"You are aware that your ritual is prone to happen in about seventy days?" General Landon looks up at Cleo through his monocle from where he is swamped with paper work on the huge circular oak desk in the center of the meeting room, sitting directly opposite Cleo, warily watching her as if she will bite his head off. She was considering it if she had to be honest. Getting called to meetings in between bouts was a certain way to piss her off.

He looks back down again to where he is methodizing the work into the separate piles, some of which Cleo has attend to and rest  were his— well most of it. From what she could also see is that her pile was the highest. Bloody brilliant. The result of hundreds of days of procrastination.

General Landon is old. His gray-white hair curls around his ears, with thick sideburns stretching down the sides of his face, which he always trims very neatly for meetings like these. Then again Landon makes sure everything is neat. The stacks of papers is so orderly fashioned that none of the papers had edges around the ends, nor did it fall over one another— it's in one equally shaped rectangular pile.

She wasn't jealous. Not at all.

The top of his head is completely bare and there were cases when Cleo had to refrain herself from the strong urge to cut some of her hair off, and place it on his head so that that part of his head didn't  have to feel naked and cold. Not that it was cold here anyway, but she felt sorry for his head either way.

His black coat is clad in multiple badges from his highly recognized achievements in this court. He is the transcendent when it came to any hustles in the palace, hence why most people in the court called for him whenever help was desired.
He has endeavored for many years in this palace, if he were to leave or perish, the court will certainly fall into a depression, she was dead sure it would. Landon was  hopeful about everything.

She liked the old man however, he understood her.

"No. No I'm not." Cleo whistles it out through clenched teeth. This was something she is not looking forward to. She doesn't know the first thing about leading. Not even a snippet.

General Landon looks up again, meeting her eyes. His sky blue eyes are now murky, from the old age, it was slowly getting to him. She has also noticed his hand started shaking whilst he was writing a  letter to the lower court a few days ago, about the foods they were serving and he accidentally tipped over the ink pot—  falling over the letter he wrote, he cursed then snapped his quill in half in the process, but never spoke about it. He despised speaking about his frustration, but he knew his time was coming. She knows he did.

Cleo drops her gaze to his lips, a bluish tint started coating it-

"It's your duty— your lifelong duty to lead. Its what will keep this Earth alive. Without anyone to lead, this world is nothing, you need to keep the legacy going, you're the last Elemental. The only one who can do it." He looks at her sternly. His eyes wide.

"What if I don't want to?" She shots back.

"This isn't a matter of you wanting to do it or not. It's protocol. This is what you're born to do. You're lucky you're the only Elemental alive, or else there would of been war for this position." He looks down again, dips his quill into ink and starts writing, before looking up again and continuing,"Life would of been a disaster if there were another Elemental Cleo this opportunity is only open to you, this is the best thing that will ever happen to you." Cleo - he used her name. Not Miss or Majesty, he said Cleo. Meaning he was grave and solemn about this matter.

Cleo presses on." What if there were another Elemental alive? Could I just chop their heads off?"

"No."

A pause.

"You cannot, thats not how it works."

Cleo decides to leave it at that. She didn't want the old man to die from anger because of her. Yet gaps remained in her knowledge about the other Elementals.

Instead she looks around the meeting room - there are guards stationed all around the room, swords in a scabbard at their backs, all clad in blue. She knows they can hear all too well about whatever happened in a meeting, if someone was curious about what happened in a meeting these guards would be the best people to speak to. She nearly laughs at the thought.

Behind the guards against the wainscoting walls — are posters. The top part of the wainscoting in- laid with art depicting the different Elementals - Fire, Wind, Earth and Water which is also ice; each submerged in their powers at the waist. But their backs were facing her so Cleo couldn't make out how each of them looked. She wondered who painted these. In her own bloody palace she didn't know who painted these. But the person sure had skill. She couldn't make out whether the Elementals were male or female either from this angle, all had long hair cascading down their backs, colours matching the Elements  itselves.
Was Fire her perhaps? Her hair is onyx however, not orchreous as shown in the poster,which confuses Cleo a bit.

She narrows her eyes to Water and Ice-  and Cleo feels a zilch of jealousy course through her at the thought of Water  coming in various forms. She couldn't allow her powers to solidify or melt the way water could, so why was this one blessed more?

The Elemental of water is submerged in water, frost dotting all around the figure and  tendrils of icy fumes from the cold, evaporates out of the body looking very potent and cold, matching the effects from the Demon Tower. Cold and dead and evil.

She wondered how each of them died; she didn't dare ask General Landon, not when his quill was close to snapping in half again.

"What happened to the Demon Tower?" She croaks snapping her attention away from the Elementals to look behind him to where the double glass doors were widely open, bringing in the warm dry breeze from outside, overlooking the adobe, terracotta-coloured Villages which she could see from here was bustling with activity. There are also two stationary guards placed on the veranda overlooking the City in means to guard any intruders from entering Court grounds. She almost set them aflame on the spot for being in her line of vision of watching a butterfly.

"The Demon Tower?" He looks up at her with a frown coating his lips. "That Tower is long dead Miss." Oh so it's Miss now?

"What happened to it?" She meets his eyes, making sure to add fire in her orbs.

He swallows, "That is unknown Miss; the only fact that remains certain is that The Demon Tower is dead. The Tower has no sign of life, seas are scorched and dry. All the demons are diminished, the Tower lies empty." He holds her gaze, and stammers out again,
"Why do you want to know Miss?"

"I felt like burning someone alive, but since that is highly inappropriate in this Court, I'd rather kill  a demon, who unfortunately seem to be dead already." She lifts her feet, and crosses them at the ankles —on the table. Barefoot.

He says nothing, continues writing. But she could see how ashen his face became at her remark.

Cleo sighs, rolls her eyes and asks,"What do I need for this Ceremony Landon?"

"You will need various training Miss all from highly trained Sirs and Mistresses, some arrangements will be made by me, others by Madams' who will be doing the uh... Feminine acts for you. But that is not to fret, we have plenty time for that." He grins, showing his teeth.

Cleo nods her head. Definitely not something she was looking forward to. Feminine acts sounded like The Demon Tower itself. She would need more mental preparation for this than anything else.

With silence taking over the room, except the sound from Landon's quill. Cleo asks herself whether she was done with this short meeting.

"Am I finished with this meeting? It's getting tedious."

Landon looks up quickly looking out of place, his palms going to his rib cage. She didn't know for what. "Uh... Well yes-"

"Good." She gets up, heads towards the oak doors and motions the guards to open it.

"Wait! Miss, your letters and paperwork? There have been several complaints from the Villagers-"

She turns around and groans, "Can't you do it? I'm rather busy."

"Unfortunately I cannot Miss, these are for your eyes only, they're all directed to you." He holds out the pile of papers for her to take.

"Hmm, I understand."

He looks relieved.

"But no thank you."

She turns and leaves and is gone within seconds, leaving a whiff of smoke behind.

                                                            °°°

Cleo reaches her bed chambers, demanding her pants and shirt from her maid that was lurking in the hallway waiting for her. She viciously closes her door, and takes in her pleasant sweltering room —neatly cleaned and dusted.

Her huge  room is painted peach, the ceiling a deep scarlet— making her think of blood — she loved it. Against the left wall sat her bed, piled high with maroon and rust-coloured velvet and silk cushions and bedding. Right in front of her is the glass balcony, the rails encrusted with jewels varying in colour which she loves roaming her fingers over; and which also exhibits the front gardens filled with desert roses, salvias and other heat resistant succulents darting all around the garden, some nestling against trees as if it will protect them. There is also a huge range  of flowers, getting watered regularly as to adapt to the harsh hot weather of the Fire Court which Cleo urges to be done. She loves colour. And seeing them dotting her gardens is an even more spectacular sight.

The right of the room leads directly to the circular  bathroom. She struts to there, and makes her way to the lengthy mirror flaunting her entire length at the back of the room. In the center of the room  is a brass clawfoot tub which she is suddenly desiring to soak in, inlaid with all the various oils and herbs her maids add that makes her feel pacified and hot. All around the room are stairs leading down to the bath in the middle, the staircases filled with  jasmine scented soaps, sweet spices, smooth oils and the whole area is bedecked in flowers, ranging from chrysanthemums to orchids to daffodils and geraniums and also roses. She just loves the pleasing smells  being omitted, the dim lighting and steamy room enhanced the pleasures in the room whenever  she bathed.

She takes a deep breath she didn't realize she was holding in and blows it out. From atop the steps in front of the mirror, she takes in her attire. She looks like shit.

Her long pin-straight black hair is loose and  falls right onto her bottom. Her bangs falls right above her sea-green eyes, usually making her eyes stand out more extravagantly but not now — her eyes are dull, lifeless matching her  current caprice.

She rubs her hands down the sides of her  black silk dress, the dress wound tightly around her waist and plunging v-neck neckline before  it plummets to the floor in a small loose skirt, a slit starting from her right hip bone and darting  down to the floor.

Her feet are bare. She loves it this way, at many events and ceremonies she would abandon her shoes in a hallway and  attend the rest of the event without an ounce of care  for them.  At times never finding them again,  Landon has already scolded her for the high costs of purchasing them from the Jewel And Fabric market specially designed for the event but she simply flipped him off.

She gazes at her cleavage, she has small breasts, not much but better than nothing. She washes her face,  and applies a black kohl lining her eyes and decides to leave her hair as it is. It's tameable. She walks back to her room and eyes the maid idling from where she stands at the bed gazing at the dead inglenook beside the double doors that led to the balcony. She nearly snapped at the maid to ask what she was looking at, the thing is dead; but from her quivering figure Cleo decided not to, she seemed scared. If she were to say anything the poor lamb might wet her pants. She didn't want that on her mosiac tiles.

Instead she goes directly to her bed and starts removing her dress, the servant immediately coming to her aid. She unbouttons the dress from behind and Cleo nearly flames  the maid as her  icy cold fingers burns her as they are  brushing her back as she moves to the next button. Cleo is sure her eyes turned to fire.

"Why the fuck are your hands so cold?!" Cleo growls out. Immediately shimmying out of the maids grasp.

The maids brown eyes are wide with fear. She clasps her hands together and rubs it over the gray servant dress to get some heat from the friction. Cleo eyes her up, her skin was very pale, which is absurd since this court has nothing but sunlight most days. The dress sits a bit loose on her lithe figure too, doesn't seem like she eats correctly and her dark brown braid falls onto her jutting collarbone. She barely has meat on her being.

"I am so so sorry Miss, I-I... Don't know why Miss. It's been cold all day." She stutters and looks down. Making herself look small, obviously feeling intimidated being in the presence of the Elemental herself whom has also just cursed at her and Cleo was sure her eyes were still blazing fire. Cleo would feel the same. She suddenly pities the girl and Cleo is never such a person to pity others, most certainly not a maid.

"Are you alright?" Cleo asks softly. The last thing she wanted was for a new sickness to take over the Court and why she made sure all the staff received good medical care from the Healers in the Rose Compartment.

"Y-yes M-miss thank you." She still looks down.

"You are dismissed I will dress myself. And will only return later tonight." Cleo quickly shooes her away.

The little lamb scurries away and Cleo gazes at her as she very gently  closes the door.

Cleo removes her dress, and drops it onto the floor - pulling on her tight black leather pants and black shirt, pulling up the hood of the shirt. She usually hunts in this outfit, she wouldn't call what she will do now hunting, but something of the sort. There are various clasps and buckles on the shirt which she makes sure is tightly closed as she wouldn't want her identity to be known and the hood falls down and then she's exposed - like a  rich trophy in the Art Library located in the Lower Court.

Well now it's time she leaves. She leaves her balcony doors open as to show to others, especially General Landon that she is here and no one will dare enter her chambers.

She struts to the doors after pulling on her dark leather boots and opens it before she notices the high pile of work awaiting her. Fuck you Landon. The maid must of brought it in whilst she was in the bathroom. She was debating whether to burn it in the furnace, but it wasn't flamed up and she will not light it up now.

She sighs, eliminating the thought, she needs to do her part. She opens the door and makes her leave. The only thing she was contemplating.