<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/474x/67/8a/78/678a78a8303dbe937bacc38e1ed4e184.jpg)</div><br/>There was something to be said for enjoying the fruits of ones labor. Lounging in the Captain's chair of his flagship as it rounded a gorgeous binary star was something he would happily indulge in. There was much to enjoyed really in his position. Yamato was the Crwon Prince of the Mishima Empire. An Empire founded on the merits of the geniuses who had led it into this age. Multiple children were born in each generation and they were made to compete. The firstborn was not the de-facto heir to the throne. Battles and competition was cutthroat from a young age and the first born of his father had died engineering a device to help defeat Yamato. Now he was the prince after proving to his twenty nine siblings, of which he was the seventh born, that he was the superior brother. His ship, his technology, his intellect, and his charisma drew many to his banner and made the Empire willing to accept their new Emperor when the time came for his father to step down.<br/><br/>Except he was now standing in a small room rather than a spacious bridge. His magitech was gone leaving him with just the clothes he had on him. No weapons, no armor, and only what he had on himself. A clever ruse by a vengeful sibling or an assassin? Perhaps so. Impossible to tell really. The kitsune smiled at the woman seated before him. It was obvious she was the one who had brought him here and at least she was easy on the eyes. She called him a fox and he fought the urge to correct her. The Kitsune were a proud race of foxes, surely, but they were so much more than that. Still, he crossed his arms behind his back as she addressed him. And he was addressed by a voice in his head. How troublesome.<br/><br/>"I'm afraid such menial task are beneath me," he said with a frown "but seeing as you appear to be a woman of some class and presence I shall overlook this."<br/><br/>Yamato kept his smile as he stepped forward.<br/><br/><em>I don't make a habit of dealing with those who do not show their face,</em>he said mentally to whomever was communicating with him.<br/><br/>The crude way it spoke of these goddesses irritated him. It wasn't that the offer of making them slaves to his will was unappealing, she was a beautiful woman, but he was a prince. Fear is a powerful motivator but it will break. Those who come willingly, who choose to follow, are much more useful and much more loyal. He'd seen others make deals to get ahead. He had made deals to get ahead of his siblings. But he wasn't going to deal with someone who revealed nothing of themselves. Persuasive as they might be he had had a target on his back nearly from birth. He would not blindly trust in the words of some disembodied divinity.<br/><br/>"However, perhaps there is a way we could both come to know one another," he said with a glint of desire in his eyes as he moved to kneel before her so they were at eye level with one another "perhaps you would be better served learning some of my more intimate talents firsthand so I can prove myself as more than a simple mortal whom you have summoned."<br/><br/>Play to her seeming ego, offer himself, and then he could use his knowledge and skills into a situation wherein her desire for him outweighed her apparent contempt. Persuade her body and then her mind. It was a strangely underused tactic but one he could effective if the mind wasn't screaming against the attack. Honestly, if he'd learned nothing else from his twenty eight brothers and sisters attempting to assert themselves as the prince he'd learned that sometimes the best thing to do was give someone enough rope to hang themselves. And he believed if she slept with him she would be addicted easily. Haughty women, be they goddesses or mortals, could be easily twisted and brought to heel of their own volition.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>[CHA+CHA][1d12 + 1d12] for Consensual Encounter Result: 7 + 3 = 10.