her family ran near the outposts, and he would need to find himself another Queen. Soon enough, he thought, the entire Deck would know, and with the current situation, he was sure he'd be facing pressure to choose a Deckborn from one faction and an Outside-born Card from the other.

Maybe that was why he didn't walk back down the hall to his office, where he could be easily found by advisors and curiosity-seekers. Instead, he shrugged into his leather jacket and stepped outside to go to...where, he wondered. Until a few days before the answer would have been over to Hearts, but he wouldn't be welcome there any longer. Even his calls were blocked by the polite assistant Hadyn had manning his office.

He paused only a moment before his feet turned in the direction of Spades instead. It looked like it was time for him to go back to the old ways, he thought, and the old ways had always involved harassing Victor and Katya in their offices.

He flipped a cigarette between his fingers but didn't light it despite the temptation. He was already going to have enough of a headache, after all. No need to make it worse.

[[OOC: Elisha will need to cut through Town to get to Spade Castle, so...pretty much run into him anywhere between Clubs and Spades.]]

( A Challenge, and a Win )

[Feel free to be at the meeting to announce the winner of the Challenge, visiting Cam as he settles into the role, whatever. He doesn't bite, honest.]

Retrieving Romaldo Vega was not as difficult as it might have been if the man were in top form. But then, his duel with Ethan had left him a bit incapacitated in that respect. And perhaps because Julien and Ethan's antipathy for one another was rather well known, it wasn't so difficult for Mr. Vega to believe it possible that Julien was escorting him back to the Deck solely to give the Ace a metaphorical black eye. Maybe the man wanted to believe that certainly it was he who had been made the victim in all this.

Which made his surprise and anger at being quietly remanded into Victor's custody all the more entertaining. It would be even better when the Spade's return was made public when Katya brought him forth for trial, of course. But for now Julien will content himself with leaving two very unattractive pieces of porcelain on Katya's desk.

[ooc: Vega was brought in covertly, it should be only Julien, Victor, and Katya who currently know he's back. Julien may be found walking through the halls of Spade Castle with this and this. Or you can catch him leaving Katya's office after dropping them off.]

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.

A sporting chance. It was more than what was deserved, so much more. Yet he'd acquiesced to the recommendation, figuring the message delivered would suffice. No announcements were made, no official notices given, save to the principals, but Ethan knew the gossip mill would take care of that.

He'd delivered his gauntlet to Romaldo Vega earlier in the week; it was elegant in its simplicity: duel to the death or permanent exile. Truthfully, Ethan had prayed the old Spade would choose the latter. Not that he didn't want to kill the bastard, but because he did. Unfortunately, Ser Vega's ego and his firm belief that those beneath him should be "unseen and unheard" demanded he meet the Ace's challenge. In the field, with sword and dagger.

( on the training fields )

It's quite possible that Julien hasn't yet learned of Lancelot's appearance in the Deck because no one has yet drawn the short straw to tell him. Certainly there's someone out there who remembers well his reaction to the messenger who'd told him of Lancelot's demise a year and a half ago and likely still has scars to prove it. And just as certainly, if he'd heard the news already, he would not be sitting quietly in his office, scribbling down recommendations for students who ought to be given fieldwork.

[ooc: Chives drew the short straw so he gets to go first. Everybody after that gets Julien's reaction to the news and can be anywhere that seems reasonable. Yay. o/]

Zoe was doing her best not to look it, but the truth was her head was splitting. The summer had not exactly been carefree, when it came down to it, and while there were up notes - Sophie and Adrien's engagement, Annie and Chives' wedding just past - she'd also found herself in the middle of one of the Deck's bloody plays, a main character instead of an extra the way she'd usually been in the past.

It was one thing to wish someone dead in frequent moments of frustration, she thought as she rubbed at one of her temples and shut the door behind her, and it was another to hear that his brains had been spread all over a keyboard. And that had just been the beginning of things, with the embezzlement. Despite all the brains they had working on it, they'd never pinpointed the criminal....just plugged the leak.

Then there'd been all the cleanup, and with the end of the fiscal year looming, there wasn't much time to make the books as spotless as they needed to be. The limited liability corporation that was the major cover for their off-Deck financial activities had quarterly taxes coming up, and there was nothing the revenue bureaus liked more than catching you with your pants down.

Zoe shook herself and pushed back her hair. Coffee, she decided. Coffee, and there was probably pie to be found somewhere.

Julien's trainees have all scattered for the evening. If he were to be truthful, they've all come quite a ways and he calculates most of them will be ready for their own assignments elsewhere soon enough. Then, he supposes, he'll have to take on a few more or find some other way to fill his time.

Which is why he's working, somewhat mechanically, against a practice dummy. The practice is good for keeping his body fit and loose, but the routine is rote enough to let him focus more on his thoughts and less on the exercise.

He could, of course, concern himself more closely with the rumors of unrest among certain factions of the Deck. Even if it wasn't strictly his duty.

Or, and the thought brings a twitch of a smile to his lips, he could surprise everyone by taking a vacation and visiting the beach. Might be worth it just for the expressions. Would be more worth it if he could make it useful, somehow.

Soon enough, though, Julien is finished and moving away to scoop up a waiting bottle of water and drop down on a nearby bench for a few moments as he towels his face and arms off. Somewhere in there, he'll wave at whomever is nearest, "your turn."