TBTT 27. Going through the motions

[moonshadows]

She sits, outwardly impassive. Inside, she seethes with nervous impatience. Her black slacks are clean and crisply creased, tucked into the soft black boots that hug her calves. The long-sleeved red shirt with the high neck has been meticulously embroidered in black, resembling the uniforms of the Warlord's guards without mimicking them. She half-regrets having gotten her hair permed; the dark-gold curls looked cute, but cute is not what she's going for now. A severe tail minimizes the effect, at least. Her usual floral scents have been passed over in favor of more gender-neutral ones. Today, she will be introduced to the members of the cabinet, and she does not want to seem like a teenage girl.

When the door opens, she is ready. The guard holding it open looks uncomfortable, and pretends she's not there. Past him, the Warlord waits with her amulet prominently displayed on the chest of his immaculate black suit. His mind is writhing with anxiety over the planned introductions, so busy shrieking half-strangled hopes regarding how she will act that she nearly misses the quiet note of pleasure for her appearance. It calms her own nervousness, being able to hear how he wants her to behave. All she has to do is follow these silent orders.

"Come," he commands casually. She stands and walks obediently to the door. "Follow," he says just before she passes through, and as smoothly as if it had been rehearsed, she falls into step behind him as he turns and strides down the corridor. His four guards adjust so that they are evenly spaced around her.

The stone corridors they travel down are not ones she has ever seen, but she absorbs the familiarity that drifts down from the minds of the guards and knows exactly where they are. When they stop before an ornately-bound door, one of the guards steps forward to knock briskly. The guard waits five seconds, then opens the door. Two more guards precede the Warlord, and the fourth stands vigilant in the corridor, watching for enemies.

Inside the spacious office, a thin woman stands in front of her desk and bows. "Warlord Raphael."

He scowls. "Minister of War."

The minister appears unruffled by her Lord's displeasure. There is a clear thought from her that so long as he permits her this small impertinence, she is doing her job well and need not fear his wrath. He makes a vague gesture over his shoulder, and Tessa follows his unspoken command to step forward. She bows to the minister, who gives her a once-over and a brisk nod.

"Minister of War Agnes, this is my tame demon, Jentessa."

From the tone of her public thoughts, the Minister of War seems inclined to disbelieve that this skinny little girl could be much of a threat - or a benefit. The half-demon is tempted to relax a few layers of illusion and let her eyes glow, but her Lord wants her underestimated, so she smiles blankly instead.

"I'll see you at the meeting, my Lord," the minister says coolly.

He gives the minister the same nod she gave his demon, and leads the guards back out.

The next office belongs to Minister of Finance Lawrence, who peers curiously at her. He remembers her from the day Joshua surrendered her to the Warlord, and she remembers him as well. She gives him the same beatific smile she'd worn that day, and listens as he thinks sourly that she's no doubt some under-age exotic gold-digger trading her body for the position she now occupies.

Minister of Agriculture Henry actually gives her a half-bow rather than a nod. She reminds him of one of his sister's children, and he is inclined to forget that she is a demon. The Minister of State doesn't care what she is, he just wishes he could see her without her clothes. It takes an effort to smile blankly at that one. The ministers of Justice and Defense dismiss her as harmless. Transport is sure he's being introduced to the Warlord's whore but doesn't care as long as it helps keep his temper in check. Health distrusts her completely, and she makes a note to sift through his thoughts whenever she can. The last minister she is introduced to is a quiet, dumpy lady in charge of Industry named Helen, who recognizes the harmless appearance for the act it is and respects her for it. Helen is also the only one who fully expects her to be a weapon in the Warlord's arsenal.

The walk back to her quarters is silent, but she can hear his thoughts buzz relief that she has performed up to his expectations, mixed with annoyance that he will be spending the next several hours in close proximity to his ministers. The two guards stationed at her door salute briskly as they approach, and smoothly open the door as she is gestured inside. As the door closes behind her, his mind stabs out in fear that she will misunderstand his reticence.

Driven by a whisper of intuition she does not understand, she strips out of her improvised uniform and into the shirt and pants embroidered with her name and his. She wants to work on either her uniform or the other project, but instead finds herself doing stretches and warming up. The physical activity is soothing after having kept herself so restrained for the morning, and she loses herself in the hand-to-hand routine she learned in school.