[sub][sub][h3][color=#88474B] [b][i]I V A L I C E[/i][/b][/color] || June 24th - 6:23 PM[/h3][/sub][/sub][hr][img]http://img13.deviantart.net/ae66/i/2014/123/0/7/futuristic_city__1920x1080__by_themastern1-d7gy22g.jpg[/img]
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In the center of the city, inside a high tower of the Palace, the tangerine light from the setting sun filled the spacious, circular room, pouring in from an entirely glass wall to the north of its entrance. The light tinted the refined decor of the space, adding to a palette of muted colors: maroons, forest greens, deep purples. It gave enough light to cast shadows behind the two lone figures in the middle of the room, both absently watching the ongoings of Ivalice as the day came to a close.

"Is it contained?"

The fine, yet firm voice came from the woman to the right of the intricately constructed table where the two were sitting, upon which a teapot, two cups, and a small platter of finger foods were resting. Light from outside colored this woman's greying hair, pulled up into a high, neat bun and held in place by an ornate rustic golden barrette. Her long, richly blue gown spilled onto the marble floor, and though it was obviously attire for the affluent, it was relatively simple in design. Pale, slender fingers were nursing a porcelain cup and saucer, which occasionally made its way up to subtly pursed lips. Sitting with pristine posture, she possessed a very mature air about her, although one would never have guessed her old age. There was an obvious lack of wrinkles or fine lines on her face, though the quiet confidence nestled behind sharp, blue eyes was enough to indicate years of experience. Yet despite her imposing demeanor, her charm and warmth still emanated without fail. 

"Yes, mam," came the cool reply, a low, drawling alto from the woman sitting across from her. She too had a saucer and teacup, but she held the cup within the palm of her hand instead of delicately holding it by the handle with her fingers. Though much younger than her clear superior, her posture was no less perfect. Shoulders rolled back, spine lengthened, ankles crossed together near the legs of the cushioned chair. In contrast to her surroundings, this female seated across the table sported a sleek, almost-blackened blue armored bodysuit that fit snugly to her athletic build. Her hair, jet-black and waist-length, was styled the way she'd been doing it for most of her life; straight out of a very old magazine she'd come across, which displayed hairstyles from the "1940s". Two victory rolls crowned her head, while the rest of her hair lay in waves down her back. Prominent cheekbones cut through her slender face, which sported deep-set jade green eyes that might have spawned the phrase 'if looks could kill'.

The two ladies continued to sip from their drinks in comfortable silence for a few moments, before the first woman spoke again. 

"Ophelia, you are aware that the consequences of a mishap during this meeting would be disasterous-"

"Yes, I am very aware, my Queen." 

Both women finally tore their gazes away from the cityscape to look at each other. There was some sort of stare-off between the two, before Queen Cereza relented and relaxed into her seat. It wasn't so much out of defeat than it was respect. After all, she'd known Ophelia personally for upwards of eight years, and she knew her Knight General would've handled everything with agency. After taking a long draw of her tea, she flashed the girl a warm smile and set both saucer and cup down on the table before her. "I apologize, dear. You know I'm just concerned about this meeting..."

Ophelia, also being quite at ease in her relationship with the Queen of Ivalice, mirrored her lady's smile over the rim of the cup - a rare sight for those not in her good company. "No apology needed, mam. I understand." Replacing her drink on the table, as well, she continued, "Everything is in place. All my men have been trained and briefed, all security measures have been activated, and all the formalities for the President and his entourage..." the women shared an almost comic glance at the mention of Algareth's Presidential party with each other before she continued, "are being taken care of as we speak."

Nodding, Queen Cereza inhaled deeply while idly tracing patterns on the table with her finger tip. Her gaze slipped into a more serious state as she asked, "And are we [i]sure[/i] it's contained?" Wanting to alleviate her worry, Ophelia matched her tone with her lady's meaningful stare. She knew there was only one way to comfort her when she was this concerned. Checking, double checking, and triple checking. "Yes, mam, I'm sure. But-" The Knight General rose from her chair and moved to stand at her leader's shoulder, placing a hand on it and squeezing reassuringly. "I will go check on the status again and have someone report back to you."

The Queen, always appreciative of her right-hand's thoughtfulness, lifted her own hand to give Ophelia's a little squeeze of its own. "Thank you, dear. You know me so well." She chuckled under her breath, and watched as the girl left through the large doors, before turning her attention back to the setting sun.