[Flashback] Vive la Revolution! [Ra's al Ghul]

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The sun slowly rises above the horizon near Paris, chasing away the coldness of another spring night. Dionisia returned home almost an hour ago - the consequences of waiting too late to return could be disastrous, so it's always best to not cut it close. She may have an excellent sense of time after centuries of being so bound to it, but that doesn't mean that she can afford to take risks. The night was short, but she'd traveled far so when she returned she'd spent the remainder of the night simply resting her mind while laying on her bed. Though as the sun rises she feels it's effects immediately: the dawn is always so energizing and sharp to the senses, even as it strips away her nightly powers.

Her energy restored, Anne gets up immediately and unlocks the door to her suite, allowing Agnès to enter. The maid says nothing but nods politely as she walks in. Only her husband, Florent, knows of her nightly transformations, though she'd heavily altered the story of exactly how she came to be afflicted with the condition. The servants, on the other hand, only know that for whatever reason their Lady locks herself in her suite every night and isn't seen again until dawn. Instead, they know another secret - that she isn't nearly as kind and charming when her husband is out of earshot as she is when he is. Which is why Agnès knows that she is to never be late in arriving outside Lady Montagne's door each morning, especially as Lord Montagne isn't due to return for a few more days at least.

Every morning's first order of business is to get dressed. Which is a simple affair now - Anne can still remember with annoyance the lengths she'd had to go through only a decade ago, especially if she made an appearance at court, to follow the fashion trend. Luckily, Queen Marie started a new trend when she, in what some accused was a fit of madness, began spending vast amounts of time out in the countryside and stopped wearing the white face paint, the giant wigs, and the overly elaborate dresses. Instead a portrait of the Queen indicated that she was wearing nothing but her underwear. Or at least, that's what all that loose, white fabric looked like. Ah, the scandal! But no, the simpler, more practical styles of the peasants in the countryside has caught on. Except, of course, that Ladies such as herself can afford much finer fabrics, embroidery, and other things to still distinguish themselves from the ragged masses.

Heading into her dressing room, she lets Agnès do most of the work in getting her ready for the day. A day that she suspects will be quite boring. It always is when Florent is away, because her options are to either linger around at home or visit her 'peers' in theirs. And while the latter can be a very good way to gather the latest gossip from court, it's nothing compared to the long conversations she sometimes has with Florent. The affairs of the country or even their march are far more interesting than the inconsequential matters that seem so important to the other Ladies. Lately he's been expressing some concern about the recent revolutionary stirrings among the lower classes - an obvious consequence of King Louis XVI's incompetence. She can't imagine that it will get too much worse, though, if only because she expects the problems will be resolved before they get too terrible. The monarchy in France has been well-established for centuries, after all - one foolish King is hardly enough to ruin that.

It doesn't take Agnès too much time have her carefully arrayed in one of her favorite dresses, but she has to frown when she's asked which hat she wants to wear - the simple mob cap she'd want to wear if she'd rather try to find some way to amuse herself at home, or one of the more elaborate hats she wears when she goes out visiting? Ugh, if only she had something interesting to do today!

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The rising spring sun slowly rose across the few lush fields dotted around the many stately homes in the area. By sunrise, it had placed it’s barely with in view of the City of Paris, illuminating little of great capital of this nation. Or at least it was once great. Corruption from the rich and anger from the poor has met one another, forming a tornado of political views which threaten to tear apart the Country. In the mind of some, a strong hand was needed to control the situation, a power the King had so little off. Dragged along by a pair of horses, a rather expensive carriage moved down a cobbled road, its wheels jumping around between stones. The driver sat garbed in black, his face wrapped in a shroud. Only his eyes stirred, looking to the either side of the vehicle. A large house appeared in the distance, with moderately high walls concealing most of the ground.

With in the carriage, two men sat together, each looking out of the window. The one who sat on the right, a tall thin figured individual with a white wig, spoke first to his companion. “I hope you are right about this, I hear that Montagne has left the country on a trip to Austria. What luck will you have when he is not home?” Arching his eyebrows slightly, he crossed one leg and sighed deeply. The interior of the carriage was mostly filled with shadows with only the two windows providing any illumination. Silence fled in again, as the other man was staring out of the window, watching a pair of birds swoop through the air together, like a dancer and his partner. “You must remember, you came to my organisation for help. You need my help, not I need your’s. We do this how I say or not at all.” The man turned from looking out of the window with a stern face. His eyes a light green, as intimidating as the thin mouth with in his dark beard.

“This is true; I just see no logic in this plan.” He was obviously becoming jittery when it came to think about this plan, a scheme he had little faith in. At this point, the darker man had grown impatient with him questioning his abilities, something he did not often have to think about. Propping himself forward, he fell into the shadow with only his eyes peering out. “I will not ask you again, Lafayette. You want your country to be free, well so do I. The corruption and hypocrisy of your leaders have left you a decadent and poor people, filled with criminals and vagrants. Through me, your Nation will be great once more but only through me. You’re an ill-equipped, poorly trained bunch of revolutionaries who think they can save the World with a few sticks and words.” Laughing deeply, his voice carried much spite, especially when he mentioned the crime with in the Cities.

Lafayette could not respond, he’d been knocked back into his place by his hired help, a man called Ra’s al Ghul. Whispers filled the streets that he was willing to aid any revolutionary had made the young military leader with a dislike for the current establishment, hunt him out which was not an easy task. Although he wonders if he allowed himself to be found, he was a rather mysterious figure at the best of times. Clothed in a dark green suit, holding a cane in one hand, Ra’s smirked with a manipulative smile to him. Suddenly, the carriage crept to a halt, with both of them looking out of the windows once more. A wall stood on Ra’s side, a few meters from them. With out another word, he climbed out of the vehicle and walked towards the driver, giving him a slight nod, receiving one on return. “Drive on, I expect to be here for longer than I’d like.” He spoke to him with a very authorative tone, not expecting a word in return besides him complying. With a pull of the reins, the horses advanced forward but not before Ra’s had passed his wooden cane to the driver.

In a quick movement, Ra’s jumped up the wall, leaping up with great skill and finesse. He was obviously an accomplished free runner, although he had made sure that no one was watching as he broke onto the property. In a few moments, he had reached the top of the wall, to which he pulled himself over, landing down upon the grass that made up the Mansion’s rear garden. Bushes lined the large patch of grass with a fountain shooting water out in the middle. An exquisite home even in Ra’s weary eyes. His shoes lightly crossed the grass, stepping upon the damp green from the night earlier. Passing through into the row of hedges, Ra’s hid well as two maids went past chatting with one another.

As soon as they had passed, he popped out of cover and continued to make his way to the rear of the house, looking up at the open window. Taking a deep breath, Ra’s pushed himself up the warm bricked wall, grabbing onto the small ledges which would hold his athletic weight. Much harder to traverse than the wall, Ra’s found that it would take more strength to pull himself around with his light and nimble feet. Voices echoed from the room above his head, two women. Moving along the house some more, he found an open window for him to climb in through, which he did with some effort. It was a bedroom, a very nice bedroom. They were still next door, chatting away with one another. A chair was placed by the door, a perfect location for him to sit until she enters, the door would hide him if someone entered. Sitting down, he crossed one leg over the other and placed his hands on the chair’s arms with a smirk upon his face, waiting for his target to enter.

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In spite of the current tension among the lower classes, Anne can afford to feel quite secure in her own home. While it's not much of a fortress, especially not of the caliber she's lived in at time in centuries past, the wall is high and there's guards at the front gate. Its position on the fringes of Paris rather than the center also makes it safer - if chaos does ever erupt, this won't be the first place the rabble goes to express their anger. In fact, since she expects that any such thing would quickly be taken care of, she wouldn't expect anything to end up happening here at all. If anything, she'd say that the most likely threat she may face is a particularly skilled thief or somesuch sneaking in past those defenses, but it's things like that which prompted her to learn the rather unladylike art of defending herself some centuries ago.

Though at the moment, her mind isn't on potential security breaches. No, instead she's pondering headwear. Sighing to herself, she eventually says, "Just get started on my hair." She can take the entire time that takes to figure out her plans for the day, after all. Or at least, that's the plan, until Agnès accidentally pulls too hard. "Aie! Can you be more careful, s'il vous plaît!" she gripes, cringing at the pain. "D-désolé, madame, I w-will try to be m-more careful," is Agnès's meek reply.

The truth of the matter is that it really isn't her maid's fault - it's the fashion. Though powdering it and piling it high is thankfully on its way out, to be stylish one must still have an excess of volume and curls. And unlike most of the other Ladies, Dionisia has fond memories of the days when it was simply sufficient to have hair, keep it clean and perhaps braid it back a bit. Not that she minds the end result - whatever the standard of beauty is in any era, she enjoys meeting it. She just wishes that it wasn't so painful to achieve sometimes!

Of course, she has her ways of coping with the pain and, since there's no danger of Florent overhearing her, she doesn't bother being quiet about it. "Try? You're always trying, you never actually do it. I should throw you back out on the streets where I found you - there must be thousands of girls with better hands than yours in this city. If my head is black and blue when you're done, expect me to do the same to your face!" she responds. But both she and Agnès know that she doesn't really mean it. Or at least, she doesn't really mean it this time - if Anne really was angry she really wouldn't shy away from striking Agnès's face instead of merely threatening it. She's even pulled one of her daggers on her maid before - it was around then when the girl started stuttering...

"D-désolé, madame..." Agnès replies quietly, making a greater attempt to be gentle but only able to do that to a degree - if she isn't careful to make sure that the end product is perfect, she knows that she'll make Lady Montagne even angrier. It's better to face a little anger for pulling too much than the rage she'd face for not providing a good finished product. When she finishes she takes a step back so that her work can be properly inspected in the mirror, but only receives a slight grimace for her efforts - as if her Lady only agrees that it's acceptable very reluctantly. Though it's with some relief that she notices that her mistress stands to look over her outdoor hats rather than the ones she'd wear at home. Good! With any luck that means that her Lady will spend most of the day away, leaving her free of the woman until evening.

Choosing a wide brimmed straw had with a generous helping of large feathers, Anne doesn't immediately put it on but carries it in her hand as she starts to leave the dressing room, but she pauses in the doorway to tell Agnès to, "When I return I expect my suite to be thoroughly cleaned - there's dust everywhere!" Nevermind that it's her own fault for leaving the window open all night. Having said that, she steps out of the dressing room, intending to head toward the kitchens so that she can ask for some breakfast while waiting for her coach to be prepared. "O-oui, madame..." Agnès responds, staying behind to straighten out the dressing room - she might as well start where she is.

Of course, neither woman has any idea at this point that there's anyone waiting just outside the room.

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The extensive use of the Lazarus Pits has left Ra’s with increased senses, which includes his hearing level. From the next room, he clearly heard every word said, from both the Younger Woman and the Older One. With a firm sigh, he wondered how long he would have to wait for, as he was in no mood to linger, he was a busy man after all. Slouching in his chair slightly, while listening to their conversation, picking upon her quiet groan of pain from the tugging of her hair, followed by the remark to her maid. To Ra’s it was her own fault for having it in such a stupid fashion, although once complete he did agree that women looked prettier. Growing up in the deserts, a young hardly ever saw women of great beauty however they were much stronger than those around today. How he longed for a woman who matched him in both ambition and strength, like his Wife of old. Not a day went past where he didn’t long for her, even if he never showed it under his hard exterior.

Standing up from the chair, he turned to his left, still in the cover of the door. A mirror stood, full length, showing him his own reflection. Holding onto his jacket lapels, he straightened his coat slightly. Before him stood his very own self, a man who had lived for so very long. His face was youthful, sharp and wise however beneath the exterior, he was weary and experienced, having seen many acts of terror. To a passing person, he appeared to be quite heroic looking with his tall, dark and striking features. To those who knew him, he was nothing more than an Old Man with a few tricks. And he knew it, he couldn’t outlive death it’s self no matter what he had up his sleeve.

Another barrage of speech came from the other room, so he moved back into position; it was time to make his move. The door swung open as she made her way into the room, walking as if she had a lot of anger with in her. Pressing his hand against the wooden door, he protected himself from being hit, waiting until she was in the room. He could only see the back of her; she was walking away from him to the other door. Her figure was slim, although she was likely wearing a stay which would improve her figure. Pushing the door back, he shut it lightly behind them, leaving them in private. Clearing his throat, he called out to her in a quiet voice, as to not raise suspicion with the maid next door. “Nice house you have here, you’re a very lucky woman, Mrs. Montagne” His voice was very gentlemanly, speaking in a very casual manner as if he often broke into mansions.

Both hands were placed behind his back as he began to approach her. Of course this was all part of his plan, a plan which focused around this woman. She could be used in a manner which she would never have imagined. Through her and her husband, a fire will be lit that will consume all the evil in the country however a large amount of deception was needed to start this fire. If his charms worked upon her, he could have her wrapped around his little finger. As the wife of one of the most influential nobles in Paris, she has great control over his actions, guiding his decisions. If she were to persuade him to openly fund a rebellion, then many more nobles might follow in his foot steps, turning Lafayette’s band of thugs into an army of fine warriors to match the militia. “I am Henri Ducard.” She had no reason to know his real name, thus a guise was needed to protect himself if she were to mention him. Secrecy had its benefits.

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The unexpected voice behind her causes Anne to instantly turn, and a scowl is very quick to disrupt the features of her normally beautiful face. "It's Lady Montagne!" she corrects instantly, even as she looks over her unexpected company. Given how carefully she'd had to work to get into her privileged position, she can only greet the lack of recognition of it with offense. She's a marquise, after all, and none should forget it!

But, other than her offense at how she'd been addressed, she's not sure what to make of the man who's appeared in her room. She doesn't recognize him, but the quality of his clothing suggests that he's not of the lower classes. But why, then, is he in her room? Beyond being highly improper, her servants would surely have announced a visitor instead of letting him in directly. Unless, of course, he sneaked his way in, but why would he have done that? You'd expect that of a common thief, yes, but common thieves can't afford fine clothing. All in all, she can hardly be anything less than suspicious of his intentions.

Her hands shift slightly, to casually hold her hat over one of the slits of her skirt that allow access to her pockets - probably so that she can take something out of it without it being noticed. And when he steps forward, she sidesteps to preserve the distance between them - a common move between two fighters and not one for a frightened woman who would more likely step backward. While it's still very common for young noblemen to be trained in how to fight beyond the ability to fire a gun, such can't be said for the women - it's not ladylike. They're meant to be pretty producers of heirs, not lead armies. Yet Lady Montagne is showing signs of being an exception. If he could see her footwork that would confirm it, but unfortunately her skirts are full length and large enough to hide the precise movements of her legs from view.

Still, her movements are of caution and not aggression - she's merely wary of him like any woman would be by the unexpected invasion of a man who is not her husband into her rooms. "I've never heard of you," she responds to his introduction, "If you're looking for my husband, he's not here."

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With a sigh, Ra’s obviously showed her that he cared very little for what ever title she’d been bestowed. And that is all that it was a title. Nothing more than a name to make people feel special and superior over their fellow man. It was something Ra’s cared little for, even though his name was originally adopted, his original long lost in his past. “I don’t care if you’re the Queen. You should be honoured that I’ve even spent the time to visit you.” He spoke in quite an arrogant tone, both hands behind his back as he approached her in a none aggressive manner, he obviously didn’t want to attack her. Even as she stepped to the side, his eyes never left her.

Although a common enough movement, Ra’s knew that her intentions were defensive ones as she moved away from him. “Don’t worry, I mean you know harm.” Both his hands were stretched away from his body, opening himself up. It was as if he was trying to prove that he was concealing nothing from her, in an attempt to win her trust. This would be a hard act for Ra’s but he was a master at concealing his true intentions, always eventually getting what he wants through any means. To him she was like any other woman, show her enough of what she wants and she’ll give you anything. Or at least that was the plan. She was nimble upon her feet, moving around him like a fencer during a fight, circling their opponent.

It was an uncommon thing for a woman to know how to face an enemy in combat, he could read her well and she obviously knew what she was doing. Perhaps her husband had taught her how to defend herself, a common thing in this violent nation. Many knew of the oncoming revolution, you could feel it in the streets. It was the reason for him being there. “Good. My business is my own and I like to keep it that way.” He wouldn’t be the best if everyone knew of him. Working from the shadows had certain benefits and securities, which Ra’s worked to his advantage. “I’m not here for him. I came to see you.” Ra’s moved back over to a seat in the corner, sitting himself down upon it, his eyes still inspecting her.

Smirking, he sat looking at her patiently. “Tell me, what do you know about the so called the revolution brewing in this Nation? I find it a rather radical idea that one’s people can overthrow its leaders, but I suppose leaders such as yours do need evicting.” First he would need to know of her views on the matter, allowing him the chance to grade how much work he’d need to do on her, before she changes her mind. Being rich, she obviously would hate the idea but by the end of their conversation, he was sure that she’d have a new view. Over throwing governments was not new to Ra’s, he’d done it before. The Boston Tea Party was his doing after all.

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As far as Anne is concerned, she is special and superior over her fellow man. Her title is an official recognition of that fact, even though she'd had to marry Florent to get it - she deserved it even before that, but the marriage gave her what was already rightfully hers. Honestly, she deserves an even higher title, but those are difficult to procure. "Who are you, that I should be honored?" she replies, her voice so full of arrogance and doubt that she's practically offended that he'd say such a thing. If there was a man by the name of Henri Ducard that is worth knowing, then she'd recognize the name. But she doesn't, so he isn't, so he's clearly beneath her.

Of course, a part of that assessment is because her opinion of him is already tainted by the sheer fact that he's here, in her bedroom. Whether he's noble or not, he's clearly a despicable person for simply showing up here no matter how that was accomplished. "You show up here uninvited, and I'm expected to believe you mean no harm?" she asks skeptically, though his denial does cause her to calm very slightly - that he's at least pretending that he means no harm is a sign that he's not planning on being immediately aggressive in an overt way. Though that doesn't mean that he isn't going to try something sneaky or wait until her guard is lowered.

And she does not intend to lower her guard, unless something happens to prove his intentions - unlikely, at this point. Whatever she took from her pocket remains hidden behind her hat, but she stops circling the moment he stops trying to approach her. As he sits she eyes him much the way someone would a poisonous snake; wary due to the very nature of what she's looking at but at the moment not worried that she's in any immediate danger - the amount of time it would take for him to stand up from the chair would be way too much to catch her by surprise, no matter how fast he is, so the gesture provides her with some additional comfort. When he says that he's here to see her, her eyebrow raises sharply in a mixture of surprise and disbelief. She can't say that she particularly wants to speak with such a discourteous person, but on the other hand she suspects that it would be far more difficult to get rid of him without doing so than it would be if she did.

But at least the question that he asks is mildly interesting, though she quickly takes note that he referred to the nation's leaders as being hers and not theirs - so he must not consider himself French. Odd, given his name is clearly French... "Revolution? In France?" she asks, scoffing immediately at the very idea, "It would hardly come to that! Off in some colony on some remote corner of the world, perhaps, but here in Europe? Never! Let the beggars in the streets say what they will, they could never overthrow the aristocracy here! The King may be incompetent and foolish, but all that's needed to solve that problem is a simple coup. Let even Louis Stanislas become king - he seems to have a much better head for it than his brother." She shakes her head, "The idea of a revolution is nothing more than a fantasy conjured up by all the ridiculousness in the Americas." So no, not only does she not like the idea of a revolution, she questions whether it could actually happen here.

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To Ra’s, a title is nothing more than a form of protection for people who don’t wish to admit that they’re the same as others. A title shows the average type that they are better, that they are above them. One might argue that his own name for a mere title, he however would claim it is more of a rank, as he leads an army. She was likely born from wealth, she didn’t have to earn that title, and it was bestowed upon her. With Ra’s ideal World, men are required to work for high positions rather than inherit them from another man’s deeds. “I’m already the most important man in your life filled with Lords and Kings. Such petty men with very little real power or control. They’re oblivious to the true way of things, even if they do have their uses.” Smirking, he hinted to his own concealed organisation, who had secretly led the World for hundreds if not thousands of years. Men like that are easy to replace and bribe, making this no hard task for Ra’s.

Laughing at her, Ra’s stands up and begins to approach her once again, stroking his beard while doing so. Looking about the room, he begins to take in the bedroom, inspecting the furniture that has been dotted about. “You can believe what you want; I’ll either tell you or show you that I mean no harm. The former is much easier for you.” It could be said that Ra’s was a master of most forms of combat, which included knowing a wide array of persuasive techniques which he could use to alter people’s opinions and minds. If provoked he would lash out, likely injuring her to some extent although there’s a slim chance she might hold her ground but he doubted it. “Well maybe I’m lying; I could be a danger to you. Although depends exactly upon how you act.”

Her face was fair and ever youthful; he’d guess she was at most thirty years of age. Pure in his convictions, Ra’s never used women for pleasure; in fact he saw it as a root of evil. Thus he had little contact with the opposite sex, with the League only having a select few female warriors. Although the pain had numbed slightly, the thought of his Wife’s ordeal was still fresh in his mind. Perhaps he needed to forget about it, to move on to other Women. He was no stranger to sex though. He might be against the use of prostitutes but he was no novice in the bedroom, having used his sexual skills as a weapon of persuasion over women many times in the past.

Grinning at her response, Ra’s knew exactly what she’d think of such a radical idea. Things had been getting worse in the Country for years; poverty had wrecked the lower classes while greed kept the wealthy high and mighty. “Claim what you will, you can’t deny that if an event comes to pass, you will have very little to protect you from the masses. Even the army will not stop an up rise; they’re a shabby force of ill-equipped men with no experience. You might escape. Might. I predict that the nobles would be strung up for their crimes against the poor, meaning people like you would become public enemy number one.” Ra’s hoped that he was placing a level of fear in her, which will make his offer all the more appetizing. “I’d like to help you and perhaps even your Husband escape this terrible ordeal, if you allow me too.” Now he sat down upon the bed, patting it next to her in an attempt to guide her to sit next to him.

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As he speaks so arrogantly of himself, Anne raises a skeptical eyebrow. And yet, the few pieces of the puzzle in front of her don't fit together: He says that he's important, but anyone can do that. Yet he also looks important and that would be very difficult to do if he weren't simply due to the expense. But if he was important, then she'd know him already, or at least have heard his name if he was so high a member of the French aristocracy. So then he must be foreign? But his name is French...

She frowns slightly - her mind is going in circles here, trying to figure him out, and it's difficult to both ponder at the irregularities and keep an eye on him. And if she has to choose, she's going to have to pick the latter as she'll have all the time in the world to ponder when he's gone. So especially when he stands again and starts to try to advance upon her, her musing cease and she instead keeps her full attention on what's happening. Sidestepping again to keep him away from her, she asks, "So you're threatening me?" But she looks more amused than frightened. While she may not the best fighter in the world, she knows that she's good. To fight better than her one must be far more dedicated to the skill than the vast majority of people, so she can generally afford to be a bit arrogant about it - the odds that she'll bump into someone she can't defeat are relatively low. And even then she doesn't need to fear death - though it's very unpleasant and generally extremely painful when it happens in combat so she tries to avoid it if at all possible.

She too is very aware of the room, though as this is her bedroom she hardly has to look around to remember the layout. It's a very large room, and since all the furniture has been placed next to the walls, there's no shortage of open space in the center of the room. As it's on the corner of the house, two of the walls have large windows that allow a large quantity of light into the room at this time of day. The third wall is dominated by a large fireplace and the doorway to the rest of the house, while the fourth has the bed against it and the doorway to her dressing room. A few chairs, end tables, a couch, and other assorted furniture line most of the walls - all of it very finely made as her household is hardly lacking in money.

But though she's built a pleasant life for herself, she's hardly blind about how easily it could all disappear. That has happened to her a number of times before, and while it's terrible and you hardly get used to it, she also knows that she can rebound from such events. "I will be fine," she says simply, and with full conviction. But as she's not about to explain about her ability to simply disappear overnight or that in the worst scenario she wouldn't stay dead, she doesn't clarify that statement at all. Instead she adds, "Not only will that 'ordeal' never happen, even if it did I would hardly need any help." No, his attempt to frighten her is falling on completely deaf ears - she's simply too confident. And she completely ignores his encouragement to come join him - instead she stands half the room away, hands still idly holding her hat.

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A cruel smirk appears upon his thin lips as he watched her eyes bounce of his body; it was obvious that she was confused by him, as was his intention. She knew so little about him, and what she did know was fed from him to only entice her more. His name, a deceitful shroud to cover his true title. His clothing, a disguise which provides him entrance into the nobility of the country, or at least make it seem that way. How could she know of his true self, few do and he liked to keep it that way? Only arrogant fools go around telling the World of themselves, fools who are so easily assassinated. Sitting forward, his face lost its smirk and an indifferent one appeared. He was obviously tired of the pointless banter between the two of them, he was a busy man and she was currently wasting his time.

He rocketed up from the bed, bearing down upon her. He wasn’t used to being argued with, thus her point of view angered him. He wasn’t asking to hear about her opinion, only that she’d listen to his. Both hands behind his back, he loomed over her with a grim face, standing over her shorter stature. “I’m telling you to shut up and listen.” He’d tried to be calm and nice with her, obviously that was getting him no where. Perhaps she’d respond better to a more aggressive approach. Ra’s was sick of the blindness that people could show. Blinded by money and power, she should walk the streets herself before making any comments upon the state of the nation.

“Did that you know that the lower classes make up ninety five percent of the population of this Country? Walk the streets, listen to the plans many have made for you and your friends in Versailles.” It was true; many have planned this revolution for years. Spurred by the great success of the American Revolution against the British, many Frenchman want the same from their country. To have freedom and equality, with out a corrupt King controlling their lives. It was a noble thought; Ra’s has seen first hand what a Tyrant the leader has become, starving his people. In other cases, Ra’s might suggest destroying the Capital, killing many civilians yet removing the current hierarchy, a worthy sacrifice. This time however he wanted a change and that is why he was speaking with her. “I’m offering you one chance, if you were wise you’d listen to me. I know what power you have over that Husband, that he is easily influenced by you.” At this point he had begun to circle her, keeping his eyes upon her.


He stopped for a moment and a grin curved upon his face as he turned his head over his shoulder, looking bat at her before turning to face her. “Why do you keep him around? You’ve shown me that unlike most of your gender, you’re quite a capable woman. If you were not so set in your ways, I might have considered sharing some of my power with you. Alas you wouldn’t be interested in that.” Ra’s stood looking out of the large window, smiling with an evil grin. He knew that if there was one thing women loved it was the chance for more power. Of course he was lying, he’d never share his power with her but she didn’t know that. To be honest he found it hard to find a strong woman these days, in fact he hadn’t been active with a woman for a few years, he’d found he had little time for it. He had been busy as of late.

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The sudden movement catches Anne slightly off-guard - not that she hasn't been watching him suspiciously since he came here, but the speed with which he approaches after having been so calm is unexpected. Her response is quick and reflexive; she sidesteps again but this time his speed forces her to move quickly as well. Though her skirts still hide the precise movement of her legs, her quickness as well as the way she so lightly steps past a chair without looking at it instead of bumping into it or removing her eyes from him - all without really thinking about it - hints that she's very acutely aware of both her movements and surroundings. And as Ra's would know well, that's a skill that takes a bit of developing and isn't the product of a few self-defense lessons.

At the same time, his movements force her to become more fully aware of him. He's quite tall, and fast when he wants to be. The way he towers over her for an instant before she's able to move her away triggers a certain instinct she still has in spite of the fact that it's less necessary in her case than average: he's a threat to take seriously. She considers herself to be a powerful woman, both deadly and cunning in spite of shortcomings like her size and lack of physical strength when compared to a man. But perhaps in spite of her own skills, this is one that she needs to be careful about? Yet in spite of this realization, she's not very prone to being fearful. And if she's honest with herself, his boldness and persistence make him too interesting for her to even be that angry. No, actually she finds all of this rather exciting - she may have been alive for hundreds of years, but situations like this are unique.

Still, she has her pride, and his rude orders cause her to retort, "You can't tell me what to do!" Though she does otherwise stop talking for a moment and listen - though not because he told her to, but because he quite naturally has her attention now. But then again, just because she's listening doesn't mean that she agrees with what he's saying. Based on her expressions, his talk of the plans of the lower classes is dismissively shrugged off, though when he says that he knows of her power over Florent she's clearly surprised by that. It's not something that many would suspect very easily, as he has quite the powerful personality in his own right. On the other hand, it's no secret at court that he simply adores his wife, and would move heaven and earth for her if she asked.

Of course, what Florent has never really noticed is that he gets all his best ideas and frequently changes his mind about things while talking them over with her. It's a subtle thing, so she's a bit surprised to find herself being called out on it. Though, finding herself in that unexpected position, she finds herself smirking to herself as she says, "You're so blind to be asking me that! Do the other men of this country know a capable woman when they see one? Do they show her any respect? Will they listen to anything she says? No, the only power for a woman here is what she has over an easily influenced husband, because apparently his couilles make him easier to hear. But that alone is all I need - you may keep your power, I already have my own."

Then again, she can't say that she dismisses his hint of an offer lightly. It's tempting - so tempting - to change her tune and attempt to get him to say more about this 'power' he could share with her. But she's lived plenty long enough to know that real power isn't simply handed to you, as that can be taken away just that easily. No, it has to be earned, and at least for the moment she's content with what she has even if she's always searching for a better place to put herself when she must abandon her current life and find a new one.

"And as for the lower classes," she adds, "Yes there's a lot of them. The immoral, illiterate, filthy, uneducated, simpleminded masses - they want to rule themselves, do they? They think they can overthrow their betters, do they? Even if they managed to succeed, they'd pull the country right back into the dark ages - wouldn't that be a huge improvement for everyone?" The sarcasm in her last question is so thick that it's practically visible.

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His eyes never left her, seeing more than just her cold expressions. Every movement she took, his eyes were focused upon her, recording how she gracefully passes around the room. As was the fashion of the day, Anne obviously wore a flowing dress which would diminish her speed although she maintained her quick evasive movements when ever he approached her. Through the material, her feet were covered which gave her the element of surprise if she were to attempt to attack him. Although he doubted she would, he had to take everything into consideration and she didn’t seem like a woman to underestimate. Again she graced passed another piece of furniture with out seeming to think about it, as if she did so instinctively. Her senses were toned, improved, more than a lesson here or there would teach. It took Ra’s many years before he had the skill; how she had it amazed even him.

For Ra’s, who spends many a day locked away in his study, this meeting had given the chance to be active again. For the best part of ten years, since the ending of the American Revolution, he has kept away from the Western World’s problems, retreating to his Mountain Fortress. Even if this meeting was in vain, he had still found another reason to continue his cause; to remove the stubbornness and arrogance of those who don’t fear famine or poverty. Still, she had surprised him with her resilience. One part of him hated this, wishing she’d stay quiet and do as he commanded. However secretly her will did appeal to him, she had fire in her heart to stand up to a stranger such as herself. The League could use a woman like that.

Smirking at her surprised face, Ra’s walked up to the mirror at the end of the room, looking in it back at her as she stood behind him. With his elongated fingers, he began to adjust his sleeves, moving the cuffs slightly before turning back around to her, his evil smile still upon his face. He knew that would catch her off guard. Through the whispers of many at court, Ra’s through his façade of Henri, had pieced together how their marriage worked. He quickly learned that before they met, Florent had very little diplomatic prowess yet all that changed when they married one another. But who was she? That took very little effort to discover. She was well known around court for her cold, calculating behaviour which had allowed her to maintain her power for so long.

“Power? You have control, not power. But I understand your argument; Women are naturally the weaker sex trying to make it in a strong World ruled by men with more “power” then you’d ever have. Men like me. Although I’m a rarity in that I don’t own a palace nor do I impose taxes upon others as your friends have done so excessively lately.” Governments and Kings can so easily be deposed with the click of his fingers. If only she could know the true extent of his power, how he had shaped the very world they lived in. Looking at her face, he could see that she was becoming interested even if she claimed otherwise. Her eyes told the truth. At the mention of power they shot up to him, never leaving his own emerald irises.

“The angry, violent, the militant masses who can be taught how to wage war. Do you think the army will support you rather than there own kind, of course they won’t, they’re just as sick of you as the rest of them are. Famine and taxes has pushed them, you have forced them into this position of violence. There’ll be nothing stopping them from killing you and your husband, taking control of this land. However you raise a good point, they’ll never lead themselves. Once the Monarchy is gone, perhaps they will take heed from their American brothers, electing their own to lead.” Ra’s had passed around to the rear of her, standing over her with his piercing eyes. “Rather than fight them, join them, fuel their cause. They won’t have reason to kill their allies who have renounced their nobility. They might even elect a strong woman like yourself to lead, have you ever considered a life of politics?” A laugh erupted from his mouth however it stopped as quickly as it began. His voice was quieter, smoother and tender now. Hopefully this would win her over.

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When he steps away again to look into the mirror, Anne's tension eases somewhat, but now she's more on the alert than ever. And she's pretty much given up on trying to figure out who this man is, at least not without more information - perhaps she can make some careful inquiries later? It's not something to currently be found in her head - that's something she's become certain of. And the unknowns only add to the mystery.

She is not, however, that surprised by the nature of the smile he casts in her direction. However he figured that out, she can only guess. She has always been extremely sweet and polite around her husband and while out and about. It's only some her servants who know how she really is - the ones that she knows will be frightened into silence. This visitor is only getting her bad side because of the way in which he's invaded her private rooms.

Then again, as he continues to be uncommonly interesting and so annoyingly arrogant, on top of showing hints that perhaps his arrogance is in fact warranted, she can't help but be intrigued. Even if he seems so quick to try to dismiss her - if anything that only encourages her to argue with him. Then again, she has secrets of her own that she's not willing to discuss. But like him, she can certainly hint. "Do not compare me to other women!" she says, sounding almost offended, "I'm no ordinary woman, and I have more power than you could ever guess. It neither begins nor ends with my husband." Much more than that she's not sure that she should say.

And yet she watches carefully, though she's not sure how much of it is because she knows he's potentially dangerous and she should therefore be careful, and how much it's because she's simply curious to see what he'll do. Though her brown eyes become somewhat annoyed at how he's speaking now. "You make it sound as if the way that the nobility treats the masses is my fault personally. No - if it were me, it would be being managed with far more finesse. They make so many foolish mistakes, easily fixed and yet they're ignored," she admits with a shrug, willing to agree that her peers possess many flaws. But she doesn't trust him enough to allow him to position himself behind her, instead turning to match his movements around her - she remembers the way he moved moments ago, after all. Then again, by virtue of the fact that he both hasn't attacked her yet and continues to keep this conversation peaceable, she's beginning to suspect that she may not need to worry about violence suddenly erupting and she's becoming less concerned about keeping far away from him. Just so long as he doesn't come within easy weapon range, anyway - she doesn't trust him that much.

"And yet this aristocracy is still better suited to rule the people than they could themselves," she continues, still quick to sneer at the lower classes, "Or do you actually believe them capable of making a decent choice as to who shall be their leader? The most skilled leaders rarely have the popular opinion of the public." She scoffs lightly at that. "I see no reason to renounce my nobility - I deserve it! And I hardly care to convince the miserable beggars to love me, even if they'd take a woman seriously - those with real power can take it, and don't have it handed to them," she replies, though she doesn't look unflattered by his referring to her as a strong woman.

But the idea of becoming a politician in a more democratic system has no appeal to her. And it won't for a couple more centuries yet - she's used to ruling by fear and apparent inherent right. Some glorified popularity contest is not her style. Instead she'll find herself more suited to the world of business, where she can wield her power over a corporation more in the manner to which she has become accustomed. It's only when she's become bored and frustrated with the limits of that position that she'll decide to make an attempt at politics to see if it's more satisfying.

And yet for all their differences of opinion, she finds herself smirking when he laughs. They're in a verbal duel of sorts, neither of them willing to give up ground but neither able to drive off the other either.

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Hopefully she’d lower her guard at some point; she can’t keep with hostility up forever. Although he wondered how he’d feel if someone had broke into his Mountain Headquarters – likely not very well, the intruder would either face death or The Head of the Demon would take notice of them and would accept them into the order. Criminals deserve death of course but they can always serve a higher purpose if they are willing to give themselves to the League, to give in to true justice. And that is what Ra’s and his followers see themselves as, true justice.

The Demon is every where, with eyes and ears across the World, doing their master’s bidding. And servants say so many revealing things when they think they’re alone, such as what really happens behind close doors. And even if she is more threatening and intimidating that he expected, Ra’s could guarantee that he could be equally if not more so terrifying when the situation demands it. If he desired, Ra’s could have had her husband murdered, leaving her with all the power before making contact however such a plan could leave her even more prone to such suggestions as helping the poor, now that she’d be in control which would make her less likely to give her position up.

Even through she attempted to show little interest, Ra’s could see beneath her façade. Anne wants more than this; he can see it in her eyes as she glances at him, with a fire in her eyes. She many claim to be uninterested but her eyes have never left him, not since he’d approached her. But of course she wouldn’t just come out with such a truth, rather hide it behind self-control. Smirking at her inflamed anger, Ra’s paid little attention to her opinion, believing that the words of women to be as false as their faces when wearing their makeup. “You’ve not yet proved to me that you are more than other Women. There are a hundred Women in the same position as yourself and I could go to any of them with my offer.” If she does take up his offer, he won’t be required to as a leading light in the aristocracy is more than enough to lead others to the cause.

She might ask why she’s even needed at all. The League prides itself upon its secrecy and manipulation. If Ra’s was to come out into the open and lead the Revolution, too many questions would be asked about his background, questions which could ruin the integrity of the Order. Thus for major matters such as these, The League needed to act through people, to stay in the shadows. This is where people like Anne come into the fold, so easy to control as long as they get what they want out of it. “There’s thousands of aristocrats who say the same thing; I don’t do it personally but combined you make up the problem. Plus it’s not like you’ve done anything to help them.” She had ambition; it was obvious that she had thought about being in control before by the tone of her voice. “Once you’ve helped them with their cause and they think you’re one of their own, they’ll put you in power. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” They’d think she’d lost what it was to be an aristocrat and seeing her as one of the smarter, they’d place her in a seat of power.


“You’ve never gave them a chance, look at the Americas, a Country as large as this one, they now lead themselves and they are at the forefront of the World.” The United States of America was formed with some aid from the League, destroying the tea in Boston and promoting George Washington, all acts done by Ra’s and his men. Of course he couldn’t tell her that as she’d begin to suspect something. “I represent a separate party which would support you and your cause, ensuring that you’d become leader of something. But don’t think that gives you free reign. You wouldn’t want a Revolution organized against you, would you now?” A Free France wouldn’t become like the previous State, corrupt and filled with poverty.

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Does Anne want more than this? Of course! She's perpetually unsatisfied, really. Which would be unfortunate, except that attempting to satisfy herself when she can't be satisfied is an excellent way to spend an immortal life. Though killing Florent would not help her at all - if it would, then she would have done the deed herself even though she genuinely likes the man. France is, sadly, one of the last lingering countries that refuses to give a woman the ability to inherit - if something were to happen to Florent, then everything of his would instead go to his younger brother since they have no sons. It's quite unfair, really, but her husband is certainly necessary.

"I don't have to prove anything to you!" she snaps back, "If you're too blind to see what's in front of you, then you may go give your offer to one of the other hundred women - clearly it must not be worth much if you're willing to give it to just any marquise." She scoffs and shakes her head. How dare he treat her like she's just anyone! She's far more important than the other ladies of the same rank, and even those higher than herself for that matter. It rubs her the wrong way, to the point that she finds herself eager to provide the proof that he seems to want - though the problem with that is the question of how. She's certainly not willing to invite him to stay until sunset - though she can so easily picture the look of terror on his face if she did - but there must be some way to prove herself. Trouble is, she hardly knows the man well enough to know what he'd find impressive, and she's not going to ramble off the list of uncommon things about herself, hoping that one will catch his interest - that's beneath her.

As he goes on to talk about the problems of the aristocracy she shrugs and says, "Why should I be the one to try to clean up their mess? Especially if that means putting myself at the forefront of a doomed revolution? That would surely put a greater target on my back than anything else - I'd be executed for treason. This is France! This is Europe! Not some colony on the other side of the ocean - it couldn't happen here. I don't care who you think you are, you can't erase a centuries-old monarchy that easily." Just because he keeps saying that it will happen doesn't make her any more convinced that it will. It's all just empty words at this point.

"And I certainly don't need any of your help gaining whatever power I please - if I can't do it then it can't be done," she adds for good measure, smirking as she comments, "Trust me on that one - I know far more on that subject than you could possibly believe. Even if by some figment of the imagination what you're saying did happen, don't imagine for one moment that I could ever feel threatened by you." No, she doubts that he'd believe for one moment that she's spent centuries playing that game. And she's gotten good at it too - if he thinks that he could ever do anything to control her, then he's completely insane.