16594/Dining with DOOM!

Dining with DOOM!
Date of Scene:	16 December 2023
Location:	Latveria - Doomstadt - Castle Doom
Synopsis:	Following dinner in Castle Doom, Victorious and Doom sit for a portrait while discussing matters of State security and art.
Cast of Characters:	Victor Von Doom, Zora Vukovic

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Victor Von Doom has posed:
The Herald of Doom has many opinions regarding the West and more specifically New York City. Doctor Doom marches along the catwalk while listening to Victorious without interruption and the glance aside toward her affords her the sight of Doom's small smile visible through the narrow slot of his mask. Doom does not interrupt while she elaborates on her points of view regarding the city, the country, or its leader.

Only when Victorious has stated her case for the glory that is Latveria does Doctor Doom's arm extend to the side. Atop her cloak his gauntlet presses while the palm of it can be felt at the middle of her back. It isn't a lascivious gesture, but one that is shared between comrades and those in pursuit of like ideals. Together and side by side, Doom's voice is delivered richly and powerfully to his right hand, "Expertly you have summed up why Latveria and Doom MUST succeed. The world NEEDS Doom!" Within that usage of Doom it isn't simply speaking of the man. No, that resolute and powerful declaration caters to the whole. All that embodies Doom would be the salvation of the world. The Doctor himself, Latveria, its people, its technology, its social programs, its cultural impacts, and all of it would be achieved in due time. Then they would truly be Victorious.

The gauntlet at her back serves a purpose. As do all of Doom's actions. The next sound that accompanies their side by side steps changes from the metallic clank of the catwalk to the more blunted, solid sound of stone. Suddenly and with the dizzying sensation of teleportation, Doctor Victor Von DOOM and Victorious emerge upon one of the parapets of Castle Doom overlooking Doomstadt. The bitter chill of a Latverian winter - atop a mount no less - hits the pair hard. Doctor Doom does not seem to be at all bothered by that sudden shift from the temperature controlled basement in New York City to the freezing temperatures of Eastern Europe (or Eastern Doomurope). It isn't until he's stepped to the battlements to overlook their mutual home that Doom begins to speak, his voice practically resonating upon the cold air, "That is why you are the Herald of Doom, because your loyalty to land and people will *never* waver. Others will become covetous of power and authority, while you will strive to defend the *stability* of all that we achieve. That is why I bring you here now," Doom remarks while his gaze remains fixed to the lands stretching out below.

Tearing his gaze from Doomstadt below while a gauntlet rises up to rest upon the flat surface of a merlon atop the crenellation. Doom's gaze falls upon his Right Hand once more as he remarks with obvious good cheer, "You deserve to see your home. You have been mired in the United States for some time. While your work there is not done, Doom rewards those who toil alongside him for Latveria. My gift to you: a night at home, to reward your loyal service."

Zora Vukovic has posed:
Following in Doom's footsteps (okay, WITH his footsteps), Zora catches sight of the small smile with a glance but doesn't remark on it. Her own severe expression softens slightly at the sight of it, however, as ever pleased to see him enjoying something. She wants to smile back at him, share in the moment, but he tends to discourage such... softness. So instead she will simply bask in his enjoyment.

The weight of his hand at her back isn't missed, she can feel it pressing through the cloak, even through her own armor and clothing, as keenly as if none of it were there in the first place. "You are absolutely correct, my liege. And you will succeed. Your victory, your vision, is foregone. It is only a matter of time before it all comes to fruition, and the world will know the love of Doom as Latveria already does." Her voice is low, but fervent. Zora's faith in, and loyalty to, Doom and Latveria is unwavering and absolute.

The sudden change in venue doesn't give her even a moment's pause. Having served at Doom's side for five years, she's become accustomed to his teleportations, she learned quickly to simply stay in step with him and all will be well. It's when someone's trust wavers and they hesitate that 'accidents' occur. Zora never hesitates. The shift from metal to stone, from warm to cold, doesn't phase her in the least. She simply continues to walk with him along the battlements of their home. Glancing aside to Doom, she nods, "There is nothing more important than the safety and wellbeing of Latveria, save for your vision to bring the glory of Latveria to the rest of this ungrateful and undeserving world. Your magnanimity never ceases to amaze me, my lord."

Her eyes stay on Doomstadt for a moment longer, eyes tracing the skyline of the city, her city. Then she turns, facing Doom with both brows lifting, a warring of emotions on her face. There is the gratitude, of course, the respect for him, but also the concern that if she is here... who will be at his side, ensuring his will is carried out? To Doom, it's all clear as day there on those patrician features.

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Doom continues to stare out over Doomstadt in the twilight hours. The sun below the horizon and the chill of winter setting it. Their time upon the battlements is sure to be short-lived. When the magnificence of Doom turns his attention back to Zora, it's with eyes that wander what portions of her face are visible from beneath her half-helm. Maybe it's some form of telepathy. Maybe it's simply the fact that the ruler of Latveria knows his Herald so very well. He speaks anew, his voice still rich and regal, yet possessing a touch of reassurance as his arm lifts and he gestures toward the view of Doomstadt and the country beyond, "Fear not, Doom will not abandon you! We will return to the United States tomorrow."

It is then that Doom's attention turns away and his gauntlet wrapped hand withdraws back to his side. He does not speak on the compliments or flattery that Zora lavishes upon him, because to acknowledge it is to label it as something which isn't a fact of existence. Doom should be praised, always.

Again his cloak billows and flutters behind him as the wind takes it. Beside Victorious, Doom seems capable of weathering the crisp Latverian winter air as he doesn't seem prepared to retreat indoors any time soon. Even while he speaks his breath steams from within his mask, he does not turn away from the view, "Zora," he speaks the name solemnly, "speak freely. Your thoughts will be heard by DOOM". The permission is given and now, beyond the most egregious of trespasses, they may speak as companions. For now the curtain of leader and faithful follower is pulled aside. Now they may speak as the closest thing to companions or friendship that Doctor Doom is known to permit.

Zora Vukovic has posed:
While Doom watches the city, she watches Doom. Those blue eyes looking upon him with intensity, but also with care. Latveria is her home, but Doom is her world. He is her liege, her savior, her friend. The love she has for Doom is rivaled only by her love for Latveria itself. Not that Zora is going to attempt seduction of any sort. Doom will choose his own mate, and whomever he chooses will be the best, because he will accept nothing less. Her love is the steadfast and enduring type, her belief in and respect for him coalesced into something more.

When he allays her one concern, she finally relents enough to smile. Faintly, softly, but on that fierce visage, to Doom, she might as well be grinning like a loon. "Thank you, my liege. I know that you can more than care for yourself... but I worry that if I am not there, who will carry out your wishes to the level of excellence you demand." Because as far as Victorious is concerned, none are worthy of Doom. She can trust no one to enact his orders as she can.

Her own cloak tugs and pulls in the wind, the direction of it pulling it to one side, wrapping around her shoulder and back and flapping towards the castle. If the cold bothers her, she gives no sign, regardless of the breath that steams out from between her lips when she speaks, or her nostrils when silent. Hearing her name on his lips is a rare treasure that she savors for a long moment before giving a nod. "My lord... Victor.. I am pleased beyond measure at your esteem. That you deem me worthy of it." Pausing, not from hesitation, but from consideration, she finally speaks. "I would most humbly request the honor of taking a meal with you. Perhaps we could discuss how to promote Latveria and its people in a way that will appeal to the uneducated Western masses. Or.. perhaps we could discuss music. Art?"

Victor Von Doom has posed:
"There are none more worthy of such a gracious allowance from Doom than you, Victorious!" Doctor Doom answers powerfully but formally. He has only just extended an immense compliment and favor upon his most treasured knight. "Then you will join with Doom tonight and we will indulge our creative sides," he announces as he turns about with a flourish and a cape that springs out behind him before it falls again to his back. Victor formally lefts his left arm, offering it to the knight at his side. A nobleman at heart, it's only right that he elect to escort his guest and most devout servant. Beyond that offered arm there is no other touch offered.

When he does begin to move it is with measured, solemn steps as he moves across the battlement toward the castle proper and the guarded doorway that will permit the pair into Castle Doom's main hall. That door is guarded by a pair of Servo-Guards and an organ, human, soldier to oversee them. The truth in Latveria is that the organic members of the Armed Forces are little more than a propaganda tool to showcase Victor's love and appreciation for his people.

In truth those two Servo-Guards were more likely overseeing the soldier that has been instructed to oversee them.

The imposing castle doors swing open without a sound. Likely some proximity signal or even a manual signal built into Von Doom's armor. The arched double doors open at the center. While they appear to be of ornately carved wood; the truth is that they possessed a sheet of adamantium hugged by the decorative wood on each side.

From somewhere the regal sound of a trumpet announces the return of Doctor Victor Von Doom to his palace. No doubt his sudden return with the famed Herald of Doom at his side and eventually quite literally upon his arm will send the gossips in Latveria prattling on for weeks to come.

The world around them may not be forgotten, but the existence of it seems irrelevant at the moment. For now Doom has his guest and his guest has his attention as they walk. While his gaze may remain directed ahead as they walk solemnly but purposefully into the grand hall, his attention is quite clearly settled onto conversations with his companion, "You spoke of promoting Latverian ideals abroad," he begins without even glancing to his side, "enlighten me to your thoughts, Zora."

Together as they walk the sound of their steps noticeably echo throughout the great hall. It is empty save for quite a few Servo-Guards nestled away within the shadows of pillars and other strategic positions. Not an organic in sight. At least for now.

Zora Vukovic has posed:
Unable to keep the delight from her expression (at least for the first few beats), Zora gives a warm smile towards Doom, "You honor me, my lord, as you have each day since we met." Lifting her hands, she places it atop his arm, matching his formality with an incline of her head. Not something she was raised with, nor something that was expected of her as his Herald, the noble mannerisms and affectations were something she chose to pick up on her own.

In turning, even her cape moves in symphony with his own, swirling around behind her as they move with those slow, measured steps. Not by word or glance does she give away the thrill of accompanying his greatness into the castle, escorted as a treasured guest rather than trailing him as a trusted minion. Her gaze does trail to the Servo-Guards and their human 'overseer', resting longer on the organic of the trio, the intensity in that look promising direct retribution if tales are carried of Lord Doom and his Herald.

Stepping through the doors with that stately manner, Zora appreciates the quality of craftsmanship throughout the castle. Not just the security (though yes, obviously, the security), but also the actual Latverian craftsmanship that goes into every aspect of the castle's opulence.

Bringing her eyes forward once more as the trumpet sounds, she glances to Doom and murmurs, "Security will say nothing, but I cannot vouch for all the staff.. gossip is rampant regarding the Great Lord Doom. I can have a detachment sent out to quell any rumors before the dinner begins..." Because his reputation is paramount. She won't have speculation and rumor roaming the country that could damage his image amongst the people.

Without pause, she moves smoothly into the promised conversation, giving a nod to his statement. "The children. I believe the children are key. They are younger, more malleable, easier to teach and mold. The Western world seems dependent on television and movies to raise their children for them. If we can reach the children, we can set up the future while we deal with the present. If they will not raise their children properly, then we will, with good Latverian ideals and morals."

Daring a glance up towards his mask, Zora offers a faint uptick of one corner of her mouth, "Buy a production company or two, begin inserting Latverian customs and mannerisms into existing shows.. then slowly replace them with Latverian performers, storylines... their children will be wanting Latveria before they even know it."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
"Everyday is an honor in the presence of Doom," Victor offers back at his Herald with a tone of mild amusement and gentle guidance. Though he does temper that reminder with a little praise for one of his closer confidantes, "You've earned it every step of the way. For you are Victorious and Latveria deserves nothing less than the best!"

The pair continue their way through the great hall of Castle Doom. The various Servo-Guards seem to briefly track the pair, confirm their identities, and then revert back to their sentry protocols. Their voices travel up, around, and throughout the hall. Echoing back upon themselves in what is effectively a mausoleum's silence, albeit in soft, almost ghostly whispers. "The staff know their duties and I have no qualms of their knowing. The Herald of Doom took a meal and a moment of respite with the people's leader. Should the people learn of it, so be it. It will be a boon to their worrisome minds and to know that even they can be expected to rest from time to time".

Then it's into silence that the masked and cowled Doom ventures. He listens to the ideas presented by Zora and nods along, his helmet and mask shifting with the motion. There is a thoughtful sound that seems to resonate from within his mask and by the time it is expelled, words accompany it, "Your idea is one of great merit, Zora. You are correct. The children are the future, after all. If we truly wish to see the world changed to a vision of Doom? Then it must begin with the future generations. The current are already lost."

He pauses in his steps finally and shifts, his cloak swishing out and aside with the speed of the movement. Despite that speed it is not an aggressive act, but instead one that seems to illustrate the premium on time translated into motion. He considers Zora and her face that is visible from beneath her helmet as his mask tilts downward so that he may look his Herald in the eye. His silence is finally broken when he adds his own thoughts to the Victorious ideas, "These programs must have catchy phrases, too. The Westerners will stumble over themselves for a new 'Who Shot J.R.?', 'Where's the beef?', 'Harlem Shake', or 'Gangnam Style'. Television and film may be a strong means of pushing our ideals to the front and into the minds of their children, but let us not forget the incalculable value of their social media platforms, too."

All of this is said with the building strength of conviction in voice that every great plan with noble aspirations tends to have. A voice that echoes triumphantly throughout the great expanse of Castle Doom's interior, only further reinforcing the grandeur of its speaker.

Victor Von Doom has posed:
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... LATER THAT NIGHT IN A PRIVATE STUDY WITHIN CASTLE DOOM ...

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Victor Von Doom has posed:
The dinner shared between Doom and Victorious had gone exceptionally well. Which wasn't a surprise to anyone, when it came to Doctor Doom hosting an event for a cherished or valued guest. All things Doom undertakes go exceptionally well! Throughout the meal casual conversations were had and altogether the activity was a pleasant one. It's after the evening's meal that the pair retire to one of Doom's studies in pursuit of artistic interests and deeper conversation.

Deep in the heart of Castle Doom resides one of the few private studies of Doctor Victor von Doom! The scent of old parchment mingles with the smell of woodsmoke. The crackle of the fireplace merges with that of a live string quintet playing Brahms's number one, 88th opus that has been tucked away within a corner of the impressively sized chamber. The vaulted ceilings only serve to expand upon the sound of the viola quintet. Tonight it is not Doom that serenades the castle halls with his music, but humble, honest artists of Latveria itself that regale their celebrated leader and his Herald with their talents.

Refreshments are on hand to sustain Doctor Doom and his Herald, Victorious, while they occupy the center of the chamber. The help - and the musicians of course - would be refreshed in the servant quarters. For tonight is about Doom and his Herald!

The center of the chamber finds Victorious not in her officially sanctioned battle armor of State business, but in something far more elegant. Lord Doom stands behind the majestic high-backed chair which she occupies and one gauntlet of his power armor has been laid to rest upon the shoulder of his Herald. There Doctor Victor von Doom stands tall and prominently behind Victorious, where she remains seated. No doubt intended to convey even greater height to Doctor Doom himself for the artist seated behind her easel, working diligently to paint the presence of the sanctified ruler of Latveria and his Herald for their portrait to commemorate an otherwise lovely evening.

It is during their maintaining the pose that they find ample time to speak quietly among themselves, basking in the warmth of the Study of Doom and the sweet sounds of the live music amidst the soft crackle of the fireplace, "Doom has received intelligence that suggests in the coming weeks there may be an incursion at our border."

There is likely more to come, but for now Doom speaks only that morsel of information. Perhaps to see how his Herald may respond.

Zora Vukovic has posed:
When she had suggested they spend a quiet evening, she had anticipated discussing art or music, not having herself *become* the art. But neither is she about to balk over being given an elegant gown and sitting for a portrait. Few Latverians get to see her like this, hair down and out of its practical braid, wearing a gown, looking... elegant and refined. She is the Hero of Latveria, after all. She has always appeared in public in full regalia as the Herald of Doom, Victorious, the better to inspire her people.

Tonight, however, she sits upright, hands demurely in her lap, legs held at an angle from the knee down that she can cross her ankles like a proper lady. Looking straight ahead with only the faintest of smiles etched across her lips in a moment of Mona Lisa-esque inspiration. And, of course, quietly conversing with her host for the evening.

"I have received reports of similar rumors. Some whisper of Symkarian spies and terrorists. Other whispers suggest it will be an infiltration of Westerners, attempting to find 'proof' that Latveria is not as prosperous and advanced as it claims. Despite the open borders, they still insist on sending spies and infiltrators.. as if we are not utterly open about Latveria's superior socio-economic standing, educational excellence, and artistic accomplishments. To say nothing of the scientific advancements that are founded by Latverian scientists and researchers." She lets out a soft snort through her nose and continues, "I have doubled the patrols on our borders, alerted the counter-intelligence departments, and have squads ready for deployment should anyone be ignorant enough to bring violence to our borders. Non-combatants will be taken as political 'guests' of Latveria until you have chosen what you wish to do with them."

There is a reason that she is his Herald, seeing to the preparation of repelling combatants and detaining infiltrators without ever having to bother Doom himself with such petty details. Spoken only as assurance of Latveria's readiness to deal with such a possible incursion.

"I have also reach out to our media consultants amongst the various tv and radio stations, both within and without the country, and they are already preparing a public statement that can be made once the incursion itself is dealt with. It is being kept vague for the moment, with details to be filled in once we have dealt with the issue." There's the briefest upward glance towards Doom himself before she returns her gaze straight ahead, "And I, of course, will be on hand in the case of metahuman incursion or attack on our country or its people."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
In silence Doom stands. He stares upon the artist that works diligently to capture the very essence and soul of Victorious and Doctor Doom, though his ear is obviously occupied by the answer of his Herald. If an expression decorates the face of the good Doctor, it is hidden away beneath the implacable Mask of Doom. As the music flows around them and the painter works, the conversation continues unimpeded between Doom and Victorious, "Your preparations are commendable, as Doom would expect of the Victorious".

The praise is given - not offered, but given - and the gauntlet that rests upon the shoulder of Zora presents her with an easy squeeze. Not intended to draw pain, nor is it intended to be romantic in nature. It is assurance and confidence, it is the acknowledgment of talent. Despite his praise though, Doom soon continues on as his words carry upon the back of Zora's own, "Metahuman or not, it is the will of Doom that you are there. Bring about their Doom. Those who surrender will be given quarter. Make an example of those who defy the mercy of Doom."

As Doom goes silent a butler approaches bearing a tray. A glass is presented to Zora as he butler bows his head low, averting his eyes from the glory of Doctor Doom and his Herald.

"Journalists of Doom's choosing will be selected and readied for your return. When you've emerged Victorious, you will return to Doomstadt to report your success to Doom. The moment will be captured for the cameras and circulated as our global reach will allow," Doom continues, clearly laying out the theatrics as they shall unfold should such an incursion arrive. There's likely far more involved in the play than Doom has revealed thus far.

Zora Vukovic has posed:
"It will be as you wish, my Lord Doom," Victorious intones her agreement without hesitation, and with the confidence and assuredness of someone who believes wholeheartedly in what they say. She doesn't waver from the pose taken up for the portrait but for a slight uptic of that faint smile when her shoulder is squeezed. She knows well what it signifies, and doesn't read into the gesture any further than its intent.

There is a brief pause and then a suggestion, "I would suggest a single addition, my King. Any that surrender and are held, allow the soldiers to be shown bringing them in. Let the journalists and media show Latverian soldiers bringing captured combatants in for their due process. It will show the world that we do not simply smite our enemies in overt displays of force, but that we utilize our military in appropriate fashion when our borders are breached by unwelcome threats." Zora accepts the glass from the tray without taking her eyes from the artist behind the easel. Sipping lightly from the glass, it's replaced onto the tray before her hand resumes its rest on her lap.

"And of course, any 'special' guests that are captured, I will personally escort. Let the Latverian people see their protector at her job." The Herald certainly seems to have an eye towards the PR aspect of her position, ensuring that she is seen being the 'hero of Latveria' (even if she refuses to term herself as such), but also that the people see their military at work and doing their part. Let the people take pride in the competence of their hero and army both.

She's well aware there's more to what is being set up than what Doom is saying, presuming that the rest will be shared if and when he feels she needs to know. Or perhaps simply when the servants and Latverian artists/musicians have vacated the space. There are still things that one doesn't speak of in front of the people, after all. Things they don't need to know.

Victor Von Doom has posed:
"Hm," arrives the thoughtful sound of Doom's contemplations. He nods once, resolutely, in answer to Zora's addition to his instructions, "Your proposal has been considered by Doom. It is approved". The mask continues to stare implacably toward the artist and only the most subtle of squints may be witnessed. Without the rest of his face to convey emotion, the squint does little more than allow for a more stern countenance to be put on display. Of any and all peoples of the Earth and perhaps beyond, it is only DOOM who could convey a bevy of emotion from behind a mask!

"Journalists will be assigned to the streets as well to chronicle the moment those prisoners are ushered to Doom. Those who surrender are to be treated well, given quarter, and essentials under humanitarian law," Victor von Doom echoes with a stern nod. The cowl of his cloak shifts with the gesture and finally his free arm lowers, permitting the cape which has been draped across his forearm to drop away and the green fabric to fall to its natural, gravity-affected state.

The butler lifts his head upon Zora's glass being returned to the tray. He turns with elegant precision and begins to march away anew.

Once more Doom and Zora are left in their own relatively private circle while the musicians continue along with Brahms's No. 1, Op. 88. "Now, onto other matters. Tonight is intended for our relaxation. Let us move away from matters of my kingdom," Victor quietly remarks with the benevolence indicative of Doom hosting a guest, "what is your opinion of the music, Zora? What do you favor within it? What would you have changed were you the composer?"

Such specific questions are surely a test. Whether there are clearly defined answers or not, only Doom knows.

Zora Vukovic has posed:
Inclining her head ever so slightly, Zora murmurs, "Thank you, Lord Doom." She knows that it's an honor to be so considered, and won't belabor the point for servants that should know better than to hear any of the conversation occurring between them. That would only indicate that what's being said is something other than the status quo. The subtle gestures, expressions, and glances shared between the pair are more than enough to speak volumes... to those that are privy to such intimacies.

"Excellent, my King. I will ensure the soldiers know to treat any such guests with care and consideration, as political guests of Latveria and it's monarch." Meaning, of course, they will be treated with deference and care, but still watched like hawks and will have 'guards' assigned to them for their 'personal safety'. Certainly not to watch over them and listen in on any conversations.

Shifting gears as Doom mentions the music, Zora lets her gaze go unfocused for a few moments, letting the music wash over her so she can get a feel for it. "Mmm, it is, of course, an excellent example of Brahms work, though perhaps not his best." Her eyes refocus on the artist at their work, offering her quiet critique of the classical music, "Our musicians are beyond compare, certainly, but the song itself seems somewhat.. disjointed. The first movement, the allegro non troppo ma con brio.. it seems to be two discordant songs being forced together. It leads to unnecessarily strident violins with crescendos that are jolting rather than a swelling of evocative sound. I feel as though he would have been better served had he softened the violins by perhaps a full measure, allowing the music to build more before letting crescendos carry it over into the second movement."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
The matters of business, security of the kingdom, and the planning involved in it all is given a final nod. Words have been had and it seems that the ruler of Latveria, Doctor Doom, has decided that the subject has been given all due attention. For now. He moves on from the subject with the ease of a ruler who is accustomed to speaking only as long as he must upon a subject, before moving onto other matters of importance! As a result Doom continues to watch the artist at work, though it seems that the final touches are beginning to be dabs and stroked across the canvas. While Doctor Doom and Victorious remain still for their portrait, the conversation regarding the music being played continues on.

"Keen observations, though Doom is unsurprised," Victor answers with stern regard. Not for Zora, but for the painter. The artist stands and soon the Latverian woman begins to shift the easel, turning it that she may display her work for both Doom and his Herald to view the final work. Despite the building suspense as the easel is carefully turned, the conversation regarding the music itself does not halt, "The discordant notes are of interest to Doom. A reminder to all that without tight control of our world, the unsavory elements will always strive to force themselves upon the good. Draw our eyes to Latveria; a goodly nation of goodly people, often thought prey by those who would bring discord to an otherwise peaceful existence."

The music finally begins to draw to a close, even as the easel is turned and the canvas presented. Victorious seated upon a small boulder in her standard regalia often worn in the execution of her duties as the Herald of Doom. She looks toward the horizon on the beautiful spring day, judging by the verdant green of the land visible behind her. The painted Zora's chin turned toward Mount Victorum and its snowy peak that may give some weight to the ideal that the painting is intended to evoke an early spring. Behind the boulder-seated Victorious stands Doctor Victor von Doom, the sovereign ruler and enforced monarch of Latveria. A gauntlet of his powered armor rests upon the left shoulder of Victorious and, unlike her, his masked face stares directly at the viewer of the painting. In fact as one may move, sway, or turn their head it seems that the painted Doom's eyes follow the viewer.

A nod of approval is offered toward the artist, before the question that follows is spoken with strength and vigor, especially now that the music has drawn to a close, "What is your opinion of the final work, Victorious? Doom desires to know."

Zora Vukovic has posed:
"That is a perspective I had not considered, but in that respect, the discordant notes make more sense as they fold into the other movements, lessening as the music turns away from conflict and towards resolution, until it ends with the joy of peace and prosperity in the notes." Zora considers how the more abrupt and jolting first movement compares to the second movement with it's lessened discordancy but larger crescendoes and swells, to a softer third movement, and finally into the joyful tune of the final movement. She gives a subtle nod, "Viewing it from that angle, I would have to agree that the notes have their place within the music, providing the conflict and clash that leads to the eventual victory and peace."

But it would seem the artist has finished their rendering of the pair and is offering it up for inspection. Victorious studies the portrait carefully, brows knitting together as she looks over the poses, the strokes, the evocative sense of it.

Glancing up towards Doom at his question, she looks back to the painting, lips pursing up slightly, "I know that interpretation will be in each viewer... but I am uncertain if I am fond of my likeness looking off towards the mountains. It feels as if I am turned away from the people, from you. People see my back and profile often enough in reality, in my duties protecting our country and its people. In this, I think I would have preferred to face the people, to let them see me, watching over them."

She glances back up to Doom and offers, "But that is merely my own perspective, my lord. If it pleases you, then it is more than sufficient for me." Because in the end, regardless of her feelings, Doom's opinion is the one that matters most. The evening draws to a close in that manner, with the pair quietly discussing the finished portrait and it's points and flaws.