The Moskva Summit

Moskva, September 29th

The rain outside was typical. The weather, although mostly arid throughout the year, was unseasonably wet today. The virtue of living in a desert, is that you never have to re-tile your roof went the old saying in the countryside. Most houses in Pereslavl-Zalessky were of tile, and flat. Rain was such an unknown occurrence that architects rarely included sophisticated gutters or drainage systems in their designs, and they were seldom required anyway. It was early morning and despite the light rain, it was a pleasant enough day. It wasn't completely overcast and the clouds were fairly sparse, aside from the rain soaked puffs that hung above the presidential palace.

Walking around his room, Yuri Dolgorukiy. No, President Dolgorukiy now He thought to Himself as He finished putting on His tie, Yuri looked into the mirror at His image and wondered how He had gotten to this point. TO the highest office in the country, and now, one of the region's most aspiring new member states. However I got here, I need to figure out where the fuck we're going! He thought to Himself. His first months were mostly domestic issue oriented. Now the people wanted to know what the nation's foreign policies will be. Who are friends? Who are enemies? That was up to His administration to decide.

Finishing up His tie wrangling, Yuri walked to the antechamber on the other side of the door and called for His secretary.

" Ivanovich, call in the representative. I will meet them in the Bolshoi Room. " Yuri said, making His exit from the antechamber and heading down the hall to the largest of the three guest rooms in the palace.

The Bolshoi Room, or 'Big' Room, was adorned with gold leaf fixtures, paintings of various scenes throughout Pereslavl-Zalessky's history and tiled in exquisite marble flooring. It was ostentatious to be sure, but certainly in good taste. He hoped the guests would feel more comfortable knowing that their prospective member state was not at least entirely impoverished.

Within a few moments, the doors opened and the representatives began to trickle in...

OOC: Bump?

(OOC: I'll be posting later today.)

Abigail Hutchinson, Archduchess of Pigletville and representative of the Queen of Guslantis, in her orange Lamborghini Aventador, sped down the streets of Pereslavl-Zalessky. Her brown hair flew in the wind as she shifted gears and headed toward the address on the GPS. The Head Royal Guard, Captain Reynolds, looked in fear as Abigail accelerated her car. "Archduchess, don't you think we should slow down?", Reynolds said in fear. "Slow down? Jameson, please. This isn't even fast," she stated, adjusting her sunglasses. "Why couldn't it have been an old security car? Why a Lamborghini?", Reynolds said looking up.

Abigail zoomed through the city and suddenly, the GPS pinged the duo that they were about to arrive. "Oh, thank goodness. Abigail, you might want to slow down," he said, politely. However, Abigail did not slow down, and passed by the place of the meeting. "Um, I think we just passed it," Reynolds said, nervously. "Oh, I know," said Abigail. In one swift motion, Abigail applied the brakes, and turned the wheel, slowing down the Lamborghini and facing it toward the meeting house. The car halted as the smoke from the stopping cleared. "Ah, thank goodness we're--," began Reynolds. Abigail shifted gears again and pressed on the accelerator, gliding the Lamborghini into the front entrance of the meeting house unscratched.

"That was unnecessary,' commented Reynolds, getting out of the car, followed by Abigail. "Oh, get over yourself, I was only driving...um, never mind," she commented. "Weren't you a diplomat? Isn't driving a Lamborghini to summits a little extreme?", asked Reynolds. "Come on, chicken, we're going to be late," Abigail commented. The two walked to the house and Abigail greeted the first person to approach her. "Um, Abigail Hutchinson, representative of Leah Charles to the Moskva Summit," she said, smiling.