09-02-2019, 01:29 AM
Saturday, August 31st, 2019
Lancaster Manor
Eiria
Trista Demore awoke in the guest bedroom of the Lancaster Manor to the squawking sound of her morning alarm. Grudgingly, she rolled over and whacked the clock. Rolling over once more in the opposite side, she pushed the heavy comforter sheets off and kicked her legs over the side of the bed. Standing with a minor stumble, she wandered to the curtains and opened them to let the dim, early morning sunlight pour into the room. Time to get this thing done, she thought to herself, bending down and slipping on one of her socks.
A groan from the bed alerted her, and she turned around to see one of the security guards, a man named Thomas, struggling to wake up. God, Trista thought, we had too much to drink last night. She took her other sock in her hand and tossed it towards the half-naked man in her bed.
"Get up, Tom," she growled. Tom groaned again, grabbing the sock from off his face.
"Sorry, madam Secretary. We were up too late."
"Clarification, I was up to late. You were supposed to do your job and keep watch."
"I was definitely keeping watch, ma'am." Tom chucked.
As much as Trista hated herself at the moment, last night's little endeavor was just enough to distract her from her annoying husband back home in Kelowna.
"Keep that up and I'll have you fired," Trista snickered playfully, pulling a shirt over her head. "I'm going to shower." Tom started to get out of the bed promptly, before Trista clarified, "I'm showering by myself, Tom."
Thirty minutes later...
The team gathered in the living room of their Manor guest house, relaying plans for the mediation. As the aides poured over documents, Ambassador Polter, Secretary Demore, and the guard detail (Tom glanced often towards the secretary), a phone vibrated and beeped on the table. An aide picked it up, and within moments, the look on his face turned from boredom to shock.
"Oh my god," he said. "Madam Secretary, Mister Ambassador, there was an earthquake in Zamastan."
"Wow, was it a big one?" Polter quizzed.
"Yeah, the Tofino Times is saying that they measured it at a 7.3 Magnitude."
The room murmured. Earthquakes were extremely common in Western Zamastan. There wasn't great concern, more so there was interest.
"Well, hopefully everything is alright," Secretary Demore said. "If it was serious, I would be alerted directl-"
Before she finished her statement, Trista's phone rang inside her pantsuit pocket. A chill went down her back as she reached down and answered.
"Secretary Demore."
"Madam Secretary, this is Chief of Staff." Aya Booth, President Anya Bishop's trusted chief of staff, rarely ever directly called members of the cabinet. The president made very clear to her staff that she would always be the first to speak to them. If Bishop wasn't answering during the mediation conference, it must've been serious.
"There is an emergency back home. President Bishop advises you to continue with the mediation process and not divert from any current standings you have."
"What is goi-"
"There has been an earthquake, I'm sure you've seen it. Lots of detail, but I have to get back to work. It's registered as an 8.3 right now."
"God..." Demore looked at her staff and mouthed the number 8.3.
"I'm looking out the Gaviria Room's window right now at downtown. The towers are literally swaying, but the ground stopped shaking about ten minutes ago. There's a state of emergency in place."
"Can we do anything?" Trista asked.
"Just, stay in Eiria for now. Finish the conference. That's all. Goodbye, Trista." Booth hung up on her end of the phone.
The room fell completely quiet as the Eirian television news station showed live images from Zamastan. Smoke rose above the city of Kelowna from aerial helicopter shots, and ground angles caught the destruction of neighborhoods. Trista Demore's hometown lay in ruins.
Trista took many breaks during the rest of the day, taking time to cry and try to call her husband and little boys back home. They weren't in school because it was a Saturday, but as a mother, Trista was frightened. Tom tried to comfort her, but as the news of the earthquake continued to pour in, Trista only became more distraught. Tom broke the news to her after several meetings had taken place between diplomats.
The boys were safe. They had been in a park playing baseball when the quake struck. Trista Demore's husband, Andrew Demore, was found around midnight ZST. He had been crushed to death under the heavy concrete roof of the Demore estate.
Lancaster Manor
Eiria
Trista Demore awoke in the guest bedroom of the Lancaster Manor to the squawking sound of her morning alarm. Grudgingly, she rolled over and whacked the clock. Rolling over once more in the opposite side, she pushed the heavy comforter sheets off and kicked her legs over the side of the bed. Standing with a minor stumble, she wandered to the curtains and opened them to let the dim, early morning sunlight pour into the room. Time to get this thing done, she thought to herself, bending down and slipping on one of her socks.
A groan from the bed alerted her, and she turned around to see one of the security guards, a man named Thomas, struggling to wake up. God, Trista thought, we had too much to drink last night. She took her other sock in her hand and tossed it towards the half-naked man in her bed.
"Get up, Tom," she growled. Tom groaned again, grabbing the sock from off his face.
"Sorry, madam Secretary. We were up too late."
"Clarification, I was up to late. You were supposed to do your job and keep watch."
"I was definitely keeping watch, ma'am." Tom chucked.
As much as Trista hated herself at the moment, last night's little endeavor was just enough to distract her from her annoying husband back home in Kelowna.
"Keep that up and I'll have you fired," Trista snickered playfully, pulling a shirt over her head. "I'm going to shower." Tom started to get out of the bed promptly, before Trista clarified, "I'm showering by myself, Tom."
Thirty minutes later...
The team gathered in the living room of their Manor guest house, relaying plans for the mediation. As the aides poured over documents, Ambassador Polter, Secretary Demore, and the guard detail (Tom glanced often towards the secretary), a phone vibrated and beeped on the table. An aide picked it up, and within moments, the look on his face turned from boredom to shock.
"Oh my god," he said. "Madam Secretary, Mister Ambassador, there was an earthquake in Zamastan."
"Wow, was it a big one?" Polter quizzed.
"Yeah, the Tofino Times is saying that they measured it at a 7.3 Magnitude."
The room murmured. Earthquakes were extremely common in Western Zamastan. There wasn't great concern, more so there was interest.
"Well, hopefully everything is alright," Secretary Demore said. "If it was serious, I would be alerted directl-"
Before she finished her statement, Trista's phone rang inside her pantsuit pocket. A chill went down her back as she reached down and answered.
"Secretary Demore."
"Madam Secretary, this is Chief of Staff." Aya Booth, President Anya Bishop's trusted chief of staff, rarely ever directly called members of the cabinet. The president made very clear to her staff that she would always be the first to speak to them. If Bishop wasn't answering during the mediation conference, it must've been serious.
"There is an emergency back home. President Bishop advises you to continue with the mediation process and not divert from any current standings you have."
"What is goi-"
"There has been an earthquake, I'm sure you've seen it. Lots of detail, but I have to get back to work. It's registered as an 8.3 right now."
"God..." Demore looked at her staff and mouthed the number 8.3.
"I'm looking out the Gaviria Room's window right now at downtown. The towers are literally swaying, but the ground stopped shaking about ten minutes ago. There's a state of emergency in place."
"Can we do anything?" Trista asked.
"Just, stay in Eiria for now. Finish the conference. That's all. Goodbye, Trista." Booth hung up on her end of the phone.
The room fell completely quiet as the Eirian television news station showed live images from Zamastan. Smoke rose above the city of Kelowna from aerial helicopter shots, and ground angles caught the destruction of neighborhoods. Trista Demore's hometown lay in ruins.
Trista took many breaks during the rest of the day, taking time to cry and try to call her husband and little boys back home. They weren't in school because it was a Saturday, but as a mother, Trista was frightened. Tom tried to comfort her, but as the news of the earthquake continued to pour in, Trista only became more distraught. Tom broke the news to her after several meetings had taken place between diplomats.
The boys were safe. They had been in a park playing baseball when the quake struck. Trista Demore's husband, Andrew Demore, was found around midnight ZST. He had been crushed to death under the heavy concrete roof of the Demore estate.