undergrounds | Guys No

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cesare borgia

Guys No

So the march had been a mess. As Cesare sat hidden, watching from his office and paying close attention to the news, it became pretty clear that nobody knew quite what they wanted. At least it seemed that nobody could quite agree.

For Cesare, that's actually pretty helpful. When anything is vague, that means that he gets to define it. With the attack on Newham and the wolves getting increasingly audacious, something needs to be done. Tensions are escalating and he doesn't want this to end badly. He schedules a press conference for the next week. It's time to make a political play.

As he makes his way to the press room he has a carefully crafted speech already prepared:

"This month the people of London expressed their feelings of concern regarding their city. They used their voices and I have heard them. Peace and unity are vital to the strength and security of this city and for too long we have allowed London to be ruled by violence and crime.

Politics is one thing. Violence is different. There is never an excuse for bloodshed and enough is enough. From now on, all crimes, whether used for political purposes or not, will be treated as the crimes that they are. If you commit a crime, no matter the reason, you will be prosecuted. If you are violent, you will be punished. This applies to all races, all factions, everyone.

It is time to be peaceful and united. Any of those who act against that can either leave or face punishment."

[OOC note: This will in no way stop territory claims. It's mainly empty talk, supporting laws that are already in place. While Cesare is attempting to discourage violence, any actual punishments for such behaviour will not be properly enforced. Keep on doing your thing. Cesare is just firmly taking a personal stance against crime and bloodshed.]

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Do you expect them to believe you?

Joscelin sends the text message almost as soon as Cesare finishes speaking. He'll make an appearance in Cesare's office soon, but not yet.

You don't?

A little defensive? Yes. But that's what happens when someone doubts your speech's integrity and strength only five seconds after you've made it.

Not really, no. How are you planning to enforce all this? A Guardian on every street corner?

Joscelin is already in a taxi on his way over to Night Council headquarters.

Nice speech, though. An excellent way to get the masses to forget how much they dislike you.

Whatever it takes. And you're forgetting I'm one of the few leaders in this city who's been elected democratically. Not as many people hate me as you think. Still disappointed about JC?

It's no secret that Joscelin and JC get along. Cesare can gather that Joscelin would have preferred JC as president. But we can't all get what we want every time.

Disappointed isn't the word.

Have you any wine? These kinds of conversations are best lubricated with alcohol. And Joss's thumbs are tired. Best to speak face to face with the new President.

Then what is the word? And how long have you known me? Of course I do.

A Borgia without a decent store of alcohol is not a true Borgia. Who does Joscelin think Cesare is? He already sets about pouring them some glasses.

There's a light knock on Cesare's door, but Joscelin doesn't wait for permission to enter.

"You'd better have that wine," he says by way of greeting.

"Always," Cesare responds with a smile. "But you still didn't answer my question. I have a feeling that you're avoiding it." He stands up and presses a glass into Joscelin's palm.

"You haven't yet said what you think of my presidency."

"I haven't." Joscelin considers the wine in his glass, swirls it around a bit. He's stalling, obviously.

"I didn't vote for you, of course. I campaigned rather hard for Jean-Claude. It would be dishonest to say that I hadn't hoped for a different outcome, but I still think you're the second-best man for the job." He smiles, a little cheekily. "I'm not displeased that there's finally a vampire running the show. Took us bloody long enough."

Cesare can understand why Joscelin might feel sentimental towards Jean-Claude. He doesn't like it but he understands.

"Jean-Claude has his hands plenty full already. And he's been rather morose as of late." Surely Joscelin has noticed? "I am a considerably more upbeat option."

He pauses for a second, considering quite how to proceed.

"You must understand: I would not take an uprising lightly. If you have anything planned, it is too late for you to carry it out unscathed." It's a formality really. He doesn't particularly want to threaten his friend, but he wants to make it clear that he's not ok about betrayal either. It's a formality that Cesare needs to get done before they continue their conversation.

"Ever since his old lover came over from France, yes," Joscelin agrees. "And just in time for the election, too. Funny, that. Jean-Claude has been living quite openly and successfully in England for over a century and his unhinged ex just happens to make the trip across the Channel right when it looks like he might win the election." Not that Joscelin is suggesting anything, naturally. He's just making an observation.

When Cesare makes the threat, he laughs and takes a drink. "Surprisingly, I do learn my lesson. I've tried to seize power before, and it didn't exactly go my way--if you'll recall. No, Borgia, you'll get no resistance from me."

"Not just from you," he replies quickly. He appreciates Joscelin explaining that he himself has no interest in power, but there's more to it than that. Cesare does not want Joscelin supporting anyone else, no matter how inviting they might seem. "From anyone. I am petitioning for peace. I would like to retain it." He shrugs and sips his wine.

"And if Jean-Claude has such an open weakness, perhaps he should have fixed that, hmm?" Not that Cesare actually had anything to do with it though. He's just throwing jabs while he can.

"I'll not be your attack dog, if that's what you're getting at," Joscelin cautions. "I won't argue with your rule and I won't support anyone who tries anything, but I'm not going to go around preventing insurrection. That's what you have Guardians for."

After all these centuries, his views on effective governance are still extremely medieval. It's not his fault. Government by the people for the people hadn't been invented yet.

"He should have." The boy shrugs; that's beside the point. "Doesn't mean that the timing isn't extremely suspect."

"I only ask for no betrayal," Cesare replies calmly. He doesn't expect Joscelin to bite at ankles. Only not to bolster those who are against him.

"And just this once I have nothing to do with it. I had no idea Jean-Claude was so...sensitive in that area. It's been a long time since the two of us had a real chat." Nowadays the two are distant. They keep things close to their chest with each other. To be honest, frenemies would be a solid description.

"I won't betray you. Not unless you betray me first." Cards on the table. They both learned ruthlessness at their respective fathers' knees, after all.

Joscelin frowns. "He never felt the need to tell me either. Bastard."

That sounds reasonable enough to Cesare. It's a cold war of sorts but it's comfortable for him. He doesn't intend to escalate things so he doesn't expect Joscelin to either. He nods, satisfied with the answer, and takes a sip of his drink.

"I thought you two were pals? Or is he too busy being morose these days?" Cesare has never been the type of man to find emotions very helpful. To show emotions is to show weakness, a pressure point. After all isn't that what happened with Jean-Claude?

Joscelin snorts, looking down at the glass in his hand. "Very busy being morose, I should think. I think he's taking recent events rather badly." Joss will believe Cesare when he insists he had nothing to do with Jean-Claude's gatecrasher, but it doesn't mean he's not a little annoyed by the whole thing. It was an unqualified disaster.

"I never did tell you that the date you brought that night spent most of the evening vomiting into the flowerpots. Where did you dig up that girl?"

Cesare wants to correct Joscelin and tell her that she wasn't his date that evening, but he's also aware that he's continued to see her since and thus there's little reason for him to protest. He shrugs and take a swig of his drink.

"I thought she was one of Nancy's," he says honestly. Everything is a lot easier when you just presume the girl that you've been seeing is a prostitute.

"Nancy's a bawd?" Joscelin raises an eyebrow. He's not shocked by any of it--the world's oldest profession and all that--but he hadn't realized Nancy sold other bodies in addition to her own. "Huh."

He takes another sip and realizes his glass is nearly empty. He reaches for the bottle but his small arm isn't quite long enough to grasp it. Damn.

Cesare doesn't make a big deal out of the fact that Joscelin isn't quite tall enough to reach the bottle. (After all, he suspects it's a bit of a sore topic). Instead he just calmly nudges the bottle towards him so that it's within grasp.

"That's the amusing thing. She isn't. I had managed to find myself a girl who was just keen and thought my payments were simple acts of kindness." To be fair, he was being pretty kind. He had tipped really well. He laughs to himself.

Joscelin won't thank Cesare for moving the bottle but he is pleased he can finally reach it. Hr pours another glass for himself and then offers it back to his host.

"I just thought you had better taste in women than that. I'm sure she's brimming with her own kind of....unique charm, but I thought you would prefer someone who could hold an intellect conversation with, both in bed and out of bed. Having spoken to the young woman in question, I rather doubt your judgement in the matter."

"Trust me. I rarely intend to have any extensive conversation with her," he replies immediately with a dismissive smirk. Of course Joscelin doesn't understand the nuances of it. He isn't experienced with that sort of thing. He's too young. Well, old-young. Cesare thinks of Joscelin as a wise old friend, but in this field he suspects the man-boy to be particularly inexperienced.

"If I ever need a girl specifically skilled in sophistry, though, I will make sure to ask you for recommendations."

"I'm hurt. Truly." Joscelin smirks.

"So," he says, changing the subject, "what will you do now? Rule London in perpetuity as your own little fiefdom?" It's what Joss would do, if he had the chance. Being immortal and all.

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually trying to do right by the people of London," Cesare replies with a smile and an eyeroll. It's become pretty clear that not many people trust him. Even Samantha has begun to doubt him. Personally, he thinks he's been pretty damn well behaved all things considered.

"Though if I can hold on to the position, I am sure I would not turn it down..." Of course he wants to keep the role. Who wouldn't?

Joscelin doesn't even try to hide how unconvinced he is by Cesare's earnest desire to help Londoners. He smirks. "And there we have it. Cesare Borgia, President for Life. Look on his works, ye mighty, and despair."

Cesare smirks and rolls his eyes.

"You know, envy doesn't suit you. Had you not supported the wrong man, I would have given you a position." Cesare always likes to reward those who are loyal to him. It's a shame that Joscelin wasn't. "Maybe you could ask our dear Jean-Claude for something to keep you occupied?"

"What sort of position would that have been anyway? I very much doubt that the fancy folks in the Night Council would take well to having a mere child running around. God's wounds, I imagine they barely tolerate Cooper and he could at least pass for someone old enough to drink in a pub. No, Borgia, you can keep your position. I am quite content with my lot."

Sort of. Not really.

He pours himself more wine.

Cesare appreciates it when Joscelin swears traditionally. Nowadays such language seems to be out of fashion to the point that people barely understand it. Finally between the two of them, the words reacquire some of their punch.

"I am sure I could have found some position for you, even if it weren't an all too public one. You have a good mind when it's not picking the wrong side." He smirks, amused by his backhanded but well intentioned compliment.

"That's damning with faint praise," Joscelin replies, raising his wine glass in a mock toast. "Yes, I backed the losing horse but you'll not make me regret that decision, if that's your intention."

"No," Cesare replies with a resigned sigh. "If you don't already then nothing will manage it. You're an old man stuck in your ways. How is he now? Jean-Claude. Last time I heard, he was moping in his strip club writing morose love ballads." An exaggeration but only just, at least according to Cesare. At least Cesare is making changes. Or stepping outside.

Joscelin scowls into his wine glass. "That's about the long and short of it, really. He's still leading the Nest, but they'll get restless at some points if he isn't seen to be doing more than just taking care of the logistics behind the scenes. And we've got new vampires coming into the city every week. I haven't seen an influx like this since the end of the last war. Borgia." He looks up at the younger vampire, his sometimes friend.

"Promise me that you will work with him. I'll wheedle him on my end too, but we must be seen as a united front. The status quo must remain."

Edited 2017-08-31 20:39 (UTC)

"I have always intended to present a united front and work with him. You forget that he is the one who ran against me, not the other way around." In Cesare's opinion, any sense of instability in regards to the Nest is solely on Jean-Claude's part. Whether that's true or not remains to be seen.

"We have to silence those wolves somehow."

"He ran because he thought he was the better candidate," Joscelin counters. He's not as good with all this politicking as he thinks he is. His own policial orientation tends towards the medieval--power seized through violence, not popular assent. "But if you're willing to work so are we."

He wrinkles his nose. "What are they up to now? Still angling for a vote?"

The use of we catches Cesare off guard. He hadn't quite realised it was a we vs you sort of situation. He had presumed Joscelin was a little more neutral than that, even after everything. It seems he needs to reassess.

He sighs and shrugs.

"When are they not? But they're beginning to radicalise and get violent. It's an issue." One that he intends to quash as soon as possible.

"Have you considered actually giving it to them?" Joscelin says it lightly; he knows it's a ridiculous suggestion. The wolves aren't civilized enough to be trusted with any responsibility at all, of course. They wouldn't know what to do with that power if they had it.

But still...

"You could install a puppet on the Council, someone too stupid...or too beholden to you...or both to be anything but a rubber stamp. They might quiet down if you threw them a bone." He smirks at his own joke.

Edited 2017-09-03 05:56 (UTC)

"You see, now that is an interesting idea," he says, casually pointing to Joscelin for emphasis and standing up to pace while he thinks. It's a really good idea actually. One that he hasn't thought of before.

"Though I do fear that legitimisation might enable other groups to attempt violent upheavals themselves. After all, if it worked for the wolves, why not others? I have no interest in encouraging that..."

Joscelin hadn't really expected to be taken seriously, but he rather likes that for once he's thought of one eventuality that Cesare hadn't considered.

"We're no strangers to violent upheavals ourselves," he reminds Cesare. "It's been less than a year since we had to petition to be let back on the Council, but we managed it. You've even unseated bloody Sylvia Redbright. Tell your doggy stooge, whoever he may be, that he is responsible for the conduct of his kind. Like a hostage, but phrase it more prettily." Joscelin's more fond of public executions for bad behavior, but he figures political ruin is probably just as effective in this day and age.

"And who else would want to be represented? The ghosts? Half of them can't even cross the river to get to Westminster, and the fae have their own government over in fairyland."

"I'm simply aware that it's a slippery slope," Cesare says a little warily. "As soon as you give a person one thing, they try to take ten more." After all, isn't that what Cesare has done? He expects people to be just as bad as him, just with slightly less wine.

"But I'll take it into account," he says with a slightly dismissive smile, though he does mean it. He just doesn't think it's a great idea just yet.

Delilah isn't press, but she has a pass anyway, dressed smart in a white suit that perfectly compliments her, well, everything. She doesn't do things by halves.

Still, she takes notes dutifully and listens to him talk and answer any questions with more vague promises of justice and peace, and raises her hand to get his attention before he leaves — probably to get away before anyone asks any real questions.

"Mr. Borgia, if I might. Why should we have any more confidence in you than the previous President? She preached much of the same."

Cesare doesn't recognise her, which he finds odd. At this point he knows the press rather well indeed (he and *** are on first name terms). Also her light suit is unusual. Call Cesare old fashioned but he had always thought that white was saved for virgins or whores. All together, he's decided that she's the intern. A clueless but well intentioned intern.

"She was corrupt. I am not." He replies quickly and dismissively, already moving to leave. He has no intention of allowing anymore difficult questions.

He's out the door as soon as he can be, walking down the corridor with his entourage.

"Says the Borgia," Delilah says under her breath, which gets a titter from the person next to her, but she honestly doesn't care about what the person next to her thinks. What she cares about is the man who just brushed her off, and she gets up to follow him out of the press room.

She doesn't rush, but her strides are purposeful and she catches up easily, expensive heels clacking on the floor as she somehow manages to slip into his entourage and fall in step beside him.

"You didn't answer the question."

Cesare is not used to being so bluntly spoken to like that. Not anymore anyway. He turns to her, brow furrowing. Who does she think she is?

"Yes I did." Or at least he answered as well as any politician could. "And you shouldn't be in here." He'll need to have a discussion about the tightening of security around here. Too many leaders have been assassinated lately for it to be ok that some random intern managed to slip into the back room with no trouble.

"No." Is her response, flatly disagreeing with him and ignoring the topic of where she should or shouldn't be entirely, "what you did was brush me off."

He might be assuming she's just some intern, but there's a confidence to her that doesn't belong at all to someone in that position. She speaks to Cesare like he's a peer and holds herself with the self-assured demeanour of someone who belongs to be wherever she wants to be.

Wow. The intern has some guts. Cesare squints at her for a second, not quite knowing how to handle it, before gesturing for his team to leave. With the two of them alone and not being overheard he leans in a little to speak to her.

"Off the record, Ms Redbright was too focused on keeping her position than doing good for this city. Unlike her, I actually intend to help London. Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to that..."

"So you keep saying." She rolls her eyes, it feels a lot like he's going hard on how awful and corrupt Redbright so he doesn't have to offer any of his own credibility. Which, to be fair, is a solid tactic, but there's only so many ways to spin it.

Delilah looks up at him, unblinking and clearly not planning on going anywhere just yet, "I'm not asking how you're different to her, I'm asking why anyone should believe you."

Cesare is growing increasingly impatient. He's trying to do his job and here is some stubborn intern who isn't listening to him. He just about manages to resist rolling his eyes, but while he smiles at her, he's clearly frustrated.

"My track record speaks for itself. I have consistently fought for unity through peaceful negotiation and discussion. You can repeat why should we believe you? all you like but actions and facts do not lie, Ms...." He pauses, searching for a name that she hasn't given him.

"Have you?" She comments, clearly not believing him. It's said with the lingering 'I hadn't noticed' hanging in the air. Cesare has said a great many things, largely vague comments about getting along and wanting a peaceful future, but she can't say that she's actually seen him do anything.

Ok. So no name. Fine. Quite frankly, Cesare has had enough of this young woman. She's rude, belligerent and, in his opinion, has no idea what she's talking about. She's too new to know any better but insists on throwing her weight around. Does she even realise who she's talking to? He's done. He nods as politely as he can as he takes a step away to leave.

"Do some research before you next speak to me again, madam. Read some articles, look at a few voting records. Hopefully next time you will be more informed. I look forward to it."

That's fine. Somebody's bound to pick up the "President rushes out of the room after an uncomfortable question" story, which isn't what she was after exactly, but it's something. Delilah sighs softly and nods, "same to you, Mr. President."

She takes her pass off and leaves it on the nearest surface as she walks past Cesare to see herself away, (it doesn't have her name on it. it's not even a woman's name,) adding as she passes him, "a tip for later, Mr. Borgia. Wait for the reporter to confirm it's off the record before you speak."

And away she goes.

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If I am infomodding too much, tell me and I can step back. :)

Re: If I am infomodding too much, tell me and I can step back. :)

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