NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Don't bother posting as someone arriving, or anything like that... just work yourself in. Security will confiscate most weapons, though.

IC: Malissa looked at the mirror, her eyes examining her costume. This was a good idea... she thought, looking down at the form-fitting dress. With an easy movement, she placed the masque on, smiling. "Now, no one will recognise me..."

A white rabbit looked out from the mirror. Inside the masque, Malissa smiled. "Kaiserin Malissa Black of the Divine Imperium of Novar Ohan and the Sunset Isles...no one would suspect me of being the rabbit." She extended her arm to her husband, John, who was dressed as a nutcracker. "Wonderful, dear... let us go out, and greet the guests."

Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade . . .
Masquerade!
Hide your face,
so the world will
never find you!

Daniel looked distinctly uncomfortable as Liz wiped dust off his costume. "I really, really don't like this..."

"Nonsense...you make a wonderful Elmo..." she said, flipping up his mask and kissing him. "Besides, it matches my outfit."

Daniel sighed. "Is that all I am to you, Liz? A free range accessory to your outfit?"

"Well..." Liz thought, and then smiled as she slid off her long coat, revealing a red, fairly skimpy, dress. "Yes." She pulled down a devil mask, and patted him on the shoulder. "Oh, don't be like that... you know I love you." She gestured to the door. "Shall we, Light Prince?"

Daniel bowed. "Of course, my lady."

Masquerade!
Every face a different shade . . .
Masquerade!
Look around -
there's another
mask behind you!

Damien checked his costume. He had made careful use of his white and black hair, matching it with face-paint. At his side, he carried a jester's staff, his face carefully worked onto it. A simple movement, and his floppy hat was on his face. "Dressed to kill..." he said.

He turned around, and stopped. "Kroenen...the whole point is noone will recognise you. I told you that...imbecile. Still, nothing to be done now. Remember...mingle nicely like a good boy."

The Fuhrer of the NSIWP was dressed as his hero, Adolf Hitler.

Flash of mauve . . .
Splash of puce . . .
Fool and king . . .
Ghoul and goose . . .
Green and black . . .
Queen and priest . . .
Trace of rouge . . .
Face of beast . . .

Interim Prime Minister James Grey was reclining against a pillar, watching the party, in his wizard costume. All of a sudden, he felt someone tap his shoulder. Spinning around, he saw Clarissa Bencenoff, the Socialist Candidate for his job. "Madame...what are you doing here?"

The young woman smiled, looking down at her Princess costume. "You don't like it?" She asked, grinning.

James looked disapproving, or at least, tried. "Madame... that is becoming, but it hardly suits someone of your status..."

She pouted a bit. "Hmph...I see. Is that all I am? A jumped up working class girl, with ideas too large for her?"

James smiled, and offered his hand. "Clarissa, you know me better than that... if anyone deserves that costume, it's you. Shall we dance?"

Faces . . .
Take your turn, take a ride
on the merry-go-round . . .
in an inhuman race . . .

Princess Rachel Edwina Black II scowled as she regarded her costume. "It's horrid," she said, bluntly.

Her maid coughed. "madame...please..."

Rachel sighed. "Well, if I must..." the young girl stepped behind the screen, and changed. She stepped out from the other side, dressed as a fairy. "It's simply horrid..."

There was a general nautical theme to the C'tan delegation. The Emperor himself, was dressed as, well, as some kind of bizzare seabird like a cormarant, still managing to remain regal, despite having his hair a black-green, and long, flowing white robes that created the illusion of black-green feathers. With him, his so called 'Adjutant,' though what she actually did was a mystery, was arrayed in a similar manner, though her hair was naturally white, and she was coloured as a gannet to reflect this.

Asirnoth, also known as 'the Dragon' was dressed as Neptune, comlete with trident. With him, dressed out in a scaled outfit, and carrying a sword, and probably a pistol of some kind hidden about his person, was the director of the ISA. Several others, of lesser importance, hung around also.

The only one not following the trend was Fëaelen nos Ancalimë, the ambassador to Menelmacar, who had turned up dressed, very convincingly, as Sirithil Fëanor, it helped that she had much the same figure as Sirithil, so all she'd had to do was change her hair and eye colour, though she'd lengthened her hair somewhat too, for authenticity's sake.

tag

Kestrel was more then a little suprised by the size of the hall, filled as it was by men and women in costumes of all shapes and colours. She'd never been to a costume ball before - she'd attended a few gallas in the past few years as Empress of Indiastan, but she'd never been a near-anonymous guest. With her previous job experence being what it was, she was understandibly nervous about the whole thing, but had been assured by the State department that it was quite safe. She was here to relax and enjoy, and maybe even meet a few interesting people.

She'd dressed in her usual formal attire; (which she thought a bit odd, considering it was a costume party) a dark blue silk kimono, with a brilliant white obi and under-kimono. Her glossy black hair was piled high, and held by a pair of silver chopsticks, matching her silver necklace and earrings. It was a bit of a dissapointment that she wasn't allowed to bring her ceremonial sword, but protocol was protocol, and who was she to disobey?

She didn't come alone, however. Practicly glued to her hip was her personal assistant and translator, Miiko Saromi. Miiko was an expert linguist, schooled in the art of impartial translation and diplomacy, and she was one of the first real friends Kestrel made after marrying into the now royal family. In fitting with Kestrel's choice of dress, Miiko had chosen another popular Japanese dress style - a tartan miniskirt, knee socks and sports coat. She had the figure for it, and she knew Kestrel had always thought the schoolgirl outfit to be an amusing compliment to her chosen style.

The two of the moved about the hall, Miiko holding Kestrel's arm and leading her, almost as if she was blind. She wasn't, of course, but she was deaf; this being the main reason why Miiko had a job. That, and because talking to people telepathicly was not generally considered normal, so Kestrel didn't usually do it. The Empress must not appear to be strange, after all.

When the Roanians saw the visitors from the Eternal Necrontyr Empire, dressed like the sea, a space opened around them. Very few members of the crowd nodded or looked at them.

An Aguan noble, dressed as a Naval Officer, chortled as he watched the Roanians make uncomfortable faces. "Well, well, well... look at our lords and masters now, my dear..." he whispered to his dancing partner, a young Altaran woman.

James Grey imperceptibly stumbled as he saw them, but restrained his fear. "Who do you think they are, Clarissa?"

Clarissa paused. "I don't know...kind of hard to tell. You could go up and ask them..."

James coughed. "Well...hrmm...err...none of my business, really..."

==========

A solitary figure observed Kestrel glide across the floor, looking up and down her costume. Dark Prince Damien Alexander Black smiled. "She looks like she'd be amusing... right, Kroenen?"

"Yes, your Grace..." the NSIWP Fuhrer blinked with surprise as Damien glided across the floor towards the Indian woman. "Um...sir? Sir...?"

Damien bowed low. "Ah...and who, might I ask, would you be?"

Kestrel noticed the man approach from halfway across the rather carvernous hall, but when one combines a rather uniquely shaped body with a bright colourful costume, one ceases to become hard to miss. She only became sure that he was heading for her when he had approached with five or so feet and bowed. Seeing that there really wasn't anyone else to be bowing to, she and Miiko both bowed to him equally, before Kestrel cocked her head to lok at Miiko, who was already signing what the gentleman had said.

It was at about this point that she seemed to notice something a little odd about the gentleman before her. Like all telepaths, she could easily pick up the surface thoughts of normals, who carelessly broadcasted them without their knowing. Of course, she had been trained to ignore these thoughts out of respect of privacy, but every once and a while some just crept through her mental blocks when they were suitably strange. It seemed that the man before her was more then he appeared... She thought for a split second about poking around in that cranium of his to find out just what was so different about him, but she knew she'd be trained better then that, and abandoned the notion just as quickly.

After Miiko had finished the gentlemen's introduction, Kestrel began signing herself, with her young interpreter translating almost as quickly as kestrel's deft hands traced out the words.

"Ah, greetings. I am Kestrel Amea of United Indiastan, pleased to make your aquanitence, and this is my interpreter, Miiko Saromi. It's been a lovely party so far. Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Might we know your name too, good sir?"

Damien bowed, and kissed her hand. "I am Dark Prince Damien Alexander Black... your servant, madame." He gestured around the room. "I suppose you're used to this occasion? I generally prefer to avoid these events, but my mother did so insist..."

He scanned her carefully. Hmm...not too unattractive. Seems a bit fragile, though...wouldn't provide me with too much blood or entertainment... He smiles at her carefully, and nods to her interpreter. "It is a pleasure to meet you, madame..."

Taurevanimë came to the ball dressed as a swan, beautifull snow white feathers adorned her costume, seeming to form wings on her arms, yet they wouldn't inhibit her gracefull movement. A feathered swan head adorned her head, it's eyes seemingly alive.
Following her was her nephew, who wanted to visit the ball as soon as he heared it would be a costumed ball. He was finely dressed in clothes of old and carried a lute. He came as a bard to this party, for that is what he was.

Kestrel smiled as as he took her hand, being sure to nod accordingly and carry on with the ceremony of a somewhat formal introduction. Even after several years of practice, the whole thing still felt foreign to her. But, she'd known thigns far worse, and simply grinned and made do.

"Ah, Prince Black. I've heard of you and your family before. My compliments to your mother; she sure knows how to throw a party. Now, as to your question, no, I've not actually been to many of these sort of festivities before. I've only been Empress for about a year now, and married to Esana for five, so the whole thing is still a bit strange. It seems we've that in common, at least. Ah, but before we get too serious, a drink perhaps?"

Making his way through the crowd, Death walked precariously with two drinks in his hands, trying his best not to step on his long black cloak that threatened to tangle around his legs. His vision was slightly obscured by the death’s head mask that he wore, never having been comfortable looking through the tiny eyeholes that had been cut into the material.

Dodging countless near misses, as he managed to skim his way past the other guests until he finally spotted his companion, not that she was hard to see, the blood red costume she had chosen stood out. She had come aptly as the devil, her name dictating her choice, not that she didn’t look good with her flowing dark hair contrasting against the material’s colour. The figure hugging suit had been hidden by a cloak, and her features were obscured by a mask that covered the top half of her face. Her blood red lips and deep blue eyes still remained visible.

As Lord Stratton approached, Gehenna smiled, and accepted the glass that her cousin presented her, cradling the glass in her hands. She looked around at the assembled guests, seeing a few that she recognised and countless many that she could not put a name to. Taking a sip of her drink, her eyes fell upon a woman dressed as a swan; the image causing a flash of memory to stir and her smile to grow, and if she had not been wearing a mask, a faint blush would have been noticeable.

“I should like a stroll around the room, just to see who is present.” She looped her arm through her cousin’s and set off. “I’ve always like masquerades. The chance for a moment to be someone else.” She smiled again, as more memories flooded her mind. Relaxing, she let Lord Stratton lead them on their walk.

As Joshua in his dark ranger of lore costume silently walked past several guests his black cloak sent a shadow across his face only the glint of a small silver chain with a crystal at the end would give away who he was to those who knew him well. He edged near a window and looked out quietly. He suddenly felt the soft hand of his close friend in her dark ranger costume. "Never have liked coming here," she says quietly. "You're just pissed because they found your pistol," Joshua says before he laughs slightly. "Burn. Just burn," she replied before she started laughing as well.

The doors swung open.
She entered; her dressings dark, tight and crisp. A long black tail behind her. Her seductive lips smiling widely though her eyes were masked.
Her perfume strong and yet subtle and insidious to the nose.
She announced loudly, confidently to the crowd, too her usually borish diplomats.

"Well at least someone knows how to make an entrance."

She walked in, struting her lithe and perfect figure. She walked up to the Dark Prince. As if he were but a catch in some nightclub. She offered him her hand.

"Lara Loray, Foriegn Secretary for the Republic of Mirae. Don't forget it."

((hope you don’t mind me taking liberties - I generally assume that Iansisle maintains an embassy in all countries with which we have contact, unless explicitly stated otherwise. If you’d rather not have a diplomatic mission from the Shield, for whatever reason, just tell me and the ambassador can become a visiting business man or whatever else suits your fancy.))

Earlier

“Oh, look, John! There’s going to be a masquerade - how delightfully quaint! We ought to attend!” Sarah Caddick, ever full of energy, burst into her husband’s study with a social newsletter clutched in her hand.

“Indeed?” asked John Caddick, twenty years her senior, disinterestedly. “Hosted by whom?” The Iansislean ambassador didn’t even bother to glance up from his newspaper.

“The government, it would appear. This would be a smashing chance to escape, don’t you think? Taking on another’s persona for an entire evening; how romantic! How adventurous! How -”

“Sarah, please.” At last, John looked up from his newspaper. “I’m trying to read this. There’s a splendid article on the troubles in Gallaga.” And he buried his nose in it once again.

“But John!” protested his wife. “We never have the chance to go out any more!”

“That’s not true - why, didn’t we just attend that ball in Ianapalis?”

“That was three months ago! And you know how stuffy a Grand Ball is; this would be a spectacular chance to escape. Besides, it’s being hosted by the government; you’d have a chance to do your job while we dance the night away!”

He sighed and put down his newspaper again. “My job, dear Sarah, is to lie low. Didn’t you see the latest missive from Lord Inswick?”

“Well - yes. But no one would know it’s you! That’s what is so special about a masquerade!”

“Sarah, no.”

“Then at least let me attend!” Sarah’s arms were limp and her voice pleading as the Caddick’s butler walked in.

“Afternoon tea, Your Excellency,” he said, placing the tray down before John.

“Thank you, Barton,” replied John dismissively. The butler bowed and exited. “Sarah, under no circumstance will I permit you to attend alone! I have heard of these ‘masquerades’; sweltering cesspools of scandal and immorality, that’s all they are. No proper lady ought to attend - much less without a gentleman to escort her.”

“I could find an escort.”

“Once again, absolutely not. Why, if IanCorp ever caught wind of that! - I shudder to think of the consequences. Now, please; I really must finish reading this.” Up came the newspaper yet again. Sarah, her eyes threatening to tear up, turned and fled from the room.

------

“My! - but these women do wear the most scandalous costumes!” exclaimed Diana, clutching more tightly to Caesar’s arm.

“Do you feel faint?” asked Caesar. His voice was concerned, but not tender; familiar, but not close.

“No, no. I just wasn’t expecting quite such a spectacle. I shall be fine in a moment.”

“This doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, don’t be such a worry-wart! Here, cast your gaze upon that vixen!” laughed Diana.

“For fear of her husband, I dare not,” answered Caesar.

“And what shocking impertinence! Why, if we were on the Shield, she should have been thrown out into the street!”

“Such brazenly insolent outbursts, I fear, are typical of a Godless republic. But why does she announce her name? Is not the point of a masquerade anonymity?”

“Come, let us talk of something else.”

“The only other subject at hand is my discomfort at our presence.”

“We’ve only just arrived. Please, I’ll stay but an hour or two.”

“I dread to remain even that long.”

“Well, dear Caesar, we’ve already crossed the Rubicon. We cannot walk out so soon without drawing undue attention, and there is nothing to be gained by doing so.”

“iacta alea est,” he muttered despondently, glancing about the crowd as if his savior might suddenly appear.

The state of Arju, one of the most powerful states in the Allied Government of Saiogena sent Princess Tzi Yun and her personal bodyguard Shim. Tzi Yun smiled in her pocket mirror, her costume was perfect, she looked just like the White Lady Eowyn, while Shim was dressed as the Prana-Hindu God Vesha, the blue skined God of War, complete with battle armor and a realistic version of Dwessha, Demonslayer, that got taken by security.

"You'd of looked better with the sword." Tzu Yun said as they arrived. "Yes milady." Shim answered as he kept an eye out for trouble. "Smile a bit more Shim and enjoy yourself tonight." Tzu Yun said in a frustrated tone, Shim was always liek this. "Yes milady." was always his answer.

My brother would be amused at this assignment thought Trojk. Tronk, his brother, was currently in the service of a powerful Alconian and fooling around in the volatile region of the former Axe Weilding Maniacs looking for missing aid money.

Trojk looked around the room. His assignment was to merely make contact with other nations and observe. Most likely, he would be observed as well, since he nearly was seven feet tall, dark-skinned, and powerfully built. His costume consisted of only a large loincloth along with bow and arrows. The arrows were only for show and could not harm anyone. The bow, however, was finely crafted and sturdy and could function as a club if needed. It was fastened to his broad back. (OOC: Unless the Roanians confiscated it which is not a problem). Warpaint, braided black hair, and a necklace of fake ears completed the look. Unfortunately, the tomahawk and flint knife were taken away. A single gold band coiled around his right bicep.

His stoic demeanor should only help to enhance the stereotype, since he mumbled only a few words to the Roanians and never yet initiated a conversation.

Unity swept into the room. Well, she was supposed to sweep into the room. More like tripped into the room. She was wearing heels so high, she almost got a nosebleed. Her mask was supposed to be that of Snow White (who in Temme mythology is actually a union organizer) but somehow costuming had turned it into Michael Jackson with lipstick. She fell onto the dance floor.

#tag#

Wherever the duchess of Kajal Mars had been for the past weeks, it obviously hadn't been completely isolated from the outside world.

Or universe. Semantics.

While those "protecting" her could have been regarded as captors, and were, in all likelihood, imperial agents, she was going to attend this masquerade.

Her "attendants", as she had started calling them, had brought her a rather peculiar costume. She wasn't all that familiar with the mythologies from Earth, but she understood the concept.

She would be going as a figure known on earth as Aphrodite. From what she had read about this goddess, she was nearly identical to the Kajalan figure Lirel.

Oh, it would be fun.

Meanwhile, Ambassador Lume, of Imperial Kajal, left Kajal Mars' orbiting station, where he had been stationed to maintain slightly less-then-hostile relations.

While Martian Kajali had, as a language, deviated greatly from the original meanings of words, he chose a figure in Kajali mythology that would be not only somewhat disturbing to stand near, but also a good counterpoint to what the duchess would be wearing.

Lirel, the goddess of love, would be countered by Seivra, the lord of hatred.

Getting into the costume was tricky, but when Lume arrived, he certainly stood out.

Of course, when one wears what is best described as demonic battle gear, it doesn't take much. The color scheme was a simple monochromatic - black with silver.

The costume would likely be unnerving to some. It was too bad Lume couldn't think of what the earthen equivalent would be.

And so the two walked into the room at about the same time.

Unity stood up and smiled. She then let out a little laugh.

Shim studied himself in Lady Yun's mirror, the blue makeup covered all the visible parts of his body, the black body armor with silver engravings of Vesha's war with the demon Gagamoko and how he tore him apart and ate his flesh but vomited the demon back up into a broken mountain and created the first volcano, Mt Gagamoko. Shim even wore red contact lens to mimic Vesha's eyes always filled with bloodlust.

Princess Tzu Yun was at the punch bowl getting something to drink, she was never good at breaking the ice at parties.

Shim studied himself in Lady Yun's mirror, the blue makeup covered all the visible parts of his body, the black body armor with silver engravings of Vesha's war with the demon Gagamoko and how he tore him apart and ate his flesh but vomited the demon back up into a broken mountain and created the first volcano, Mt Gagamoko. Shim even wore red contact lens to mimic Vesha's eyes always filled with bloodlust.

Princess Tzu Yun was at the punch bowl getting something to drink, she was never good at breaking the ice at parties.

Unity couldn't take it anymore. She had made a total fool out of herself, and it would only get worse. She took off at a run-hop for the washroom, where she ripped off the mask.

Unity's mother had taught her some basic makeup tips, and she used them now. She laid the foundation on so thick that it was mask-like. In the end, she did not look like herself, or like Snow White either. But at least she didn't look like Michael Jackson.

"One last thing," she said to herself and tossed the shoes away. Hoping no one would recognize her as the same girl who'd made a fool of herself on the dance floor, she left.

OOC: I doubt that you could slip away in this crowd.

IC:

Trojk watched the lady fall onto the dance floor. But before he could gallantly come to her rescue, she was up on her feet and ran into the bathroom. Soon, she left.

Ah well. Grandfather always said there are plenty of fish in the sea.

Unity re-entered the room, a little more gracefully than before. She smiled her trademark smile. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She caught the eye of a tall young man dressed in a loincloth. She gave a tiny wave to him, and shyly turned her attention to the punchbowl.

What am I doing here? I'm too shy to be a good diplomat. I wish I could get a job at TemFood

OOC: TemFood, FYI, is the local fast food joint.

((Kajal))

Commissar John Hawkins of the 57th Corps laughed a bit idly as he half-listened to his rather plain partner's conversation. He bit his tongue, though, when the woman dressed as Aphrodite stepped inside the ballroom. Owww... "Who do you suppose that might be?" He asked his partner, gesturing with his head.

Commissar Ludwig Terteren, also of the 57th Corps, looked up from the plate. The portly soldier wrinkled his brow in exasperation. "I certainly don't recognise her...but god, she's beautiful..." he turned slightly pale, though, when her partner entered with her. "Oh, dear... looks like Lord Captain Commander Tifling on a good day, doesn't he?"

"What are you babbling about, Ludwig? She doesn...oh, my..." he was distinctly uncomfortable about this man dressed in battle armour. "I think it would be best if we go back to our posts, quietly... before he sees us, say."

((Saigonea))

A man dressed in simple monastic attire, the hood pulled low over his face, walked past the Saigonean representative, Lord Shim. "My, that is certainly an...interesting costume, sir. Would I be correct in assuming that those pictures on your armour are representative of...hmm...I'd say, archaic Saigonean myth-cycles?" The voice had a slightly bored, yet cultured, air to it, the lilt that would mark him as a citizen of the Divine Imperium strangely absent.

At the same time, a young noble woman of Indo-Chinese extraction had spotted Princess Tzu Yun. With a soft and easy step, she walked over. "Blessings be upon you, madame," she said.

((Temme))

A man dressed in the blue uniform of a Servant of the Imperial Diadem, ceremonial rapier at his side, walked over the young woman and offered her a hand to her feet. He regarded her costume with confusion, evidently not sure of what she was meant to be. With a quick laugh, confidence re-asserted itself. "Are you all right, madame?"

((Ianisle))

The men from the shield had not passed un-noticed. Light Prince Daniel had noted their entrance, and was now carefully listening to their voices. His girlfriend waited impatiently at his side, wondering how he managed to both obey everything she said, (RE: Elmo Costume) and disobey everything she said, like now. "What are you doing, Daniel?" Lady Elizabeth Darquis asked, not liking how the woman had looked at her costume as she had scanned the room.

Daniel coughed for silence, and caught their accents again. "Hmmm... I'd say...Ianisleans. Now, I'm guessing they'd be from the embassy, as they would be the only people from that nation likely to get the invitation and clearance...but who...god, I wish I had paid more attention when the ambassadors were all introduced to me. I'd say, judging from height and...sound of the tones they employ with eachother, that the woman is younger than the man by a considerable amount, and..."

Liz slapped the back of his head. "Give it up, Daniel...you're not Sherlock Holmes, and you never will be... you probably got everything wrong, anyway. Hmph...it's a good thing I had dissuaded you from the Sherlock Holmes costume, or you'd pester everybody in here."

Daniel looked hurt, but realised that Liz was probably right. He started, though, when she dragged him to his feet and almost started to pull him towards the Ianisleans. "Come on, Daniel, you're one of the hosts of this evening, you could ask if they wanted anything..."

"But dear, that's what servants are for..." He pondered, not for the first time, how the adopted daughter of Archduke Darquis could possibly have so much...egalitarianism...

((Mirae, United Indiastan))

Damien started as he saw the neko walking towards him, and had to fight with every fiber of his being not to walk away in disgust at being approached by a non-human. With a masterly display of self-control, he bowed down and kissed her hand. "Blessings be upon you, madame...I was under the impression, though, that this was a masquerade...which means I've already broken the rules twice in this one evening...still, keep my identity secret, and I'll keep yours...I am Dark Prince Damien Alexander Black, son of Kaiserin Malissa Lucille Black."

He made slight hand signals to a few of his supporters, hoping for some assistance. When a few viscounts looked up, he almost sighed with relief. "Would the two of you care for a drink?" He asked, nodding to the bar. "We have a full cellar."

((Gehenna Tarterus))

A soft voice came at Gehenna's other side, from a young girl dressed in a fairy costume. "Blessings be upon you, Liz..." she said, her voice lilting even more than was normal for Roanians. "Are you looking for Daniel? Or mother?"

Princess Rachel Edwina Black II was a bit confused as to why Elizabeth Darquis was with a man besides her brother, but let it rest. Liz was wearing a devil costume, this woman was wearing a devil costume, this woman must be Liz.

((Taurenor))

An Imperial Musician, slightly the worse for drink, looked up at the bards passing. "Ha...why not <hic> sing us a song?" He asked, eyes bloodshot from the cheap wine that was all he was given access to.

At the same time, the few Imperial Elves in the room looked over at Taurevanime, eyes tracing her every move, but none of them yet wishing to move. "Almost could be a Teleri, yes, Eltessaer?" One of them muttered to his companion.

Slowly Joshua began to walk away from the window. His cloak seemed to float behind him as he walked towards the bar. The only thing on his mind other than getting a stiff drink was the war at New Phalanix and all over Reach. He shut the disturbing mental images from his mind and stopped only a few inches from walking into the bar and looking like a fool. "Whisky and vodka," he said to the bar tender as he never lifted his head. His friend also dressed in a near identical costume (minus the color of cloaks) walked over to his orginal spot and began to look out. She sighed quietly. She lowered her cloak's hood and brushed the odd few strands of golden blond hair. "Why can't life be so simple," she mutters as she looks at her reflection.

King Valandil walked in, dressed in a replica of the clothes Isildur wore to the War of the Last Alliance in FTF 10. He saw the Eowyn lookalike (attn: Saiogena) and wandered over to say hello.




~Ennorath pedir aen orchen ae Melkor garn výl ammaer.

Aphrodite, as she appeared, strode gracefully over to the bar, smiling as she did so. When she arrived, she perched herself on one of the seats, and proceeded to order a drink.

"In the absence of any Shemac, which I'm sure is illegal here, I would very much enjoy a... what do you call it.. A vodka... martini! That's it."

She sighed, and smiled at the bartender.

"I must apologize. My english is good, yes, but I've not yet learned the names of many of the drinks here."

She picked her drink off the bar, and stood up, waving her... bodyguard? away. He proceeded to attempt to disappear into the crowd, as she walked towards the two who she had noticed as she entered.

It wasn't like they had stared much, but she did tend to elicit such reactions when entering a room.

It could be worth it, talking to these two who had managed not to drool.

The Huntress first noticed Elmo and the Devil walking towards them. Keen brown eyes peering from under her fanciful masque as she followed their walk. Her costume was simple; a short-cut (though half-way past her knees, the dress would have been enough to quite scandalize an Iansislean ball) hunter’s tunic was adorned with but an empty quiver. An elaborate masque covered the top half of her face.

“Here we go,” she whispered to Caesar, nudging him ever so slightly with her elbow. “I’ll leave the greeting up to you.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled under his breath. “I’ll be sure to return the favor someday.”

To the approaching pair, he instead put on a broad smile under his laurel-ringed masque and raised a hand in greeting. “salvete!”

A figure, resplondant in a snug-fitting tux, slid his way up to John Black.

"Hello, old friend. D'rtang sends his warmest regards."

<<<Double Post>>>

Damien started as he saw the neko walking towards him, and had to fight with every fiber of his being not to walk away in disgust at being approached by a non-human. With a masterly display of self-control, he bowed down and kissed her hand. "Blessings be upon you, madame...I was under the impression, though, that this was a masquerade...which means I've already broken the rules twice in this one evening...still, keep my identity secret, and I'll keep yours...I am Dark Prince Damien Alexander Black, son of Kaiserin Malissa Lucille Black."

He made slight hand signals to a few of his supporters, hoping for some assistance. When a few viscounts looked up, he almost sighed with relief. "Would the two of you care for a drink?" He asked, nodding to the bar. "We have a full cellar."


OOC: She is a human dressed in a cat suit.

IC: She was irritated, had the Dark Prince just fobbed him off? She took a champagne glass and downed it fast. She was disgusted at the wimpish and prudish nature of the Roanian.

That fool, I could have shown him a good time.

She thought...

She waited for some other unsuspecting male diplomat to pass by in the hopes on enticing him....

Unity re-entered the room, a little more gracefully than before. She smiled her trademark smile. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She caught the eye of a tall young man dressed in a loincloth. She gave a tiny wave to him, and shyly turned her attention to the punchbowl.

What am I doing here? I'm too shy to be a good diplomat. I wish I could get a job at TemFood

OOC: TemFood, FYI, is the local fast food joint.

Trojk smiled back at the jittery woman and, moving with a grace incongruous to his size, made his way to her. He was careful not to bump into anyone but then again, his size helped to clear a path. Besides, he wanted to sample the punch.

Miiko and Kestrel, like most of the guests who saw her rather arrogant arrival, rolled their eyes at the woman in the cat suit. After standing idly by as she came up and rather rudely introduced herself to the Prince, Kestrel hinted to Miiko that she wanted to move on, and so her assistant leaned up to Damien and whispered to him, so that Miss Loray wouldn't hear.

"So sorry, Highness, but my mistress wishes to continue on, and extends her apologies for not staying to converse with you more. She also says to enjoy this... handfull of a woman, and that if you'd like to meet again later, she won't be hard to find. Good evening."

With that, they both finished their drinks and headed off into the crowd again, looking for someone interesting.

((Phalanix))

"Here you are, sir..." the bartender passed him the drink. "Is everything all right, sir?"

((Kajal))

The two commissars snapped to attention when they saw the absolutely beautiful woman walking towards them. John Hawkins straightened his uniform and unconsciously smoothed his hand back over his almost-hairless skull. His body, finely honed from almost twelve years of military life, almost gleamed bronze in the chandelier-lit room.

By way of contrast, Ludwig Terteren was short and stocky, his paunch having grown slightly large from his time as a Staff Officer. He preferred to dine out on his intellect than on his physicality, and had primed his wit to the full. Wisely, perhaps, because when he snapped to attention it took a second or two extra for his body to stand completely still.

Neither of them wore costume, though their dress-uniforms came close just through being un-familiar.

Hawkins took the initiative. "Blessings be upon you, madame..." his throat going dry as he saw her come nearer.

((Ianisle))

Daniel Black reluctantly extended a red-furred hand. "Blessings be upon you...might I be correct in assuming that you are the ambassador of Ianisle?" He asked, bored.

Liz looked scandalised, or as scandalised as she could be when dressed in tight, form-flattering, thin cotton clothes that were her only defense against the oppressive heat of the desert, at his rudeness. I know he's doing it to annoy me... I swear. He can be very charming when he puts his mind to it, why does he have to play the fool? She elbowed him firmly. "Sorry, sir...what my friend here meant to do was welcome you to this party, and ask if you needed anything?"

There was a pause in coversation as the two shook hands.

“Ah ah!” he said at last in the clipped tones of an upper-crust Shadoranite. “That would be telling! No, for tonight I am Gaius Iulius Caesar. I am so fortunate as to be accompanied by the lovely goddess Diana - though I’m afraid I don’t recognize your costume, sir.”

“And what he means to say,” cut in Diana with a smile to the devil, “is thank you for having us at such a splendid party; we’ve both been having an absolutely wonderful time. I think we’re fine for the time being, but thank you kindly for asking.”

She watched the Indiastani delegation escape into the crowd leaving the Dark Prince.
She looked smugly.

"Well, at least I am having some kind of effect!"

She whispered, obviously pleased with herself.

She drained her second glass of champagne and looked at the delegate from Iansisle.
She purred loudly in his direction.

((Mirae))

Damien looked a bit abandoned for a second, but he rallied. She obviously couldn't be a neko...they wouldn't be allowed in... He coughed. "Madame, I'm afraid I was...a bit rude to you...thought you were one of those ghastly cat-people..."

((Ianisle))

Daniel scowled behind his mask, but Liz smiled. "He's Elmo...it's a character on the telivision here, for children...it matches my outfit." She gave a winning smile. "Well, if you need anything, just call for a servant, sir."

Caesar, who had been intelligent enough not to announce his nationality to the entire crowd, spared hardly a glance to his side. Even that was mainly to determine the source of the noise; once located, his full attention returned to the people in front of him.

Diana apparently wasn’t too happy at being brushed aside from the conversation. Her lip curled up slightly as the devil addressed Caesar over her.

“...we’ll be sure to do just that,” Caesar was concluding. “However, I’m afraid I’m a tad dry; if you’ll please excuse us?”

On their way over to the bar, Diana tucked herself close to him. “The nerve of that devil!”

“Beg pardon?”

“I ought to have plugged her with an arrow and added her to the constellations!”

“Do you think perhaps you might be getting just a bit too much - brandy and soda, please, and whatever the lady would like - a bit too much in character?”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” said Diana in a subdued tone. “Maybe just a smidge.”

((Iansisle))

Daniel watched them leave, feeling a bit insulted that they had left without even a proper conversation. "Liz, you were very rude, it seems..."

"How? I was just answering his question...some people. Should we go after them and apologise?"

Damien looked a bit abandoned for a second, but he rallied. She obviously couldn't be a neko...they wouldn't be allowed in... He coughed. "Madame, I'm afraid I was...a bit rude to you...thought you were one of those ghastly cat-people..."

"Cat people!" She exclaimed.

"I wonder what made you think I was a cat person." She exclaimed in humour.

"Do not worry about it, I forgive you. I may not understand your racism but I forgive you. Once again, I am Lara Loray, Foriegn Secretary of Mirae, evil seductress and lady of all cats."

It was obvious she was joking again.

Unfortunately for Mr Grey, all of them immediately headed for him, with two exceptions. The Emperor headed off towards the Indiastani empress, curiousity imprinted in his eyes as he swanned across the floor, once more parting Roanians before him as though they were bacteria and he an antibiotic. Fëaelen remained quietly waiting for someone else.

The Emperor himself seemed, to Kes at least, to be quite interesting, in that he didn't broadcast his thoughts, and seemed to be accompanied by an aura of sheer, intimidating power.

Kestrel could feel him coming, almost as though he was the calm eye of a great storm of thought. She was more then a little facinated by this, and decided that it warrented her attention, Miiko naturally following along. When she intercepted the curious man in a rather strange looking bird suit, she bowed polietly while Miiko gave the standard greeting.

"The Lady Hiyama greets you, good sir, and is honoured to make your aquaintence."

He smiled a little and bowed in return, not really believing this 'Hiyama' claim, and smiled, deciding to call it, just because he could, and plucked her real name out of the translator's mind.

He grinned, and said, "Well, in that case, I'm afraid I can't offer much, being a humble cormarant," he grinned at the translator, "except a friendly greeting to a fellow bird."

Malissa watched the party from a suitable vantage points. She made slight conversation with a trio of official looking men sitting on the podium, and then re-joined her husband. "Well, this is a success, I'd say..."

"Quite right, my dear..." John replied, taking her in his arms. "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

((Speaking of which, Val, get on MSN. Grrr...))

==========

Kroenen jumped when he heard a voice behind him. "So, you managed to wrangle an invitation..." a 6'4" Russian dressed like a boxer glared down on the NSIWP fuhrer. "Disgusting..."

Kroenen glared up at Merkenoff. "Interior Minister, after I become Prime Minister I'll expect a bit more respect...before I have you shot for your impertinence prior to that."

Merkenoff laughed. "I'll be waiting..." he said, bringing his fist forward and sending the little man flying.

Kestrel looked a little puzzeled at this, but then remembered hearing once that the Kestrel was a breed of falcon in some far-off country she'd never visited, and made the connection. Grinning, she spoke back to him directly, eschewing signing and Miiko's translations.

"So, dear Emperor, it seems neither of us are very good at hiding ourselves in a crowd. Perhaps a drink, and maybe a dance? I should like to get to know another... unique indivual such as youself, if it pleases you."

She smiled more broadly, and offered her hand once she finished speaking. Quickly thereafter, she dismissed Miiko, telling her to enjoy herself but stay mindfull of her duties. Being well trained, she bowed and quickly vanished amongst the press of costumes of all shapes and sizes.

Meanwhile, having snuck away from the group, 'Paul' de Vere, director of the ISA had crept up behind the little man in the Hitler costume, and, knowing who he was, darted forward with all his cybernetic speed to deliver a quick punch to the man's kidney, with all the force of a falling anvil. He attempted to dissapear as fast as possible after that.

Kroenen crumpled against a wall, his eyes spinning.

((Ctan))

Grey looked up, and almost collapsed into Clarissa's arms as he saw the sea-costumed people coming towards him.

The Emperor took her hand, "Oh, I'm certain I can when I want to," he paused, "Of course," he said, gesturing towards the nearest supply of alcohol, "So, you've never seen a Kestrel?" he asked.

The Adjutant, Elash Mîriel, blinked, as she recieved a message from the Emperor, speaking inside her mind. Get me a Kestrel.

Where the hell are they going to find one of them on short notice?

The palace has an extensive supply of birds, he sent.

She sighed, and took a panel like device from her costume, and quickly imput the message.

((Saigonea))

A man dressed in simple monastic attire, the hood pulled low over his face, walked past the Saigonean representative, Lord Shim. "My, that is certainly an...interesting costume, sir. Would I be correct in assuming that those pictures on your armour are representative of...hmm...I'd say, archaic Saigonean myth-cycles?" The voice had a slightly bored, yet cultured, air to it, the lilt that would mark him as a citizen of the Divine Imperium strangely absent.

At the same time, a young noble woman of Indo-Chinese extraction had spotted Princess Tzu Yun. With a soft and easy step, she walked over. "Blessings be upon you, madame," she said.

"It is one of the many legends of Vesha, the Prana-Hindu God of War," Lord Shim explained, "It is one of my favorites." his English was perfect and absent from it was the clipped ascent of Arju.

Princess Tzu Yun smiled and said in her quiet voice, "May you have ten thousand years of long life."

"Here you are, sir..." the bartender passed him the drink. "Is everything all right, sir?"

"Ya.... just wondering when the hell I'll be able to get back into the combat zones insted of being sent to a nation we were nearly went to war with," he replies in one quick sentence "Other than that everything else is just great." He took a small sip of his drink and smirked. Let me guess. Remembering that time when we got attacked by a group from an alternate demension again? a voice said in Joshua's head startling him for a second. Is that you Michelle? he probes quicklly in the direction. Nope from your cloak. They found away to intigrate me. And it's Cortana not your date. Remember she is only human. Not super human half-vampire.
While Joshua was being startled by the sudden surprize his friend left in the cloak his date, Michelle was quietly looking over a small status report on a small digital uplink pad. She sighed quietly as the statistics from the recent evacuation missions came in.

Nyellon smiled at the drunk musician and grabbed his lute, plucking a few chords to see if it was tuned right and making a few changes. He then started to sing, his voice sweet in the air and heard throughout the ball room.

Lúron ammára sí,
tuilello lemba lotse equélie;
lúron ammára sí,
man ista pá nuóra ré, i ré, i ré?
A himya sillume,
na cuilen, melmen quante poldori,
á tyares termare,
an lúmion ammára sí, ná sí, ná sí!

Sí - ar lá i yáre úrénima.
Sí - nuóra ré vahaiya ná.
A himya sillume,
na cuilen, melmen quante poldori,
á tyares termare,
an lúmion ammára sí, ná sí, ná sí!

As the elf sang, the Emperor leaned a little closer to Kes, slipping his arm inside hers and provided a translation into english, though he said, or rather sang, them aloud as well as into her mind, though he was quite quiet.

Lúron ammára sí,
The best of times is now
tuilello lemba lotse equélie;
What's left of summer but a faded rose
lúron ammára sí,
The best of times is now
man ista pá nuóra ré, i ré, i ré?
As for tomorrow well, who knows, who knows, who knows?
A himya sillume,
So hold this moment fast
na cuilen, melmen quante poldori,
And live and love as hard as you know how
á tyares termare,
And make this moment last
an lúmion ammára sí, ná sí, ná sí!
Because the best of times is now, is now, is now!

Sí - ar lá i yáre úrénima.
Now - not some forgotten yesterday
Sí - nuóra ré vahaiya ná.
Now - tomorrow is too far away
A himya sillume,
So hold this moment fast
na cuilen, melmen quante poldori,
And live and love as hard as you know how
á tyares termare,
And make this moment last
an lúmion ammára sí, ná sí, ná sí!
Because the best of times is now, is now, is now!

Turning towards the voice, Gehenna smiled, her eyes quickly running over the young girl before her. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” She laughs lightly. “But then, I suppose that is the idea of masquerades.” She looked at her companion, who was laughing along with her. “And what is so funny, may I ask?”

He ceased his laughter in order to reply. “I told you devils were a common costume.”

Gehenna frowned, then laughed. “Yes, you did. It must be annoying always being right, Val.” She returned her attention back to the young girl. “I am Empress Gehenna of Tartarus.” She indicated the man beside her. “And this is my cousin, Lord Val Stratton.” Presenting her hand, she smiled kindly. “And who might you be?”

A man with black hair with a simple white face mask and a tuxedo leans against a wall, watching the events of the masquerade with intrigue.

Michelle quietly turned and placed the data pad in one of the pouches on her belt and sighed again. She kept her hood down and began walking past several people towards a diffrent window slightly closer to the bar. She brushed some bits of her hair away as it fell infront of her face.

“Is that the only reason you pulled me over here?” asked Diana after a moment’s silence.

“Don’t think I can’t read you - we’ve known each other too long. You wanted to bite her head off.”

“I should think, then, that you’d also know me well enough to know that I’d never do something like that!” she exclaimed hotly, remembering in the nick of time to keep her voice low. “I’ve spent seven years as the wife of a diplomat; I know how to control my temper!”

“Like you’re doing now?” asked Caesar softly.

“Oh! I swear, you are the most incorrigible man I know!”

“I’d have to be. No one in his right mind would have allowed you to drag him along to a place like this.”

“If you don’t like it so much, then leave!” challenged Diana. “But I’m staying!”

“You know I can’t do that.” He sighed. “Look, we’re probably drawing unneeded attention by this pointless argument.”

“Oh, and that’d never do! God forbid anyone should ever -”

“You’re getting too emotional. You know as well as I do what - well. You know. Now, please, let’s stop arguing.”

“Like I said,” repeated Diana, “you can leave if you want. Or you can stay here and throw more booze into your system; I care not. But I’m going dancing.”

“Mrs ...Diana, no!” Caesar reached out his right hand and caught her pale-skinned bare arm as she turned away. “That’ll never do! Why, I doubt these...outlanders know the first thing about proper dance. God knows what immoral hedonistic gyrations they employ!”

“Then maybe someone has to teach them,” Diana retorted, shaking off his hand angrily. “I’ll dance with whom I please when I please. Now please, do everyone here a favor and drink yourself into a deeper stupor.”

She stalked off, looking around for a likely looking dance candidate as the music started.

Joshua turned and leaned against the bar and raised his hood slightly letting his percing forest green eyes look around. He smirked as he eyeballed a few of the costumes. He then lowered his hood and scratched an itch in his head amist his dark brown hair. Michelle quietly leaned against a wall also eyeballing the costumes giggling slightly at some of them.

The man in the full face mask and the tuxedo sipped from a glass of wine. He could hear a female ranting about how she could control her temper, and he chuckled at the irony.

OOC: Sorry can't help it, I love to make an entrance. Enough on with the story.

The ballroom previously loud with the varied converstations of many fell abruptly silent as the new group walked in. They came in quietly accompanied only by the slight whisper of their clothing and the strange chiming of the elaborate collar fixed around the necks of the two large felines flanking them. They were incrediability varied in their choice of clothing and yet somehow it all meshed together in a uniformed display of malice.

They all wore masks, but that was not unusual for them as they were Nobles. The front man was the Prime Minister Lord Riddrick of the House of Atredies. He was dressed in a costume of the Red Death. His clothes were shades of red from pinkish to black and his mask was a shattered wreck of black and red made to look like a man in agony.

The lady to his side was Noir his lady love of the moment dressed as a American Mcgee's Alice. Her hair was a mixture of red and black, her dress a blood spattered blue frock with white apron with high, strait-laced boots. Her mask had the look of a tortured child with a special secret.

Following them was the Director of National Work a man as cold as death. He dressed accordingly as an undertaker his clothes in black fitting perfectly on his long, slim frame. The mask he wore showed a man cunning, if cruel the eyes black holes.

Next to him was the Lady Yume, Director of Defense, who had a strange sense of humor. So of course she dressed obsurely in a black dress of the Spanish style with a turtleneck collar and a floorlength hoop skirt. Around her neck was a silver necklace holding a claw clutching a single perfect ruby. Her boots were practical and sensible also black and silmilar in style to Noir's. Her hair was dyed a light orange and bound with red silk strips into two silm horizonal bundles leaving the hair in the front to sway in cruves across her face. She wore a mask that showed the simple, unmade face of a strong young woman.

Following these four were three young men, goverment pages learning the the trade of ruling and interacting with other nation leaders. They were dressed in black tuxedos with red roses in their lapels. They wore masks of white and all had their hair dyed midnight black. And the flanking cats were panther-like one a shade of redish gold, the other a bluish black. Both had irises of white on a background of black. Their collars were a mere show they were under a deeper form of control than that.

The whole ensemble stopped and Riddrick stepped forward. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a ball not a masuleum so let us be merry and glad, for tomorrow we may most likely die. Let the party continue!!!" As if awaken from a trance the crowd shook it's self and continued with their interactions.

~Alright people mingle with the others, but be wary of them there are other psyches here and many assasins. However everyone has their weapon right? Good carry on.~

The group dispelled disappearing into the crowd like shadows into corners and mist before the sun.

"...and to you as well, my good sirs."

It was unlikely that they would know certain other methods of communication, but then again, Ambassador Lume would pick up on the discrete hand signals that comprised one such method she knew.

So, she proceeded to make small talk. It didn't matter much about what it was about, but it seemed to be concerned with the party itself.

Focusing as best she could whilst creating her little diversion, she attempted to project a message into the minds of the two commissars.

Lume would pick up on mental domination effects as well, but at least she'd have a bit more time.

I apologize for communicating to you in this manner, however... I require your assistance.

Nod now if you comprehend me.

She continued talking about the party carefully, hoping that the two were able to recieve the message in the first place.

Lila flitted into the building through one of the many windows. Security was nonexistent. Well no that's not true, there was a security force however it was currently unconcious. ~Damn those NiSorans really get down to business when they want to. I hope none of them are dead.~
With a shrug she continued on a mere blur along most people's periperal vision.
Finally she found what she was looking for...the master bedroom. Now all she had to find was the stupid diary the ruler kept with all his thoughts and whatever. ~Where is it, where is it, where the fu-~ Someone was coming and they sounded very drunk and very angry. Time to hide!

((Mirae))

Damien chuckled at her remark, though his eyes remained cold. "So, madame...might I ask what drew you to this foresaken neck of the desert?" He asked, wishing to know how she had found him and why she had bothered.

((Saigonea))

The academic nodded. "Indeed...might I ask where you are from? I'm a lecturer over at the Imperial University." He held up a be-ringed hand. "It's so rare that one gets to meet a person from a different view-point..."

The young asian woman smiled herself, and bowed her head. "I thank you..." she said, her eyes smiling. "So, why are you just standing over here by yourself?"

((Taurenor))

As Nyellon sung, one of the elves in the room swept towards Taurenvarime..."Your son is a good Bard, madame..." he said, softly.

The musician stared speechless at Nyellon, and dropped his bottle on the floor, in shock.

((Gehenna Tarterus))

Rachel curtsied instead of shaking hands. "I'm the Princess," she said, proudly. "And I'm dressed as a horrid fairy...it's not a nice costume. Liz is my brother's girlfriend."

((Muktar))

A man dressed almost exactly like a very famous character from a Loyd Weber play appeared suddenly from a door next to the man. He looked around, and then up at the distant chandelier.

((Phalanix))

The bartender looked over at Michelle. "She your wife?" He asked, seeing several noblemen look at her interestedly.

((Ianisle))

Daniel had finally gotten rid of his accursed Elmo costume, and was now dressed in a Field Marshal's uniform he had taken from his closet. Liz had left for her guest-room, pleading indigestion, though he had a vague suspicion that she was also going to change her costume so as to surprise him. "This is nice," he remarked to no one in particular, looking down on it through his sunglasses.

With the ceremonial hat on, he was quite unrecognisable. He saw Diana, and smiled a bit wanly, before walking over to her and putting on a thick Aguan accent. "Madame, I was wondering, perchance...if I might have the pleasure of this dance?"

The band in the distance was playing a stiff military tune, vaguely reminiscent of the Legion's Marching Song. Most of the dancers just seemed to move stiffly up and down the floor or in circles, arm-in-arm, but a few of the couples more traditionally waltzed, though the tempo seemed unusual.

((NiSoraII))

Malissa looked at the people who had interrupted her ball, and shook her head. "Who do you think they are?" she asked her protocol minister. Before he could answer, she was already sweeping down the stairway towards the newcomers, somehow looking majestic even in her bunny suit. She drew back with distaste when she regarded the...cats... but held up her hands. "Blessings be upon you, newcomers."

((Kajal))

Hawkings and Terteren almost jumped when they heard her voice in their heads. They both nodded, wondering if they might get in trouble for being near a witch.

((CyberCero))

Merkenoff harangued his Shadow Angels as they stood in front of the master-bedroom. "Now, anyone you see in this sector of the palace who doesn't have clearance, shoot them. Is that clear?"

The 10 RICP Stormtroopers saluted.

"That's quite beautiful, dear Emperor," whispered Kestrel. "You've a talent for languages. Shall we dance?"

"Of course."

"Do you have a name, or shall I just call you Emperor for the rest of the evening?"

"You can call me Emperor if you wish, but my name is Mephet'ran."

"Ah. So then, Mephet'ran," Kestrel grinned, "What brings you to Roania? Duty, or a need for a little fun?"

"Well," he sent, "Roanians have always been amusing," he giggled ever so slightly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into a tight turn, "and there's always the opportunity to find some new and enchanting person such as yourself." he added, and looked into Kes' eyes.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Asirnoth looked at the swooing Prime Minister, and proceeded to casually smile, and, with a voice like the waves themselves, said, "Greetings, Roanian."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Elash headed out of the door, and shot a contemputous glare at the Roanian guards.

Clarissa slapped James awake. He looked up, and listened to Asirnoth's voice. His eyes rolled backward again, but she pushed him up. He coughed, and put out his hand hesitantly. "Um...how'd you do?"

Asirnoth seized the man's hand, and squeezed. Exceedingly hard, replying, "Oh, I'm wonderful, and yourself?"

His eyes certainly were something else. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and there was certainly an interesting soul to be seen through these windows. The feeling of having eternity staring back at you seemed to sneak into Kes's mind, giving her some indication of Mephet'ran's 'otherworldly' nature. From his point of view, she was swooning as the chemical precursors for the desired emotions started pumping through her system. Was it love? Maybe not in the truest sense of the word, but it was growing into something close to it. At this point, it would probably be described as infatuation and curiosity, but Kes tried her best to hide it. She hadn't come here for... that, but then again, she hadn't planed on meeting him.

"Ahh... indeed." she smiled. "Well... what else do you do... when there are no Roanians around to amuse... or enchanting women to woo and flatter?"

He smiled a little, "Oh, I do all sorts of things, Imperialesque things if you like," he added, smiling, "Occasionally I amuse myself," he said that so she could interpret it however she liked, "with Menelmacari too."

"But mostly, I spend my time plotting," he grinned, "and intersperse it with wooing intriguing and beautiful women such as youself."

Kroenen crumpled against a wall, his eyes spinning.

Having remembered a little more about the offensive little Nazi, and carefully checking for any guards, even taking note of the more humourously concealed ones, he'd been a field operative in his day, de Vere once more appared, and punched the offensive little weed in the gut, stifling his voice at the same time to avoid drawing any attention, he dragged the little man with the comedic mustache behind a large curtain or something similar, grabbed his wrist and pulled it up between his shoulder-blades, and slammed him into a wall at significant speed, "Crush the elves will you?" he asked, rehtorically, in a harsh whisper, grabbing the nazi by the hair and ramming his face into the wall. "I'll give you a thousand year reich you pathetic little fascist."

The expertly muffled beating continued for some time.

((Right, I'm about done with him now.))

The man in the white mask spots his counterpart and, although it cannot be seen, raises an eyebrow. Apparently he was not the only one at the party who stuck with the old form of a masquerade. He began to walk around the chamber casually to meet new people.

OOC: I’m just delighted to see my friend Kroenen (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=144720) having such a good time at the party …

IC:

Bluey Bludger (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=3080566#3080566) was having a ball. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d spotted one of the guests giving that despicable, little fascist whacker Kroenen a good thrashing, and he was having trouble choking back his laughter. It wouldn’t really have been in character with his costume. He’d managed to stay out of the way of everyone he’d been writing about – so far – and was perched comfortably at the end of an unobtrusive bar, half-full, but rapidly “evaporating” drink in his hand, with a scattering of empties on the bar in front of him testifying to his diligence in investigating the supplies of alcohol at the party. He'd even brought his own bottle, just to show willing, but he didn't think that many of the high muckety-mucks would appreciate the Bundy, though ...

He wasn’t sure who’d sent him the invitation to the party, but he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Ta da … Bluey Bludger, you shall go to the ball,” he chuckled to himself. He’d dug out an old costume that they’d used in the past for marketing, had turned up early just in case, and had been vaguely surprised when he had arrived that no-one had taken any notice of the seven-foot walking wombat as it wandered into the ball-room. The guards had given his invitation a cursory inspection, and that, as they say, had been that. Hob-nobbing with the nobs.

He took another swig from his glass and, gesturing to the cute sheila behind the bar for another fill-up, settled in to watch the entertainment. “Who knows … maybe there’ll even be a story in it .. ” he thought to himself.

---

The Empress of Eragoth was easily recognised, she was young hauty, and extravagent. She was single, but not stupid. She knows stupidity would get her killed. She wore Her dark hair up and wore a scarlet-gold, elisabethian style gown. Her mask was scarlet silk with gold lace trim.

She walked gracefully, looking for a chair. She moved smoothly, her gold shoes barely scuffing the floor. She wore an enchanting smile on her suntanned face.

She looked about. Every one was awfully quiet. She wondedered if any one would approach her. It seemed as though they left. She swished to the grand door.

Deciding not only to get himself an alibi, but also to find someone to dance with, or do something similar, Lord de Vere {though he wasn't a fan of the title, too pretentious}, pulled a mask from a pocket inside the fish outfit, more of a scaled silver suit really, it could actually pass for armour to the untrained eye, and put it on. He quickly selected a partner, a glamourous woman who seemed to be on her way out, and increased his pace, leaving the target of his spite behind the curtain.

Again, seeming to appear from the crowd with no warning - he'd spent the prime of his life sneaking around after all, he couldn't really shake the habit, even hundreds of years later - he coughed, as politely as possible, at the Empress of Eragoth, and bowed a little, "Madame, you seem to be leaving. If you wouldn't mind my imposition, may I have the pleasure of your company for the evening instead?"

Taurevanimë smiledas the elf complimented on Nyellon's singing. "He is indeed great, but he's not my son. He is the son of my defence advisor Urion, and both are dear friends of mine." She said.
Nyellon bowed graciously as he finished and hung the lute on his back again, walking up to Taurevanimë smiling.

The man in the white mask found this form of politics much more interesting than the war and thunder his nation usually dealt with. Much more cultural diversity too. Heck, much more species diversity. And from what he could tell, much more tolerance of others. He decided to find an elf to converse with, as he never met one before.

:arrow:

Daniel had finally gotten rid of his accursed Elmo costume, and was now dressed in a Field Marshal's uniform he had taken from his closet. Liz had left for her guest-room, pleading indigestion, though he had a vague suspicion that she was also going to change her costume so as to surprise him. "This is nice," he remarked to no one in particular, looking down on it through his sunglasses.

With the ceremonial hat on, he was quite unrecognisable. He saw Diana, and smiled a bit wanly, before walking over to her and putting on a thick Aguan accent. "Madame, I was wondering, perchance...if I might have the pleasure of this dance?"

The band in the distance was playing a stiff military tune, vaguely reminiscent of the Legion's Marching Song. Most of the dancers just seemed to move stiffly up and down the floor or in circles, arm-in-arm, but a few of the couples more traditionally waltzed, though the tempo seemed unusual.

Diana had been looking the other way when the Field Marshal approached. Both the music and the way of dance seemed odd to her; she had been raised on a strict regiment of attending only the finest balls Ianapalis could offer. While the Grand Marches, cotillions, and quadrilles of these events prepared her well for social life and courting on the Shield, every day spent in a foreign land proved just how sheltered she truly was.

The couples waltzing across the dance floor did give Diana a chance to smile. She had always loved the waltz, but never had the opportunity to dance it. Iansislean high society had deemed, because of the closed-couple, physical, and lively nature of the waltz - not to mention its commoner origins - that it was immoral and decadent. Still, it clung to the outermost reaches of high society, but every proper lady knew better than to attend a ball where something as scandalous as a waltz might be danced.

Diana gasped slightly when she heard the thick Aguan accent. Quickly, her keen brown eyes were trained on the Field Marshal - who, she thought looks vaguely familiar - and her thoughts upon his offer.

“Thank you for the offer,” she replied, “and I gladly accept. Though, I must warn you, I am a sucker for a man in uniform!” That much was true at least. In her younger days, she had just about fallen for a dashing officer in the Light Dragoons, who would have given no opportunity for social advancement and plenty for scandal.

"Oh, elves too eh?" she joked as they spun about the dance floor. "Can't say I've met of those, and I've met a few odd folks in my time..." she stopped, blushing inwards. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, so much she wanted to know about this facinating gentleman, but she didn't want to seem too prying. After a second, she continued. "But enough about me. I can tell you're... not from around here. What's it like, you know, out there?

((Phalanix))

The bartender looked over at Michelle. "She your wife?" He asked, seeing several noblemen look at her interestedly.

"Her, no. She is one of the members ing the higher levels of government. She's a rare kind of girl in that line of work. Usualy the branch that she works in hates dealing with military. She strangly enjoys being aorund the soldiers. She likes to help prove to them that there is still a good reason to fight. And she loves the parties down in the barracks," Joshua says with a smile slowly starting to creep on to his face.
Michelle watched the smile slowly form on Joshua and smiled aswell. She always had liked Joshua since the day she saw him but she never had the curage to aproch him and say anything. She didn't know exactly what branch he was in and what rank he had but she couldn't care less if he was a private or a admiral.

Lila flitted into the building through one of the many windows. Security was nonexistent. Well no that's not true, there was a security force however it was currently unconcious. ~Damn those NiSorans really get down to business when they want to. I hope none of them are dead.~
With a shrug she continued on a mere blur along most people's periperal vision.
Finally she found what she was looking for...the master bedroom. Now all she had to find was the stupid diary the ruler kept with all his thoughts and whatever. ~Where is it, where is it, where the fu-~ Someone was coming and they sounded very drunk and very angry. Time to hide!

All he wanted was to setup a simple little trap for some of the royals staying over and then get out. But noo he nearly gets run over by some little girl who has stupidily led a troop of guards right to him. He already had three down for the count with her taking out three herself, when the alarm went off. F*ck... it's never simple.

Lila flitted into the building through one of the many windows. Security was nonexistent. Well no that's not true, there was a security force however it was currently unconcious. ~Damn those NiSorans really get down to business when they want to. I hope none of them are dead.~
With a shrug she continued on a mere blur along most people's periperal vision.
Finally she found what she was looking for...the master bedroom. Now all she had to find was the stupid diary the ruler kept with all his thoughts and whatever. ~Where is it, where is it, where the fu-~ Someone was coming and they sounded very drunk and very angry. Time to hide!

All he wanted was to setup a simple little trap for some of the royals staying over and then get out. But noo he nearly gets run over by some little girl who has stupidily led a troop of guards right to him. He already had three down for the count with her taking out three herself, when the alarm went off. F*ck... it's never simple.

OOC: You're right, it's not...I'm sorry, I'll have to ask you to leave the thread.

Good. I am the Duchess of Kajal Mars, if you need the information. I require a sort of quick escape to be made. My... escort is coming up behind you two now, so don't be too suprised. Get his drink poisoned, tainted, anything to get him distracted. It'll be long enough to get out of the ballroom.

Of course, her mouth had spoken something completely different, and she finished up with "It's been a pleasure talking with you two."

Right as Ambassador Lume, still in costume, of course, arrived from behind the two.

What are you plotting, witch... almost made it into her mind, but being somewhat older and more practiced in the arts... the Duchess' mind was unreadable.

As it had been to every one of her "servants" back on Kajal Mars.

When looking for someone to chat with, the white mask slipped a quick dissolving and highly potent sedative into the Kajali guard's drink.

((C'tan))

James nodded, a bit too forcefully. "Oh...oh...Quite all right, thank you...that's a...a...very interesting costume you have there, sir."

((WN))

Damien narrowed his eyes as he picked out the man drinking the common man's beer. He excused himself from his conversation, and walked over to Budger, putting his hand on the bar-top and smiling quite politely. "Ah...Budger. You did turn up...I'm so glad you got my invitation..."

Damien put his hand out. "My name is Damien Black...you may have heard of me..." his lips pulled back even further, showing his teeth.

((Taur))

The elf nodded his approval, and smiled at the young elf. "You sing very well, good sir." He then turned his beaming face underneath the simple mask towards Taurevarnime. "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

((Ianisle))

The Field Marshal took her into her arms, and smiled charmingly. "Shall we dance, then?" He asked her, quickly switching into a waltz-step, and carrying her into it.

As they moved around, he asked, "Are you from the Divine Imperium, then?" He smiled at her again. Pity she's married...maybe if she wasn't I'd introduce her to one of

((Phalanix))

A young count, dressed as a banana, reached Michelle first. "Madame, might I have this dance?" He asked.

((Kajal))

The soldiers jumped as they saw the horrifying figure from earlier appear behind her. "Sir...would you like a drink?" Terteren asked. "Only me and my friend here were about to... now!"

Hawkings had circled around Liume, and suddenly slammed his rifle onto the back of the larger man's neck, causing his internal universe to suddenly fall switch off.

((There a problem, Kajal...I'll be on MiRC early tomorrow, and we can discuss editing.))

Nyellon smiled and bowed slightly. "Thank you sir, I am glad you liked it." He said before the elf asked Taurevanimë to dance.
Taurevanimë smiled and looked around briefly as the elf asked her to a dance and then looked back at him. "Yes you may." She said, extending her hand and giving him a brilliant smile.

Mephet'ran smiled a little, "Out where, precisely?"

"Out there... beyond our little cradle. The Great Void, or whatever other strange names you could call it. In all my travels, I think I've been amongst the stars only once. And even then, only briefly." Kes paused, obviously blushing again. "I'm sorry. I must sound like a child, wanting to know whats at the top of a hill because she's not big enough to ride a bike up it."

He giggled a little, "Don't worry about it. Well, on the one hand, it's all very much alike, and on the other, infinite wonder and strange creatures abound. It really depends on where you go and what you do..."

This brought out a smile. "Now you're just teasing me."

"That I am," he said, "But you don't truly expect me to tell you everything that's out there, do you?"

"No... I'm not sure what I expected... maybe something a little different, something that you wouldn't normaly find at some backwater protectorate's costume ball..." Saying this, she seemed to sigh, and look longingly off at nothing in paticular, as if she was weary of life itself. Everything about her seemed to radiate sadness, the kind rarely seen amongst mortal man.

He smiled, just a little, "Well, what do you want from me then? Perhaps you'd like to see, rather than hear." He spares a glance for the door.

"Yes... yes..." she trailed off, a little fainter each time, desire welling in her heart.

He looked into her eyes again, and with a somewhat jarring sensation, she was cut off from 'reality' as it were, and what could only be called a montage, of stars quasars and other such celestial bodies, as well as a wide selection of planets, ranging from airless, ice-worlds, and deserts through to green and blue fields of alien vegetation snapped quickly across her view, as he did so, he also edited her memory, to give the impression that hundreds of hours had been spent like that.

"Beautifull... just beautifull..." was about all she could say. She leaned forwards, resting her head on his shoulders, more then a little content. "Thank you."

He smiled a little, "Would you like to sit down?" he asked, curiously.

The experence was still swirling in her memory, making her suddenly feel a little woozy. "Yes... that's a good idea..."

He led her over to the nearest chair, and sat, gently gesturing for her to sit next to him. He glanced towards the door again after she sat, and was rewarded with the sight of the minion he'd sent out before returning, complete with a smallish hawk, hooded and sitting on a leather glove on her arm. The bird, being a female, was generally brown, with black speckling and black around the edges of her feathers.

"Is... that what I think it is?"

The grey-blue skinned woman stopped next to them, extending her arm, she wasn't really used to this, but pretended she was. "Yes," the Emperor said, "One kestrel, a female."

"But how... where..." she mumbled before she decided to stop asking stupid questions. "My, she's certainly attractive."

He smiled, and, doing something subtle and calming to the bird to ensure she didn't object to the crowded room, took the hood off. "You can keep her if you want," he added, "I'll find someone who knows how to look after them to send with her."

"Why... thank you. That's too generous of you... Surely you must know I'd feel indebted to repay you somehow."

He smiled a little, "I think that your friendship would qualify as payment enough."

She smiled herself, and leaned over and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder again. "I think I can do that, dear Emperor."

Mephet'ran kept smiling, "I think she has a mate too, in which case, I'll send both..."

This seemed to bring an evil grin to Kes's face. "A mate... now you're giving me ideas..."

"Oh?" he asked.

The dizziness had passed, and she rose to her feet. "Care to take a walk with me?"

"Certainly," he said, standing up, his minion following at a slight distance. Miiko seemed to appear out of the crowd, and followed along beside her. She glanced at the translator, bemused.

"Sheesh. Can't we get a little privacy?" she says to both Mephet and Miiko.

"Privacy?" he asks, "Why would we need that?"

She slipped her arm around his waist, in such a way to keep the two minions from noticing. "Do you really have to guess?" she said, her eyes betraying the deep feeling of passion and lust that was welling up behind them.

He looked at her and frowned, "I'm flattered, really, but... well, I'm a little like the bird over there..."

'Not that look...' she thought. 'Please, not that look...' she lowered her gaze, trying to hide her reddening cheeks. "I'm... I'm sorry."

He smiled, "You don't need to be, I've gone to great lengths to hide such things; you couldn't have known. As I said, were things different, well..."

"I... I..." she stammered, plainly distraught, "Have things... to do... but please, come and vist... sometime." She turned, trying to walk as gracefully as she could towards the exit.

He sighed a little, "I'm sorry too," he said, "Really."

She couldn't hear him, or just didn't want to; her head was swimming, and not paying attention to anything in paticular. She felt more then a little sick, but was grabbed quickly by Miiko as she started to waver. "Goodbye Mephet," she mouthed aloud, almost entirely inaudable above the din of the crowd.

He frowned, shook his head, and went back to the party.

Hampton’s Rules of Etiquette (Third Edition) has just one thing to say about waltzing: “[it]can be easily defined as a most vulgar and common Measure to gain some worldly pleasure, originating as it did with the peasants of Austria ... during this Dance, one grabs his Partner and clutches them as tightly as possible to his Breast, then sets about across the floor at Quick Pace and twirling about in such a Rapid and Sickening manner that it cannot but make any Proper Lady faint.”

That last clause was probably true; but then, women fainted all the time at Iansislean social gatherings. One might even believe that the extremely constricting corsets and gowns into which women forced themselves were more to blame than any dance step, no matter how rapid.

Fortunately, Diana’s loose Huntress’ tunic left plenty of room for breathing, and she set off across the floor with the Field Marshal. Not that she should have known the steps; those were just something that you pick up ‘around,’ usually said with a distracting flip of the hand and a quick subject change. She looked up at him as they danced.

“No, no, I’m not. I’m from...far away. But you; I assume you’re from somewhere in the Imperium? I’m sorry if I have trouble differentiating accents, everything here is so foreign!”

Lord Riddrick prowled about leaving in his wake a distinctly chilled awkwardness. ~Noir report. Have you discovered anything intresting?~

Lady Noir paused slightly in her happy solo ballet amongst and around the ballroom floor. ~Yes my liege the one called Daniel has changed his custome and he believes his wife is doing the same right now. From what I felt from her earlier however I think she goes to ah 'fool around'. There is love blooming or trying to bloom between Mephet'ran and a strange one Kestral. I least I think she is called such. There is more intrigue, but it is being blocked by the elf energy present.~

~That is well Noir continue and if possible try to push this Mephet and this Kes closer. It might prove useful later. Director report.~

The Director blended in perfectly with the shadows. ~There is nothing to report however be wary. There are a total of twenty hidden guards within this room and more without. Besides which the hostess has put them all on alert about us. Oh! The Cyper Ceroian spy has just started a commotion upstairs. There also appears to be a very determined HK47ian assasin, but I think they have him on the run. There is nothing else to report.~

Riddrick paused to sent out a mild mind pulse. A few people suddenly groaned or clutched their heads. That was fine more troubling was that the Director was correct. So be it he was well prepared. ~Lady Yume...~

Lady Yume continued smoothly in her waltaz with the courtesy Godmodian. She couldn't seem to remember his name. Robert was it? Oh, well. ~There seems to be trouble brewing between the Duchess of Karjel and Ambassador Lume. It is quite amusing, afterall I dressed up as a witch hunter and voila a witch! Her henchmen-the witch's- are attempting to disable Lume's escort and Lume himself. I have no idea what the issue is about, but I could try to pry deeper if you'd like. It will be hard going, but it could prove benefitial. Oh, and the Eragoth Emperess is being used as an alibi by Lord de Vere. It seems he beatup some little Nazi bastard.~

*All very intresting, but I need more than that.* ~Kittens what have you got for me?~

The cats laid on top of the roof basking in the moonlight and resting from their recent excursion(s). ~Well an HK47 assasign created quite a mess upstairs, which allowed us to transform and steal quite a bit of data and valuables. Lila screwed up by nearly getting caught stealing the diary. Both her and the assasin escaped, but the idiot dropped the book. Some little princess has picked it up, but Mask1-Merandos has gotten to her. Kerceren is unconcious from a severe beating by de Vere who has changed clothes. Two bumbling idiots named Hakings and Terteien are freaking out about being near a witch. Oh and some woman named Liz is mating with Mask2-Eric. However he should finish soon, because her husband is heading their way.~

~Thank you kittens, remind me to kill Eric if he makes it.~ *Damn these boys and their hormones. Oh, well I might as well join Noir on the floor.*

((WN))

Damien narrowed his eyes as he picked out the man drinking the common man's beer. He excused himself from his conversation, and walked over to Bludger, putting his hand on the bar-top and smiling quite politely. "Ah...Bludger. You did turn up...I'm so glad you got my invitation..."

Damien put his hand out. "My name is Damien Black...you may have heard of me..." his lips pulled back even further, showing his teeth.

Bluey nearly choked on his beer as he realised who had invited him to the party.

“Um … hi, your princenessness,” he spluttered, “Sure I’ve heard of you … ”

Bluey cast about desperately for something smart and sassy to say to throw the Dark Prince onto the defensive.

“Fancy a beer, or a tot of the Bundy?” was, unfortunately all he could come up with, as his mind did cartwheels around the fact that Damien had set him up.

So, he thought to himself as he regained some semblance of coherence, let’s see what von Schwafler wants then … he’s certainly gone to a bit of trouble to get me here tonight …

((Phalanix))

A young count, dressed as a banana, reached Michelle first. "Madame, might I have this dance?" He asked.


Maichelle quickly replied saying "Sure." She smiled slightly and made one quick glance at Joshua before turning back to the young count.
Joshua watched quietly still sipping his drink slowly savoring the taste. He kept a watchful eye on the count only because of his lengthy past of never getting along with most of the royalty.

Mephet’ran blinked, and sighed sadly. He hadn’t meant to crush Kestrel’s spirit like that, and, rather oddly, given what his past reaction would have been, a stab of conscience. He decided that he couldn’t really leave her like that, and turned, dashing off after the Indiastani Empress, “Wait!” he sent, a little imploringly, “Please…”

For all his power, he wasn’t exactly emotionally stable.

The Benevolent Ruler Renegade and his escorts are all in conflicting, yet suprisingly coordinated outfits. Renegade himself is dressed in a suit with a long red coat over it. A large red sunhat and red sunglasses serve to obscure his face, making him unrecognizable to anyone not intimately familiar with him. His escorts are dressed in a myriad of costumes, but all of them share one thing. A headband with a piece of metal on the forehead, though the metal plates have varing designs. "Did we miss anything?"

Renegade shrugs, dismissing most of his staff to enjoy themselves, they each silently wander off, leaving the tallest of the group standing next to Renegade. The escort wears a blue jumpsuit with a large vest full of pockets over it. Over his lower face he has a scarf pulled and his headband is tilted to cover his left eye. Renegade nods to his escort and skillfully escapes his watchful eye and begins to dance, quite skillfully for someone wearing such heavy clothing.

The man in the white mask makes his way to the (thinks the bar, where the drinks are though) for another glass of wine. He finished his last one a half an hour ago, so he needn't worry about drunkeness.

For a moment, the duchess stood above Lume's unconscious body.

"I was thinking of something more discrete... Shall we go? I'll need to contact a few... sympathizers."

And thus did she start headed out of the ballroom, preferably to Somewhere Else.

It'd be nice if she could get them to let her contact MISSION, though. After all, being the head of DEIMOS had a few perks.

((Wombat News))

Damien smiled as he looked at the beer. "Indeed....I am a Prince of blood Imperial... but tonight, I am a jester. I can make you laugh, make you sing...make you cry. I can do all sorts of tricks," he said, opening and closing his hands to reveal, in order of appearance, an egg, a feather, a small parrot (which he released), and a single crackling flame which he balanced on his fingers without burning himself.

"With a wave of this hand..." he said, making as if to wave, "I can order whole villages destroyed. With a wave of the other one," he did wave the other one, and several men around the bar-table moved to bow, "I can cause proud men to kow-tow...and with a simple snap of my fingers..."

The fire leapt from his hand, and for the keg of beer that Budger had brought. The reporter threw himself to the side, but Damien stood dispassionately as the keg exploded, drenching him with the amber liquid. The Dark Prince smiled truthfully, now. "Oh, dear...your beer seems to have exploded."

He turned, and marched onto the dance-hall, before turning around one more time for a parting shot. "Again," he said, with all the horror that this should imply. "Be careful whom you target, my dear Mr. Budger... some of my tricks aren't so harmless. And some of my men are more protective of my honour than me..."

He was gone, leaving a ring of silence as one of the serving women mourned the loss of a perfectly good keg of beer.

((Kajal))

Hawkings and Terteren took off after her, first putting the boot in a couple of times on Lume. Hawkings caught up with her, wanting to look heroic. "Now...you want to contact someone? Come along, madame... the communications room is this way..."

Terteren huffed, trying to keep up. The tubby soldier did not like over-exerting himself. He managed to keep close behind as Hawkings led her through what looked like a solid brick-wall, to a bank of telecommunication channels. Terteren coughed, presumptuously. "We'll just establish the safest way out of the palace, my lady..."

((Muktar))

A young woman collared him as he passed. "Sir?...I've been...um...I know this isn't proper, but would you..."

((Leetonia))

A group of pretty young women watch Renegade, impressed. Lacking the spirit of their companion, though, they waited for him to take notice...

((Phalanix))

The count led Michelle into a waltz, seeming quite charmed by her. "Madame...if I may be so bold...where does someone as beautiful as you come from?"

The bartender leaned towards Joshua. "My lord, I'd be careful of your friend around him...he might steal her, and I don't think you'd like that... why not cut in for a dance?"

((NiSora II))

Elizabeth walked over to Lord Riddrick. "My lord...I must congratulate you on your entrance to this party..." she said, smiling winningly, now dressed in a simple, but flattering, angel costume. He wants to dance with other women...I'll dance with other men.

Otto von Klyne, Lord Treasurer, saw the young woman dancing on her own. With a simple smile, he walked over and bowed. "My lady...? Might I have the pleasure of this dance?"

((Ianisle))

"I asked because you seem...uncomfortable, madame. Would you prefer one of the simpler steps?" He asked, nodding to the line of women and men marching in a circle, quite rigidly and militaristicly. The Field Marshal twirled her around simply.

"I am...an Aguan, from Roslin. I was invited here to the costume party, yes..."

At the same time, the Imperial Foreign Minister-designate, Charles Blackwood, spotted the ambassador. With a simple movement, he spun around and sat in the chair by the Ianislean gentleman, "You might have been able to fool Simon Darquis, he was already quite old by the time you got posted here... but I'd bet next year's salary that you are the Ambassador from...hrm...the Holy Latin Empire. Am I right?"

((Taurenor))

The elf smiled back at her, leading her into a simple dance. "You are as beautiful as the evening star, my lady...would you, perhaps, be the Elentari? No, even her rumoured beauty is, I am sure, surpassed by yours..."

Diana laughed as he twirled her. “Do I stick out like that much of a sore thumb?” she asked as they came back together.

“And no, no thank you; I’m having a splendid time. I do wish, however, that they’d play something a little more up-tempo; I love this dance, but do feel so silly doing it along to this beat.”

Caesar, who was watching the pair with no small amount of discontent, hardly noticed Blackwood coming up. “I beg your pardon?” he said, more startled than confused. “Oh no, I’m from - well, that is to say, you’re pretty darn close.”

He held out a hand, determined to hold his disguise against all comers. “Gaius Iulius Caesar. And you, sir?”

((Ianisle))

Blackwood took Caesar's hand, goodnaturedly. "Ah, well...Simon always used to say I'd make a bad Foreign...um..." he looked at his pirate costume. "I'm Blackbeard, the scourge of the seven seas..." Well, *that* was certainly original. He followed Caesar's original gaze. "Well, it's always nice to see young people dancing... though that does *not* look like Liz...never you mind." He sat down, and sighed. "What's with the charade, I can't stay in character... some people around here call me the Foreign Minister."

Daniel, despite his best efforts, was enjoying himself immensely with this young woman. He nodded his assent to her request for more up-tempo music, and as they spun around he made a brief hand signal to one of the musicians, who coughed and switched to a different, faster song.

An anguished sound rose from the floor as several couples, confused and alarmed, crashed into one another. The Field Marshal kept a close grip on his partner, though, ensuring that she didn't falter as they spun into a faster, slightly more elegant, waltz.

Diana heard the music swing into a faster tempo. She didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow knew the Field Marshal was responsible for it. She smiled up at him as they twirled faster and faster; how exhilarating!

As they danced through the chaos, Diana managed to spare one thought for John. One thought, and he was gone from her head fast as an arrow from the Huntress’ bow. Right now, the Field Marshal was all that mattered. She felt him holding her tighter, and tightened her own grip in response.

Meanwhile, Caesar was sparing only a passing thought for Blackwood, or Black Beard, or whoever he was. “Quite nice,” he agreed absently, “though I wish they wouldn’t clutch each other so tightly.”

As the other man gave up on his disguise, Caesar supposed that he was expected to do likewise. But, unlike the Foreign Minister, he couldn’t just do that - not when every face was another potential IanCorp spy.

“I’m sorry,” he said after the identity was revealed. “But what did you mean by ‘Liz’ earlier? Pardon me if I missed the reference; I was not pulled together upstairs.”

Blackwood paused. "Why...if I'm not mistaken, that would be...hrm...I could get in trouble...but that might be the Light Prince... why do you ask, sir?" He looked concerned. "Ah, I'd think it's all in good fun."

The Field Marshal tried to focus on Liz, but images of her vanished as fast as they came, and soon all his thoughts were on this dance. His hands held Diana carefully, as if she was made of glass, yet also slightly romantically, intimately. He smiled down to her, looking into her eyes. "You dance very well," he whispered to Diana.

She had made it to the foyer before turning to finally address him; she hadn't really expected him to follow, but he persisted, so she waited untill they had a small bit of privacy away from the hall.

"What did you expect, leading me on like that?" she voiced angrily. "We have feelings too, you... you..." she hesitated for a second, not wanting to say something she'd regret. Hot tears were streaming down her cheecks, ruining her makeup in what some would find an almost alluring way. Before he could speak, she stepped up, stood on her toes, and kissed him passionetly. She held him only briefly, before letting him go and stepping back. "Goodbye, Mephet," she said aloud again. "Untill next time..."

The white mask looks at the young woman. "I assume you are about to say dance. Lucky for you I have never been one to adhere to some traditions." He gestures toward the dance floor. "Shall we?"

EDIT for grammar.

He seemed a little upset, "I didn't mean to 'lead you on,' I'm very-" he was cut off by the kiss. He, almost instinctively, held her too as she did so, and looked into her eyes... whistfully, longingly perhaps. "I meant everything I said about you," he added, "And yes, goodbye Kes. Until next time..."

Lume had, in the meantime, got up off the floor, looking very much enraged.

His mask had come off, unfortunately, and this brought the standard Kajali longer-then-elf ears into view.

He then made a rather... threatening... remark.

"Roania will PAY for this gross impudence!"

Checking a small device he had concealed on his person, he located a small green dot on a map of the palace that wasn't quite complete.

With the press of a small button, he stalked out, and as he had expected, Blade fighters descended from the skies, escorting a Sorath Gunship. He gave the pilots instructions, and then disappeared back inside. The military craft took to the skies again, waiting for the signal to pick Lume up.

A Sorath Gunship did not maneuver or fly well in remotely urban settings, after all. They tended to play havoc with the air breathing thrusters, restricting the things to slow repulsorlift.

---

"Excellent. Please call me Lirella for now. I've no need of formal titles."

Lirella examined the communcations equipment quickly.

"Open a channel to Menelmacar, specifically, to MISSION. You will say only 'Deimos,' and then I will take over."

Taurevanimë smiled and looked away briefly, knowing he was only flirting with her, she still felt slightly touched. "Grand words kind elf, but I doubt you really mean them. Still thank you Sir?" She spoke as she continued to gracefully dance in his arms, following his lead.

Blackwood paused. "Why...if I'm not mistaken, that would be...hrm...I could get in trouble...but that might be the Light Prince... why do you ask, sir?" He looked concerned. "Ah, I'd think it's all in good fun."

The Field Marshal tried to focus on Liz, but images of her vanished as fast as they came, and soon all his thoughts were on this dance. His hands held Diana carefully, as if she was made of glass, yet also slightly romantically, intimately. He smiled down to her, looking into her eyes. "You dance very well," he whispered to Diana.

Caesar wondered idly at the concern in the Foreign Minister’s voice. “The Light Prince?” he asked softly, not really expecting an answer. He fiddled with his purple sash; it didn’t need adjusting, really, but pulling it this way and that gave his hands something to do besides washing themselves nervously.

He either didn’t sense the entire gravity of the situation, or else didn’t care, because he didn’t drop the topic. “I take it His Highness is married; to this Liz? I ask from idle curiosity, that’s all.” Caesar perched himself on the edge of his seat, waiting for the music to stop.

Diana was tall for a Shieldian woman - who tend, like their men, more towards the miniature - but still short enough for the top of her light chestnut brown hair to tickle his chin. She felt his chin move, and gazed up at him through the masque. “Oh, you flatter me so! Truly, I shouldn’t have danced so well without such an exquisite partner!”

That was true; she hadn’t had a dance she’d really enjoyed this much in many years; since her sixteenth birthday party, at least.

The cormorant-feather robes flapped madly in the wind, as though the bird were shaking water off it as the Sorath and its escort descended. Mephet'ran glowered at the Kajali dropship as it came over the rooftops of the Roanian city.

“What kind of pitiful security is this?” he asked, almost to himself, and slightly to Kes, spinning her around behind him in a smooth motion, for her own safety, though he didn’t know of her past, he would have probably done it regardless. He gestured out, an unconsciously ‘heroic’ pose, and reached outward, a gesture to accompany what he was doing to the minds of the two pilots, which, in metaphor, would be equivalent to driving over a watermelon in a tank.

A large tank.

With extra lead ingots aboard.

At the same time, he randomly surged the onboard AI, destroying its ability to fire, or navigate better than a drunken pilot with a blindfold and one arm tied behind his back. He then pondered turning his murderous attention to the fighters…

Or to the Roanians, who had put the lives of his servants and 'friends' in such peril with their negligence.

The dropship wheeled.

Madly.

The pilots were rather incapacitated, of course, and the remnants of the AI took over, trying to keep the ship aloft.

The first thing it did was ramp up repulsorlift to the maximums.

Not exactly a good idea, especially when the ship was tilted as it was. It nosedived as it found two or three gees worth of gravity pushing on one side of it.

Course, it stopped short of hitting the ground as it started wildly spinning, air breathing jets at full thrust, not caring whether they nicked buildings or not.

Again, the AI ordered too much.

And it started cartwheeling through the sky before slamming into the ground.

Upside down.

It then promptly exploded.

((Phalanix))

The count led Michelle into a waltz, seeming quite charmed by her. "Madame...if I may be so bold...where does someone as beautiful as you come from?"

The bartender leaned towards Joshua. "My lord, I'd be careful of your friend around him...he might steal her, and I don't think you'd like that... why not cut in for a dance?"

"I can barely dance. Besides I'm not worried. Relationships for me never last long. God I hate being the last person in my famly line," he says. "Ever since Kelly killed herself.....," he whispered to nobody as his head lowered for a moment.
Michelle blushed slightly and replied "I'm from Phalanix....well more like New Phalanix....if it is still standing."

Riddrick wondered how he'd possibily get away from this charming if somewhat disturbed woman. "Ah, thank you my dear, but I have been neglecting my duties to my fiance Noir. I really must make amends right now. Please excuse me darling." *Think heavens I escaped.* ~Noir where are you?~ ~I'm being begged for a dance by a mister Otto von Klyne. Oh, and by the way the budding couple Mephat and Kes don't seem to need my help.~ ~Perhaps not but a little amplification of their emotions ought to help.~

On the roof the two shapeshifting cats yawned awaken by the sounds of an aircraft. And out of the interior of the building two figures reacted as well. Suddenly the craft jerked and began to fall. Inside the building Riddrick was doing some magnificant manuvering of himself between Noir and von Klyne. ~Riddrick? If you haven't noticed yet there is an enormous disturbance out here. Mephat has killed the pilots and destroyed the AI of a the ship and it is about to crash.~ ~Wonderful. Wait a minute.~ He quickly opens his thought speak to include the entire group. ~Alright people I want all of you to sent an under-the-radar thought wave of distrust and suspicision along with a timid suggestion to run outside quickly.~

Merandos, who was enjoying a lovely dance with the pretty little Molotavian princess whom he had long ago taken the diary from, was a little unnerved by the sudden message though he didn't let it show.
~Yes, sir.~ He reported back tersely. He instantly began which caused a few strange expressions from the people near by him. As one it seemed the people near him seemed to begin to move toward the door.

From all around the ballroom others began to do the same as the hidden NiSorans did their work. All except Eric passed out upstairs in the messy bed he'd recently made love in.

:arrow:

Trojk smiled at the going ons with the guests. However, scant information was gained and there were more important matters to attend to. After exchanging pleasantries with the host, he departed.

Most strange customs in different lands. What would Grandfather think about this?

Trojk smiled at the going ons with the guests. However, scant information was gained and there were more important matters to attend to. After exchanging pleasantries with the host, he departed.

Most strange customs in different lands. What would Grandfather think about this?

((Kajal))

Imperial Aircraft immediately took to the sky upon the merest sight of the foreign spaceplane. "We order you to turn around, or we will destroy you..." the Thunderbird N-22s wheeled around the Kajali dropships, priming heavy weaponry. "Leave immediately... if you come down to this atmospheric level one more time, you will be destroyed." AA turrets rose from the palace walls, scanning the skies.

Imperial signal sensors detected the signals arising from the courtyard, and Roanian Guards grabbed heavy weaponry. Lume was *not* going to be leaving this country. The first red-power armoured figures reached Lume, and placed their weapons towards his head. At the slightest order, they would open fire. "Ambassador Lume of the Empire of Kajal, you are under arrest on the crime of Breach of Hospitality...you will be taken from this place, and placed under guard, until the Grand Duchess comes to collect you. You will immediately place any communication devices down. Failure to comply will be...painful. The Grand Duchess will be contacted and a request will be made for the elimination of your diplomatic immunity." Not a trace of empathy or emotion came from the soldiers. This was a foreigner...no, worse.

This was a cultural, national, and racial foreigner, who had just broken one of the primary laws of the desert society. If diplomatic immunity was removed, or if the Grand Duchess couldn't be found...

===========

The twin commissars looked a bit concerned at the sound of the lockdown. "Did we have something to do with that?" Hawkings flipped open a channel to MISSION, and waited until the signals revealed connection. "Deimos."

((Muktar))

The woman sighed with relief, and smiled as he took her hands and lead her into a waltz. "So...what brings you here?" She asked, feeling the reassuring bulge in her back pocket that contained her RICP badge.

((Taurenor))

Elleassar smiled himself. "Oh, but what would I stand to gain by lying, madame?"

Nyellon, meanwhile, was accosted by several musicians (some of whom were quite attractive, though human, women) from the academy, each begging him for a chance to study his music.

((Ianisle))

Blackwood nodded. "Yes, Light Prince Daniel Edward Black...heir apparent to the throne of Novar Ohan...no, his grace isn't married, that's just a...close friend of his, Liz Darquis..." he wondered what the problem was, as Ceasar seemed very agitated.

The Field Marshal looked through her eyes, and smiled. "Than you've been neglected...because I'm but an average dancer, I could never have danced so well with someone else..."

Diana blushed, but didn’t break eye contact (or, at least, masque-sunglass contact). She had half the notion to return the compliment, but didn’t want to get caught in a war of praise. Rather, Diana wanted to share her true identity; she wanted to ask the Field Marshal his. She wanted to tell everything and ask everything. To know this mysterious man; to let him know her.

But she couldn’t do that either. Instead, she said “Ah, ah! - flattery will get you everywhere,” with a small smile and a twinkle in her eyes.

((ooc: I assume the dance is over? Just wondering, because Caesar’s waiting for it, so his reply to Blackwell would sort of depend on that. Or, if not, that’s ok too.

Oh, and I’m also assuming that all this super-spy business is happening at another time / out of earshot / whatever. Just so that an otherwise very nice storyline isn’t ruined.))

OOC: Sure, it's over... I'm pondering why it is I'm allowing this super-spy business...hrm... Kajal, we need to talk...

IC:

The Field Marshal released her hand as the music ended, doing so slowly, regretfully... as if he wished to hold on for longer. "I...it...it was lovely dancing with you, madame..." He had rarely been so content as during that dance, but he knew...he knew...Stop being foolish, Daniel...

“Really?” asked Caesar without a trace of his former interest. “How interesting.”

He heard the music start to work down and launched himself from his seat with only a muted “Pardon me,” tossed in Blackwood’s direction.

Diana, meanwhile, let her hands rest in the Field Marshal’s hands for a second or two after he released her. She felt his reluctance, and hoped that he felt hers. After their hands parted, though, she wasn’t too sure what to do with them. Dropping them by her sides wouldn’t do; neither would crossing them under her breasts. Instead, in an almost bashful manner, she clasped her hands together in front of her, hoping for an appropriate amount of dignity and openness.

“I had a wonderful time, too,” she said quietly. “Don’t ever sell yourself short; you’re a marvelous dancer.” She paused expectantly, hoping that he would ask her to dance again. Tradition dictated a different partner after every dance, but she was more than willing to throw tradition to the wind - if only he would ask her!

“Please, Lady Diana, may I have this next dance?” She almost shouted ‘yes,’ before noticing the voice had a Shieldian accent and came from behind her. Caesar’s tone was insistent, and he rested a hand on her shoulder lightly.

“Peter!” she cried, spinning around to the Field Marshal’s side with a gasp. Caesar recoiled from the name like he had been shot.

The Field Marshal blinked as she pulled back and looked at him expectantly. He opened his mouth, thinking he might try for another dance, when he heard her shout 'Peter!'

With an almost casual movement, Daniel tapped his 'baton'. What's going on? With a start he realised that he had thought them to be married, and now...Oh Dear God... He watched the fear and embarrasment in Diana's eyes, and wondered if...Did this man offend Madame Diana's honour? He asked himself, preparing to take some form of punitive action. Maybe I misunderstood...god, what did I do? Daniel, you fool! You were allowing yourself to fall in love with a married woman...

All these thoughts flashed across his mind, but his face remained mostly stoic, except for his embarassed, and slightly saddened, eyes. The Field Marshal regarded Caesar carefully, pondering matters. She's closer to my age than to his, I'd say by about twenty years...only a few nations on the planet would...barbarians. He realised that her honour was at stake, and he decided to step back for this man. God, how foolish of me... He thought, but he didn't move one way or another. As it often did in times of stress, the lilt and musical cadence to his voice became slightly more noticable. "Ah...Emperor Caesar, I presume? I am...Field Marshal Bukharin, of the 7th Grand Army," He extended his hand slowly, past Diana's shoulder, resisting the urge to place his hand on it.

Diana took a half step behind the Field Marshal as his musical voice did battle with Caesar’s Weshieler accent. Most people would consider the Weshielder’s accent to be dignified; only the Shadoranites, with their excessively rapid, choppy, and clipped way of speaking think it a drawl. This has led to Weshielders often being portrayed as bumbling goofs screwing up and waiting for the Shadoranites to come to their rescue in popular culture and the media, quite in opposition to historical or modern fact.

“Field Marshal. I’m terribly sorry, Diana - I didn’t mean to give offense.”

He took Daniel’s hand and shook it. His hands were rough and calloused, but he didn’t look to be much older than thirty or so. His face was wrinkly and tanned, but from the sun rather than old age. His grip was firm, and blue eyes peered from behind the laurel masque. They were most focused on Diana than on Daniel.

“I merely thought perhaps you should like to dance with me before we have to leave,” Peter said, this time directing his comments directly to Diana.

Daniel closed his eyes, wanting to stop this, wanting her to refuse or to refuse on her behalf...but he couldn't. He wouldn't. This was her husband, and...and...I'm a miserable coward, and...but look at the fear in her eyes, the strange way she reacts to him... He didn't like this, something felt...wrong about this situation. And more than just that he had been dancing with a married woman...if only she would say something, anything, he would be able to do something... step aside gracefully, and acknowledging his error, or...or...ordering this man to be taken away, investigated...

I mean...god, I'm being foolish. Right? I have a girl...fri... Out of the corner of his ear he heard Liz laughing out loud, and with a little look sideways through his glasses...

Liz was talking with a handsome Derricksman, who...he just...Did he just kiss her? He did... The handsome Field Marshal half-stumbled as if he'd been slapped, but regained his control and turned passively on the scene in front of him...

((IRC please Roania...))

((IRC please Roania...))

((I see.

KAJAL! DO NOT POST! ANY POSTS YOU MAKE BEFORE WE SPEAK WILL BE IGNORED! TERRIBLY SORRY, OLD CHAP, BUT YOU MAKE THINGS DIFFICULT, AND I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOU!))

“We’re leaving soon, Peter?” The name made Peter-Caesar grimace again, but he didn’t look physically pained again.

“We have to. This is becoming quite the scene - it may even become quite the scandal.”

“Then let it,” she said harshly. “I’m having a wonderful time, Peter - and I don’t care one lick what that old goat, or anyone else, thinks.”

“S- Diana, please!” Peter was pleading. “Keep your voice down!”

Now Daniel did react, drawing his field-marshal baton. Like all imperial issue batons, a simple press of a button could cause a blade to extend. He did no such thing, instead stepping forward and regarding Caesar carefully. The Field Marshal paused. "What's the problem here?" He asked, his voice still friendly.

He moved carefully so as to keep Diana protected without seeming too obvious.

Caesar noticed the drawing of the baton and backed a step away. His tone was still just pleading, even if now it was with the Field Marshal rather than Diana.

“Nothing - there’s nothing wrong. I just don’t want to make a scene and disrupt the party; that’s all.” He laughed nervously.

“But Peter, I’m not ready to leave yet. I'm having too wonderful a time,” said Diana.

“Of course!” he agreed hastily. “Of course that’s fine - another hour, would you say?”

“Until I’m ready to leave,” she insisted. Peter-Caesar’s face fell about a mile and a half and his mouth flapped open and shut without a solid answer.

((I'm off for bed, man - 'till the morrow))

((Wombat News))

[edited - except for the important bits!!]

The fire leapt from his hand, and for the keg of beer that Budger had brought. The reporter threw himself to the side, but Damien stood dispassionately as the keg exploded, drenching him with the amber liquid. The Dark Prince smiled truthfully, now. "Oh, dear...your beer seems to have exploded."

[edited etc]

He was gone, leaving a ring of silence as one of the serving women mourned the loss of a perfectly good keg of beer.

OOC: Roania - it's BLUDGER … BLUEY BLUDGER

IC:

There's nothing in the world quite as mournful as a Wombat News reporter who's just been deprived of his beer.

Bluey sat despondently as the Wallaby Ale pooled and spread around him, gradually soaking through his wombat costume. Pulling the outsize wombat head off and propping it against the bar, he looked about at the sad mess made by the nutcase prince.

What a rooter!! The bloke's gone totally troppo, he thought to himself, as he picked himself out of the mire, and started to brush the splintered remains of the keg from the fur of his costume. As far as Bluey was concerned, only total nutcases did things like that to a bonzer beer like Wallaby Ale!

Still, he grinned to himself. Plenty more where that came from, as he noticed one of the barmen wheeling another barrel up from the cellar.

"Bless ya, mate," he called to the bloke. "Mine's a pint!"

He was determined to stick around now, and to really hit the turps. Things couldn't, he thought, get worse!

And, ho boy, he thought to himself, nursing his rage at what the little ratfink had done to his beer, is that little dag in for a big surprise the next time he reads the paper!

Taking the pint pot that the bloke behind the bar passed over to him ("Ripper - thanks, mate!"), and taking a long drink of the cool amber nectar, he settled back to take in the scene, and maybe to perve a little at all the lovely sheilas …

Kestrel was suprised as Mephet spun her about, not entirely sure what was going on. She flashed a glance over at Miiko, who quickly signed "Aircraft!" to here. She understood, figuring that as the Roanian airforce wasn't normally invited to formal occasions, something strange was happening. It was about then she noticed Mephet's new posture, and felt the tendrils of his mind reaching out to some happless normals somewhere outside. She traced her thoughts out along a similar path, and more or less remotely watched him bring the dropship down. She was impressed.

"Where... where did you learn that?" she said, a little shocked. "I've seen people kill with their abilities, and I believe I could do that myself, but... not that..."

Taurevanimë continued to dance with the elf, not anwsering his question. At the end of the dance, she bowed slightly and smiled. "Thank you for the dance, but there are still a lot of people here I haven't met." She said and looked at Nyellon, smiling a little.
Nyellon was enjoying all the lovely attention he was getting from the women, though he knew not to go to far, especially with a human. He still enjoyed the attention greatly, telling them his music was from the heart, emphasising that by putting his hand over the heart of the nearest girl.

Taurevanimë looked around, trying to find someone unoccupied to talk to.

The man in the white mask smiled behind his mask. "Muktar is trying to open up new diplomatic relations. I was sent here on my nation's interest in new friends."

BIGger :arrow:

((OOC:Dude um kinda ignored here....))

((Taurenor))

The girl who had Nyellon touch her breast gasped in surprise, but didn't look too angry. The others looked jealous of her and a bit scandalised. She looked tempted to hold his hand there, but stopped herself, though not taking any movement to remove him.

One of the older musicians hurrumphed. "From the heart, you say? How did you learn such a fine skill?"

The elf nodded his understanding, and twirled away. Various men, both human and elven, watched Taurenvarime move across the hall, following her with her eyes, none of them wanting to start a stampede towards her.

((WN))

Damien watched Bludger. "Pathetic fool..." he snapped open his cellphone. "Ryker? This is Damien..." he said, talking to the Aguan Nazi Interior Minister. "I want an arrest warrant for Mr. Bludger..." He snapped his hands, and directed a young woman in his employ over to the reporter.

The young, pert, woman tapped Bludger on the shoulder. "What's a handsome man like you doing over here?" She asked, giving him a broad smile.

((Ianisle))

Daniel nodded, not sure what was going on but not sure he liked this situation. He smiled, though, at an idea that would enable him to stay with Diana and sort this mess out, as well as making her happy. "Go? You couldn't go...you might win the costume prize!"

He heard Liz laughing again, and watched her disappear with that man, and his heart went cold.

((Phalanix))

The count laughed delightedly at her answer. "And what do you think of our little country?"

The bartender leaned forward. "How do you know you won't do well, if you don't ask her?"

((Muktar))

The young woman smiled warmly, as he led her through the dance. "You're a very good dancer, sir..."

The white mask nodded. "As are you. So, what brings you to the party?"

"I've lived for atleast 120 years. Seen thousands of battles but I have two left feet. Hell I've even been blown out of buildings but I can't dance. I just find it ironic that a simple thing as dancing I can't do but making homemade C4 I can do in minutes," Joshua replies with a smile now on his face.
"Relitivly quiet. Besides I did some reading in the data base before I came. Kind of funny how our countrys were almost at war when only a single woman stopped it all. And even more surprizing was that she only had one brother and people think he is still alive today," she replies before she shoots a quick sidewards glance at Joshua just trying to remember where she saw his face before.

“But we - the costume prize?!” Peter-Caesar asked, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation cracking him at last.

“Oh yes,” nodded Diana, catching on at once. “You’re a sure fire to win, Peter. Just do your, ahm, quotes. And such. They’ll pick you in a heartbeat.”

“My quotes.”

“You know, the ones you were annoying me with the whole way here - eh tu, Brute, and all those.”

“et tu, Brute,” corrected Peter. “Come on, Sarah, this isn’t French. You have to pronounce that ‘tee.’ Besides, I never used that one. Most scholars agree that Caesar probably would have been speaking Gree-”

“See, Peter, you’re perfect. Now run along.” Diana looked to Daniel to extricate them from the situation.

((Ianisle))

Daniel nodded. "Absolutely...I hear the prize is something quite good. Mo...the Kaiserin apparently spent thousands of Imperial Marks on it." He gestured aimlessly with his baton. "Why don't you take a break, sir? Have a drink? Mingle?"

He waved over a waiter. "My dear Mr. Caesar...I suggest that we have a drink, calm down, relax...this is a celebration, there is no reason for you to be so jumpy...I'll have a talk with Her Imperial Highness..." His words were clumsy, but still musical. Hrmmm...I still don't like this...something is definitely not right here.

((Muktar))

"Oh? Me? I...I'm...I'm a Servant of the Imperial Diadem...I was invited here, sir..." she said, relaxing into the movements.

((Phalanix))

"Ah...but Kelly was a very special woman, from what I hear, madame..." the count said, charmed despite himself. "As are you, it appears..."

The bartender tisked. "Sir, I strongly suggest you cut in...the worse she could do is say no."

"Years upon years of practise, always listening to your heart." Nyellon said and looked at everyone around him. "Anyone care for a drink?" He said and smiled, almost certain that they would all want one.

Taurevanimë felt the eyes looking upon her, not minding it at all, but still curious as to why they were looking at her. She ignored them for now and spotted a man dressed some what like Ulmo. She smiled and slowly and gracfully walked over to the man. "Greetings, I am Taurevanimë Wintiliel Hendulaica nos Fingolfin." She said, her fair voice seeming to overpower all the other sounds for that man.

"Where did I learn that?" he repeated, "I'm self taught. he sent, casually. "Perhaps we should find somewhere quiet inside. I'm sure I can find more to show off with..." He said and sent with a little grin.

Asirnoth blinked. He looked at the elf, and smiled, just a little.

"I know," he said, "I saw you at that Thelasi thing."

OOC: Hope it's not too late for me to jump into this. If it is, let me know and I'll back out. Looks like fun, though.

IC: Diplomatic Envoy Sunflower Masterson of the Serene Republic of Andolai managed to sneak her way into the gathering, hoping no one would take note of her unduly late arrival. Difficult enough with Andolai being the new kid on the block, no reason to seem overtly rude to her hosts.

She smoothed the latex of her catsuit and sighed. At diplomatic gatherings, you will be at times forced to deal with representatives of less socially progressive societies and cultures. Therefore, it is best to wear clothing at all times at such functions she recited to herself mentally. Stupid Diplomats' Handbook. Her Lady Godiva outfit was somewhat predictable, but far more comfortable.

Sunflower pulled at the latex thoughfully and gave a quick glance into a wall mirror to make sure that her whiskers were straight. Behind her she saw the reflections of several male heads (and not a few females) pointed in her direction. She smiled as she pretended to check her manicure.

This could prove to be an interesting night, indeed.

"Ah yes. Asirnoth, is it not?"She said and tried to look through his costume. "How do you fare?" She asked him and smiled.

(You sure Ro?)

((Taur, he was talking to Indy...sorry. I'll post something in a minute, I swear.))

The white mask nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you, then."

Caesar wasn’t stupid; he knew they were just trying to get rid of him. He stared long and hard at Diana, then broke his gaze and returned it to the Field Marshal. “Thank you, but no thank you. I’ve just had a drink up the bar and ought to wait a while. Moderation in all things.”

He bowed slightly at the waist. “I do, believe, at the risk of being rude, that I shall take my leave. Diana; Field Marshal Bukharin; I hope you enjoy yourselves the rest of the evening.”

((WN))

Damien watched Bludger. "Pathetic fool..." he snapped open his cellphone. "Ryker? This is Damien..." he said, talking to the Aguan Nazi Interior Minister. "I want an arrest warrant for Mr. Bludger..." He snapped his hands, and directed a young woman in his employ over to the reporter.

The young, pert, woman tapped Bludger on the shoulder. "What's a handsome man like you doing over here?" She asked, giving him a broad smile.

Bluey was doing a lot of choking tonight, and managed this time to spill the rest of his pint over the parts of his costume that weren’t already soaked in Wallaby Ale.

Crikey, he thought, this sheila’s gotta be nuts .. she comes waltzing up to a short, fat bloke dressed in half a wombat costume liberally doused in beer, wearing 6 inch platform shoes, and with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp, and she calls him ‘handsome’? Ah, well, no accounting for taste, and she does look like a mighty fine sheila … ”

“Ah, well, you know, just hanging out, shooting the breeze with me old pal, Damien von Schwafer .. ”

The sheila looked blankly at him. “Von Schwafler … von Schwafler … I don’t think I know a von Schwafler … ”

“Ah … well … umm … well … you see … ”

Bluey decided to change tack. She seemed nice enough, and that monkey Damien had buggered off somewhere nattering into his cellphone, so it looked like the crisis was over for the time being.

“Hi. We’ve not met, obviously. I’m Bluey … Bluey Bludger … you might have heard of me .. ?” he said cheerfully, thrusting out his right paw.

“No, can’t say that I have .. ”

“Oh, right .. well, I’m the Wombat News bureau chief for Roania, and von Schwafler is the name we coined for that tosser Damien - you'll need to check your German dictionary for what it means though. One of our copywriters thought it up, and …”

Bluey stumbled to a halt. The sheila had gone bright red, and exploded in peals of laughter (very prettily, it must be said!) at this.

“You?! You?!!! You’re the one that been writing all those funny articles about the Nazos (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=144720&start=0&postdays=0&postorder=asc&highlight=)?” More hilarity ensued, and people began to look around and smile and point at the young lass convulsed in laughter with the beer-drenched wombat-clad journo. “You have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused with your reports, do you? The Dark Prince is absolutely furious with you.”

Bluey managed a wry smile, as he tried vainly to manoeuvre the sheila away from the bar to somewhere more unobtrusive. He definitely preferred to observe, rather than be the centre of attention himself!

“Erm, yeah, well, we just report the news .. freedom of the press and all that, and, well, our readers seem to like it …”

“Well, you’ve certainly stirred up a hornet’s nest in the government, you know? The Dark Prince is simply hopping mad with you .. did you hear that he wants you shot?” she confided conspiratorially in Bluey.

Bluey sighed, thinking that Damien was nothing if not predictable, but the young lady certainly had her rather obvious (given the dress she was wearing - or not, depending on how one looks at these things) charms, and she seemed to be interested in him. Catching the barman’s eye, he ordered another drink for himself and one for the young lady ( “G&T? Why, certainly, miss!”), Bluey settled in for the long haul, turning the full glimmer of his personal magnetism on her, and struggling hard to overcome the personal eau de Wallaby Ale scent that was becoming more obvious as the evening wore on.

"So, I don't think I caught your name .. "

Michelle blushed slightly and replied "Well I knew her brother about 7 years ago." Joshua remained quiet as he listened to the two talking and bringing up his long dead sister. His head fell a few inches and a single tear fell from his eye that he quickly brushed away. "I will in a moment....." he quietly replied.

Sunflower wandered over to the food table, carefully picking up a strawberry between two fingers and nibbling on it. She looked around the room with some interest.

You don't need to actually talk to anyone, she mused. Enough that you put in an appearance and take off. And remember to keep the mask raised to your face, it's part of the custom.

Everyone seemed to have already paired off. Sunflower sighed in a combination of disappointment and relief. Perhaps no new bonds would be forged tonight, but at least she wouldn't have to deal with the ever-prevelant diplomatic doublespeak. No one ever seemed to say what they meant.

Don't notice the lady in the catsuit who's in over her head she thought furiously. Don't, don't, don't.....

De Vere had successfully managed to loose the last woman he’d approached, apparently she didn’t notice him. He looked around for a moment, and spied a seemingly young woman in a… catsuit. Odd. He walked over to Sunflower Masterson, having disposed of the mask, and resisted the urge to smooth his artfully greyed hair. She seemed to be leaving. He seemed to only notice them as they were leaving. Irritating that.

Asirnoth smiled at Taurevanimë, “Indeed, I am well, somewhat better than our last meeting. May I ask the same of yourself?”

OOC: I didn't say that she was leaving. If that's a hint that I should get out of this thread, though, I'll take it. Don't want to break any rp ettiquette. Still new at this, trying to not be a n00b.

OOC: I didn't say that she was leaving. If that's a hint that I should get out of this thread, though, I'll take it. Don't want to break any rp ettiquette. Still new at this, trying to not be a n00b.

Oh no, not at all, my mistake. I'll assume he's just being pessimistic IC. :wink:

OOC: Cool, thanks.

IC: Sunflower glanced over at the older gentleman as he began to approach her, then seemingly thought better of it and turned to speak with someone else. Distinguished looking, like a diplomat was supposed to dress. All of the fashion advisors in the world hadn't been able to break her of the usual hippie skirt and peasant blouse...well, until tonight. From the looks of things, people in these circles seemed to dress a touch less provacatively than her current look.

Ah, well. Perhaps she could use it to her advantage. Taking a moment to catch the distinguished man's eye, she gave him a smile and subtle wink, casually raising a glass of champagne in his direction.

Time to break out of her shell. International politics demanded it.

He was a little dismayed at first as the younger woman turned away, but smiled back as she turned to him again. He stopped a little way from her, and briefly wondered how to introduce himself - she didn't seem all that comfortable with formality. After a moment, he extended a hand, "Hi!" he said.

((Apologies for the shortness of the post.))

Meanwhile, Lume had enjoyed his stay in the Palace's brig/dungeon/applicable noun.

Four and a half hours, and then he recieved word that he was being transported.

Back to Arda.

It seemed that the Emperor had pulled a few strings, and if he read what had happened right... Roania would be getting four multi-role fighters from Kajal.

At any rate, he'd be in a better position to find that Duchess.

---

As soon as the channel was open and the codeword mentioned, Lirella took over the comm, and apologized to the commissars.

She only made them temporarily deaf.

After a brief sentence of Marikan, followed by the appropriate version of Quenya, they could hear again.

((IRC please Roania...))

((I see.

KAJAL! DO NOT POST! ANY POSTS YOU MAKE BEFORE WE SPEAK WILL BE IGNORED! TERRIBLY SORRY, OLD CHAP, BUT YOU MAKE THINGS DIFFICULT, AND I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOU!))OOC: Did you check first?

OOC: Yes. We had a bit of a discussion on the matter.

Taurevanimë smiled. "I am well too. I hope you like my costume." She said and turned around and looked over Asirnoth's costume. "Your own looks very well. It's almost Ulmo, but still not him." She said.

Sunflower turned towards the dignified man and reached out her hand as well, remembering at the last minute to turn it in the more traditional fashion. "Hello," she stated with a calm smile. "I'm glad someone took the time to greet me; I was beginning to feel a bit lost here"

((Taur))

-Um...no, looks like I was wrong.

*Roania thwacks himself-

The crowd of musicians all nodded as one at the thought of the drink, though a few of them wanted Nyellon to sing once more, and a few of the woman wished him to ask them to dance. The older musician seemed scandalised at the mere thought of someone being self-taught, and his mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

((Muktar))

"No, it is a pleasure for me to meet you..." the young woman scanned his costume. "Interesting...what are you meant to be?"

((Ianisle))

As Caesar took his leave, Bukharin turned to Diana. "I'm most dreadfully sorry, it seems I was...a bit rude there..." he looked embarrassed. "Um...your husband, madame?" He asks, wanting to make sure, feeling absolutely wretched, but unable to put his suspicions out of his mind.

((WN))

The young woman smiled at the reporter. "Well, we seem to have drawn a crowd...why don't we slide somewhere a bit more comfortable, my dear Mr. Bludger?" She ran her hand down his arm, and pouted a bit. "You'd think all these people would stop being so rude..." she said, her voice rising just a fraction of a decibel.

As one, everyone around the bar found something else to be doing than staring at Bludger. She smiled. "Some people call me Kathryn Finsternis, Mr. Bludger...or may I call you Bluey?" She smiled seductively, gesturing to an open doorway. "Let us leave these rude people, and find someplace...private to talk, shall we?"

((Phalanix))

The count continued to talk to her absentmindedly, about such things as the weather, the dance, the company. He smiled. "So...I assume you'd be in the military, then?" He asked Michelle, changing the subject from one which could raise lots of hackles in the ball.

The bartender sighed, and returned to work. Poor young man...knows what he wants, is too scared to get it.

((Kajal))

Kaiserin Malissa Black had sent with Lume an absolutely furious letter, decrying his actions. She raised her right hand, and several Roanian Guards snapped to attention, and with a single flick of her wrist she sent them to find the Grand Duchess. She hissed to them, "Your lives hinge on finding her, men...don't fail me."

Prince Consort John seemed a bit uncomfortable with the action that Malissa was taking, but he kept his silence, instead keeping a close watch for his younger son and his minions.

=============

The dropship landed at the Sunset Isles Munincipality Airport, and Lume was unceremoniously ejected. The captain pointed to a large Ardan standard. "The embassies are over there, sir... enjoy your trip."

=============

The commissars blinked. "What just happened?" Hawkings asked, a bit confused.

Terteren shook his head. "Must have blacked out a..." he watched someone pushing against the door. "Shoot."

"Open in the name of the Kaiserin!"

Hawkings looked around, and spotted another door. He grabbed Terteren by the shoulder and took Lirrella's hand, and pushed through it, ending up in the East Wing of the palace. He sighed. "Okay, now where do we go from here...?"

The white mask meerly shakes his head. "Nothing, really. I heard 'masquerade', so I figured I just needed a mask. Didn't think it would be a full-out costume party."

"Um...your husband, madame?"

"My husband? Peter?" asked Diana with a laugh. "Oh, heavens, no! An old friend. We've known each other since childhood. He didn't think it proper for me to attend at all, much less unescorted. Maquerades, to his reasoning, are immorality itself."

Lume, of course, headed for the Kajalan embassy of the clustered group of buildings, and disappeared inside.

---

"This palace does have a landing pad for shuttles, does it not?" Lirella asked. "If they're coming, we have to get to such a facility..."

And if MISSION didn't show up, the Duchess could probably get some sort of transport from the Roanian government.

Since she didn't know Lume had been removed from the country, she was still rather... careful.

((Muktar))

The agent laughed and ran her hand down the mask. "It looks nice...though I wonder what you'd look like underneath..." she flushed behind her large sunglasses, and looked disappointed as the music ended.

((Ianisle))

Bukharin almost fainted. He turned white and put a hand on the pillar for stabilisation. He briefly gasped for air, but soon managed to get himself back under control. "Oh...my apologies..." he said, embarrassed. "Um..." he looked around, hearing the music start up again. "This is frightfully beyond tradition, but...would you care for another dance, Diana?" He asked, wanting safe ground.

((Kajal))

Terteren and Hawkings looked at one another. "A...shuttle-port? We could commandeer a shuttle, no problem, Ms. Lirella...but it seems like..." a channel on their comms opened up.

"Commissars Terteren and Hawkings, this is Lord Captain Tifling...you are to find the Grand Duchess of Kajal and place her under arrest."

Hawkings closed it quickly. Both he and Terteren gulped. "Um... we'll...have to find another way to get you out of here...and we..." Hawkings paused. "Oh, dear..."

Terteren's eyes widened. "The Undercity?"

"Yep..."

The white mask noticed the music stopped, then slows the dance to a stop. "It's a more fine crafted guise than you'd think. My hair is really white."

“Goodness! Are you all right?” asked Diana, her brown eyes full of concern, as Bukharin put his hand against the pillar. Her hand came up and met his back and she turned her whole body towards him. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean; oh, dear.” Diana too heard the music start.

“There are times,” she said, “that I find tradition exists only to be flaunted. I can think of no thing I would like to have better than another dance.”

((Ianisle))

Daniel took her hands in his , and smiled. "My apologies...I had been...it's not important, madame..." He released a hand, and snapped a finger. The music switched to something less martial, more bright and romantic... in sort, more of an actual dance music. "Shall we dance?" He asked, smiling below the sunglasses, tipping his hat to her.

((Muktar))

"Ah...like Malissa? Or Damien?" The dance had ended, but the agent showed no wish to vanish from his side.

The white mask shrugs. "I wouldn't know. The hair color is an ethnic quirk in Muktar."

Diana laughed as the fingers snapped and the music changed. “That’s quite some trick, Field Marshal.” She took his hand and rested her other gently on his shoulder. The closeness was wonderful; Diana couldn’t remember just how Iansislean courtship, with its regulated formality and strict three-foot gap, worked.

((Muktar))

She looked around, and then pointed out a tall man in a jester costume, haranguing several other costumed people. "I think that would be Dark Prince Damien."

The jester took off his hat, and smoothed back white and black hair. The agent turned back to the man. "You're more attractive to look at, though."

((Ianisle))

Bukharin smiled, and placed one hand around her waist, loosely, cautiously. The two started to dance around the room, Bukharin staring into Diana's eyes, or at least, her mask sockets. What an absolutely charming young woman... He thought. Should I tell her who I am? Dare I?...

Dancing was just as wonderful as she had remembered it. Every step seemed the perfectly logical extrusion of the previous; it was as if their motor control was hooked up to a single central nervous system.

Supporting that hypothesis was the fact that Diana had the exact same thoughts Bukharin did. But look at the way he reacted when she told him she wasn’t Peter’s wife! If she told him that she actually was married! - he might walk away, and she’d never see him again. Diana didn’t want that.

So she gazed into the impenetrable sunglasses instead, wondering what color the Field Marshal’s eyes were.

Bukharin sighed, and looks down at the gorgeous woman in his arms. He feels awful about lying to her, but the knowledge she wasn't married made him feel hopeful. The dance was perfect, he enjoyed every moment in her arms.

He sighed, and looked down at her. He hated lying to people he loved, and...he was starting to put this young woman into that category.

Withholding the truth isn’t really the same as lying,[i] Diana rationalized to herself. She wanted to find out all about this man, but every question was a potential disaster. It could be answered and followed by a question directed at her; perhaps even something disastrous such as ‘are you married?’ or ‘what’s your name?’

She pondered for a moment making up a false identity, heaping a third persona on top of Sarah Caddick and Diana the Huntress. But this man was so sweet; he deserved better from her.

[i]Maybe I can get a divorce before the dance is over.

((I'm off to bed, man. Later!))

Bukharin sighed again, deeper. He wanted to know more about the relationship between Diana and Caesar...but he couldn't ask her. That would be rude, and he prided himself on his politeness. He found a safe question. "So...what do you think of Our Divine Imperium?" He asked her, softly.

[ooc: Sorry, have had trouble posting and was a little busy at the end of the week.]

Gehenna smiled at Rachel, she looked pretty as a fairy, but then she remembered how she herself hated all the times she had to be dressed up in some costume or other than her parents wanted her to wear, and then the countless guests who spent the evening telling her how cute she looked.

“It is a very nice costume, and I always thought it was a good idea to get through all the traditional costumes while still young, before turning to others.” She looked at Lord Stratton and laughed, recalling some of the things they had both been forced to wear as children.

Running her eyes again over the crowd, she watched the different characters strolling past, and caught sight of people dancing. She smiled, her eyes shining with enjoyment. “I haven’t danced in an age, I must persuade you to accompany me in one later, Val.” She watched him nod his head and smile his acceptance.

Nyellon smiled and asked a waiter to get them some drinks, he din't really care what they were. He then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, imagining himself somewhere far away and long ago, the place and time from which his next song was.

Ingaran Eldaron Artanáro.
Nandari lirir nainala seo:
Métim' ardarya vanya, latin né
Imbe i Oronti ar Eare.

Hyandorya anda, ehterya maica,
Sílala carmarya haiya cenna;
Menelo eleni únótime
Nalle ner telpina turmaryasse.

Mal andave yá erye oante,
Masse maris úquen ista quete;
An lantan' élerya mornie mir
Morinoresse ya lómi caitar.

He sang beautifully and methodically, all the while having his eyes closed and head lifted up high, seeming as if ready to jump away to where this poem was.

Diana laughed softly. “I’ll bet that’s what you say to all the girls.

“It’s different,” she expanded after a couple minutes. “I’ve lived most all my life doing the same thing; thinking the same thing; being the same place. But I’ve only been here a month or two, not nearly long enough to - ” There was a brief second of hesitation in her voice. “- understand it or its people.”

The split second of hesitation was the reflection that she had just messed up. Would the Field Marshal associate her with the newly arrived Shieldian diplomat?

((Ianisle))

"Madame, you wound me!" Bukharin said, laughing. A month or two...a month or two...I can't quite place the accent, and I'm not entirely sure what that could mean... He smiled, and tightened his grip slightly around her waist, still leaving it loose enough so that he couldn't be misconstrued as being overly forward...then he would lose face. "Ah, well...perhaps I could arrange for some of my staff, maybe even myself, to take you on a tour?" he now hesitated, for just a fraction of a second. Hrmmm...well, Field Marshals have staffs too, I shouldn't be worried that she'd...you know, figure out who I am... "The cities of Agua are particularly...nice this time of year."

((Gehenna Tarterus))

Rachel didn't look happy. Her little gauze wings fluttered a bit, mechanically, and she sighed. "Mother said I should be thankful to be allowed at parties...she says Grandpa never let her go to masquerades." The little girl curtsied, hurriedly, at the sound of an old woman's voice, and looked around then. "Oh, no...it's Mrs. Darsel. I need to hide...don't tell anyone I was here, okay?" She added, leaning forward conspiratorialy.

((Taurenor))

The musicians applauded, but scattered when two men in business suits started to walk over. "Bravo! Bravo!" The tall, thin one said.

The short fat one blinked blearily. "Oh, yes...good show, wouldn't you agree, Arnaud?"

"Indeed, Freidrich..." they regarded Nyellon carefully. "I say, sir...have you ever sung professionally?"

Nyellon smiled and knew emediatly what the two men were after. "Well since I was young I performed for money, and because of my reputation I was often a guest at royal courts to grace them with my voice. So I think you can say I have." He said and took a bit of an arrogant posture.

"Undercity? Is that a... bad... thing?"

The duchess paused ever so briefly to consider what might have happened in the "undercity" to elicit such responses, and the first thing that came to mind was the Imperial Torture Chambers on Kajal Prime.

Their policy was to ask nicely and then shoot, slice, smash, bludgeon, or beat the subject to death.

It was... messy.

"We've no other choice, do we?"

She would have started moving again, if she knew the way.

"Which way, exactly?"

"Ah, well...perhaps I could arrange for some of my staff, maybe even myself, to take you on a tour?" he now hesitated, for just a fraction of a second.

I would love to! her inner monologue screamed. Diana felt him move closer, felt his hand readjust on her back. “A most intriguing offer,” she said, moving her hand from the top of his shoulder to the blade. “Am I to assume we won’t be traveling incognito?”

She too wondered about his pause, but ascribed it to simple nervousness. After all, this was hardly a Shieldian ritual courtship - every step was taken without a preordained result.

"Tell me about the cities of Agua."

((Kajal))

"Err...the undercity used to be a city under the city. All large imperial cities had them. The Stronghold one closed down, though, and it's used now primarily for drug-running and mutant lairs and their ilk...the problem, though, is that the entrance in the palace is through the...," Hawkings gulped, "training room..."

Terteren sighed. "Well...nothing for it. This way, madame..." the two commissars walked down the hall-way and stopped in front of a heavily boarded up doorway. "Lirella, are you...um...claustrophobic, afraid of blood, or easily shocked in anyway?"

((Taurenor))

Arnaud nodded. "My dear sir...have you considered joining the opera?"

"Yes I have" Nyellon said. "But I am happy where I am, more happy then I ever was at the opera. Now please sir, could you go away? You scared off some lovely company I had." He said and looked around for the waiter with the drinks.

((Ianisle))

Bukharin chuckled, drily. "I'm afraid that my face is...fairly recognisable without my costume, Diana..." he said, and then he blushed as he realised he had made a mistake. Hurriedly changing the subject, he coughed. "Um...yes. The cities of Agua...picture massive spires of cathedrals, rising into the air...huge towers of castles and skyscrapers...and markets, painted markets...in Port Agua, the embassies of all nations down one row...anything you can imagine..." He paused. "Or, maybe you'd prefer the deserts of Roan? The old city of Tarnaqin, with the Patriarch's Cathedral of the Sands... the many-coloured dunes, the people...or the mountains of Derricks? Snowing? Hunting? It's..." he blushed even deeper. "I'm sorry, I sound like an advertisement. I'm probably not very good company, madame, I'm afraid..."

((Taurenor))

The two producers looked shocked as Nyellon walked away. Some of the girls had gathered around the central table, and one or two of them flushed at his approach.

“Fairly recognizable?” asked Diana, in more of a curious tone than an accusative one. Just for the briefest second, she wondered if perhaps Bukharin would be afraid to be seen with her in public. That thought, fortunately, she quickly pushed away. Why would he invite me on a tour if he didn’t want to be seen together? Before she could articulate a question on the subject, however, he was off describing the many sights of a culturally rich society.

"I'm sorry, I sound like an advertisement. I'm probably not very good company, madame, I'm afraid..."

“No, no!” insisted Diana. “It’s all very interesting; indeed, this country offers more than I could have realized.” Not unbelievable, given how John’s kept me locked up in the embassy. And it’s not like the Shield’s educational system exactly stresses other countries or other ways of doing things.

“I haven’t seen snow since I was a little girl,” she thought out loud after a minute. “Dad used to take us camping up in the Gap --” Another pause. ‘The Gap’ referred to the Noropian Gap, a hundred and thirty mile long high alpine pass connecting the Great Shield to the Noropia. Not, of course, that the reference would be familiar to anyone who hadn’t lived in Iansisle. “-- and, well, that was some time ago,” Diana concluded, getting her last words out quickly as if to make up lost time.

Bukharin shook his head. "It's just that I'm... a rather...well-known person. It's hard for me to go incognito, and besides...that's the type of thing my b..." he stopped himself, and then continued rapidly, "attalion commander from my days in the rank and file forced out of me. It's...well... a bit dis-honest." he stopped, knowing that hiding his identity wasn't particularly honest either. "Sorry, I got a bit confused there..." he sighed, apologetically. It's this woman! She makes me feel confused. Every time I try to think I feel her in my arms, and I know I'm lying! I know it's a masquerade, but...god...it's just what that fool Damien would do.

“No, no!” insisted Diana. “It’s all very interesting; indeed, this country offers more than I could have realized.” Not unbelievable, given how John’s kept me locked up in the embassy. And it’s not like the Shield’s educational system exactly stresses other countries or other ways of doing things.

“I haven’t seen snow since I was a little girl,” she thought out loud after a minute. “Dad used to take us camping up in the Gap --” Another pause. ‘The Gap’ referred to the Noropian Gap, a hundred and thirty mile long high alpine pass connecting the Great Shield to the Noropia. Not, of course, that the reference would be familiar to anyone who hadn’t lived in Iansisle. “-- and, well, that was some time ago,” Diana concluded, getting her last words out quickly as if to make up lost time.

Bukharin smiled at her, and shifted his grip tighter again. "Well...maybe if you're staying for a while, I could show you around...it's rather hard to explain...besides, it must all sound dull to you...I've never left the Imperium..." he sounded embarrassed to admit that.

I swear -- this conversation has more pauses than a William Shatner soliloquy! “Dishonest?” she asked with a wry grin. “Like a masquerade, perhaps? Don’t let Peter hear you talking like that! - he’d try and start a club with you.”

Somehow, despite the pauses, mutual inuendos, and blatant lies, Diana felt more comfortable with this man than she had with any other in her entire life; besides Peter, of course, but he was different. Peter was like a brother; Bukharin - well.

So it was not at all unpleasurable when he tightened his grip again. Diana moved a little closer - by now, they were dealing in fractions of inches rather than the solid foot or more demanded by Iansislean standards - by herself, letting slack into the Field Marshal’s grip.

She heard the embarassment in his voice admitting he’d never left the Imperium. Her husband’s work had carried her all over the western Pacific; nine countriesm including Iansisle, in seven years: all four Tilsitian countries, Japan, China, Gallaga, Calarca, and Chiang Maï.

“I’d love it if you could show me around ...” she hesitated, but this time it wasn’t because of an accidental information slip. “Please, what’s your first name? I don’t mean to pry, but it sounds rather silly calling you ‘Field Marshal’ or ‘Bukharin’ all the time.”

Bukharin smiled, and decided he could tell the truth there, at least. "My name? I am Field Marshal Daniel Bukharin... your servant, my lady Diana." He glanced at one of the conductors, and gave a slight, un-noticable to Diana, wink.

The music slowed and changed once more, becoming romantic, light. Daniel sighed as he looked at the beautiful woman in his arms, wanting to lean forward and kiss her right there. That would hardly be proper, though... He was contented with giving her hand a brief squease as they waltsed slightly, circling the near centre of the room now, just spinning in place. Daniel wouldn't like to admit it to her, but his feet were feeling a bit tired. Still, he felt like he could dance with her for hours...

((WN))

The young woman smiled at the reporter. "Well, we seem to have drawn a crowd...why don't we slide somewhere a bit more comfortable, my dear Mr. Bludger?" She ran her hand down his arm, and pouted a bit. "You'd think all these people would stop being so rude..." she said, her voice rising just a fraction of a decibel.

As one, everyone around the bar found something else to be doing than staring at Bludger. She smiled. "Some people call me Kathryn Finsternis, Mr. Bludger...or may I call you Bluey?" She smiled seductively, gesturing to an open doorway. "Let us leave these rude people, and find someplace...private to talk, shall we?"

“Well, g’day, Kathryn! And of course, call me Bluey!! After all, I get the feeling that we’re going to be very close … ” Bluey leered at her.

Wow, this one’s hot to trot … what’s the catch? Bluey thought to himself as he allowed himself to be gently led towards the door. Not overly happy about leaving his beloved beer behind, but fondly imagining himself to be onto a good thing, he was willing to go with the flow. It wasn’t every night that a pretty, young sheila all but threw herself at him … now, if he’d been Seamus O’Hack, that would be a different thing …

“So, where shall we go?”

“Daniel, then,” she smiled. “Thank you.”

Endurance was one of the first things a proper young lady learned at one of Iansisle’s Grand Balls, where the dancing could (and quite often did) last for hours on end. Diana was more than good to go after about two dances. Still, she had to grin as the music shifted and they dropped out of waltz tempo; every bit of energy not expended on the complicated steps was a bit more that could focus on Daniel.

For one brief second, it even seemed as if the time was perfect to kiss. It wasn’t a clue by voice, motion, or even by subtle gesture or facial expression. It was a certain feeling that radiated from his face; a certain twinkle in her eyes.

But both were too well trained socially to act on just such an impulse. Instead, she turned and leaned her head against his collarbone as they slowly rotated to the romantic score. “The music’s perfect,” she whispered. The entire evening had been perfect.

((Ianisle))

Daniel tentatively started to slow as he cradled Diana to him. He thought of many things, such as how much he had been enjoying their time together, how beautiful this young woman was...how bad he felt to be lying to her. They spun slowly now, for several minutes, both silent, both enjoying their time together.

Finally, they slowed to a stop. Daniel smiled at Diana, a bit tentatively. "Diana, would you like to see the skyline?" He asked.

((WN))

Damien watched, chuckling, as Finsternis led Bludger in. Come into my lair, said the spider to the fly... He pushed it out of mind, and returned to the rather vapid conversation he was having with some of his supporters and 'friends'.

Katherine smiled to Bludger as they entered a darkened hallway, and soon traversed the empty corridors until they reached a large room with many doors coming out of it. She brushed a hand down his cheek. "We seem to be...quite alone now, my dear bludger..." she started to unzip her track suit, showing an inch of skin, making sure his eyes were fixated on it.

She let the tracksuit slide off...and while he was staring at her chest, something smacked him very hard on the back of the skull.

Kes smiled briefly, the tears long dry. She bowed to Mephet as he walked away, and then turned to leave.

"Come on Miiko... we're going home."

((WN))

Damien watched, chuckling, as Finsternis led Bludger in. Come into my lair, said the spider to the fly... He pushed it out of mind, and returned to the rather vapid conversation he was having with some of his supporters and 'friends'.

Katherine smiled to Bludger as they entered a darkened hallway, and soon traversed the empty corridors until they reached a large room with many doors coming out of it. She brushed a hand down his cheek. "We seem to be...quite alone now, my dear bludger..." she started to unzip her track suit, showing an inch of skin, making sure his eyes were fixated on it.

She let the tracksuit slide off...and while he was staring at her chest, something smacked him very hard on the back of the skull.

Hubba hubba! thought Bluey. Things really are taking a turn for the better!!

Then someone turned the lights out, and the world turned black on him.

**********
Sometime later ...

Bluey came too with a thumping headache, finding himself lying face down on a hard, wet, cold stone floor - a natural enough occurence of itself, as he wrote some of his best reports from the gutters.

Aahhh, I've gone blind, was his first thought - natural, really, as he couldn't see a thing. I've really gotta lay off the beers, was the second, followed closely by that must have been a really duff batch to leave me with such a pounding head!!

But reality slowly started to creep in when, as he was wondering where the hell he'd got to, and why the hell he couldn't see anything, he heard a sinister chuckle ...

The white mask smirked. "I'm touched." He speaks in a humorous tone, lightening the mode without sounding mocking. He perks his ear as the music starts up again, this time a romantic tone (reference Ianisle/Roania). "Care to dance once more?"

((Phalanix))

The count continued to talk to her absentmindedly, about such things as the weather, the dance, the company. He smiled. "So...I assume you'd be in the military, then?" He asked Michelle, changing the subject from one which could raise lots of hackles in the ball.

The bartender sighed, and returned to work. Poor young man...knows what he wants, is too scared to get it.


Joshua ignored the bartenders thoughts and quietly finished his drink. He sat there thinking back to his only sister. How happy she was.
"Actualy. I'm not millitary But I come from a millitary family. Insted of joining up with the forces and be trained to become a tool of death I joined the government in the diplomatic sections. I think I could never kill another sentient being," she replied softly.

Diana felt the pace slow and picked her head off his collarbone. She could all but feel Caesar’s disapproving glare boring into her back.

The slight hesitation in Daniel’s voice as he asked her to see the skyline was the most refreshing thing she’d ever heard. No more being taken for granted, no more arranged marriages, no more John Caddick! That was the decision she made in one split second.

“I’d love to see the skyline,” she replied. “Will you take me?”

"DEIMOS trains for a variety of situations. Blood isn't something that disturbs me greatly.

As for claustrophobia, I've lived on Mars for a long time. I doubt there's anything here on earth that'll be worse then that."

(OOC: Hah! Famous last words? ^_^)

((Kajal))

-You'd be amazed how many times someone's typed those words in my threads...-

Hawkings and Terteren forced the door open for the first time in 15 years. Almost immediately, the sickly stench of stale blood wafted out from down a path of long, winding stairs into the depths of the Earth. Holding their breaths as long as they could, the three of them started down, closing the door after them.

Hawkings fumbled along the wall at the bottom, and soon switched on the lights. A red, warm glow shown over...shown over a... Terteren gave a prayer. "Sweet mother of..." The walls were a thick red, shallow in some places and thick in others. The red glow wasn't from any errors in the elderly lamp, but from a semi-translucent red covering of the light. Occasional splashes of white revealed the thought that the red colour was paint for the lie it was.

The two commissars, no strangers to death, stepped back from the symbol on the ground. A black cross, the point facing towards an inset alcove on the wall with an icon of Mary. Written along the bottom, if they had taken the time to look, would be an inscription, also nearly covered in the blood which had splattered and tainted this room. 'All I do is for your glory, Blessed Mother of God...'

Neither of the soldiers bothered to look though, instead tracing along the outer walls for the tell-tale marks of an Under-City entrance. Occasionally they looked up as from a distant corner of the large room, a strange sound occasionally welled up. In the far distance the ruins another stairway, leading even deeper, could be slightly seen in the faint light.

With a sigh of relief, their questing fingers found the door, and a section of wall swung open, revealing ancient catacombs which normally none of them would dare to enter. However, anything was better than the Hell they were currently in, especially now that an uncomfortable sensation of being watched slowly settled upon the three. Hawkings, Lirella, and Terteren rushed through the door, slamming it behind them.

A breeze rushed past them from the room, seeming to hold the sound of the screaming of hundreds of dead souls, souls trapped in agony, and over that, the sound of cold, dry laughter. But it was just a breeze...and it was surely a fault of the aged electrical system that made the lights turn off immediately after the soldiers and their charge had left.

((Iansisle))

Daniel took her hand, gently, and led her over to a set of stairs. He gestured. "After you, madame Diana," he said, smiling. The two of them walked up the stairs, and soon reached a balcony. Daniel placed his hand on a brickwall, and...a door slid shut behind them as hidden motors started to cause the balcony to rise up. Daniel looked at her face and laughed in a way that conveighed apologies, worry, and some love. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to shock you, Diana...it's one of the few things I like about this palace, these surprises... It was built several hundred years ago, and w... the Roanians have been adding things to it ever since." He

He looked out over the city as it started to be spread out before them, lit by the moon and stars. At this hour, there was still activity on the streets. The call of the Muezzin for the faithful to pray to Mecca; the sound of churchbells ringing for a late service...the Micronesian vendors in their market calling out prices and bargaining. Some large stone office towers still had lights on, as people worked late into the night. Beyond the business and religious sections were the various residential districts, dark now, or with occasional lights. And beyond those was a thick wall...and beyond that was the desert, the sands rising and falling to distant mountains. The rising balcony slowed to a hault, giving the pair an incredible view of three sides of the vast Imperial Capital. Daniel smiled a bit, hoping she liked it, wanting her reaction. You need to get control of yourself, Daniel...

((Phalanix))

The Bartender poured Joshua another drink, smiling a bit. "Chin up...maybe you'll see someone to ask for a dance. Someone as handsome as you...it wouldn't matter to the girl if you're not a particularly good dancer."

The count, coming from a fairly militaristic class in a fairly militaristic city-state in a fairly militaristic Imperium, smiled a bit at that. "That's a worthy thing to believe, madame..." he said, gently, "if a bit idealistic."

((Muktar))

She laughed delightedly and placed her hand back in his. "Sir, I would be honoured...it's rare that I meet someone whose conversation isn't all about money or war and so on..." she smiled a bit and looked him up and down. "And mask or not, you are rather handsome..."

((WN))

Damien's voice could be heard. "Ustov, how hard did you hit him? If he's dead, I will execute you myself."

A grunting, primitive voice, which contrasted sharply with Damien's urbane and musical tones, answered. "Not too hard boss, he do be wakey now. No hit Ustov...Ustov done good."

A sigh came. Bluey guessed it was from Damien. "Yes, Ustov...you did fine. Reindhart, Tobias... drink up Kathryn's chest now, because she's going to be covering it. Aren't you, Dark?" Damien's voice sounded coldly amused.

Kathryn's voice sounded, petulant. "What? Don't you like it, boss?" There was the sound of a zipper going up partway. "That's all you're getting."

There was an inrush of air, and then Damien's voice sounded again. "It's amazing...simply amazing. I seek the best and brightest to help me build a new order, and what do I get?"

Kathryn's voice sounded very high up now. "I'm sorry, sir..." she squeaked from a point near the ceiling.

The one known as Ustov grunted again. "Ma said it was bad to hit girls, boss..."

There came another sigh, and the sound of someone being placed back on the floor. Damien's voice sounded a bit tired now. "Yes, Ustov..."

The voice came again. "Maybe you and the lady should kiss and make nice now, yes boss?"

Damien's voice sounded even more tired now. "Honestly..."

The grunt came again. "You really should...other wise you'll fight again. Ma always said that..."

There was another sigh, and then the brief sound of movement. Kathryn's voice sounded. "My, Damien...why didn't you tell me you were such a good kisser?" She said, sounding both breathless and sarcastic.

There was the unmistakable sound of someone restraining himself from inflicting further harm on someone else, and then Damien's voice sounded. "Reindhart, Tobias, Kathryn, we need to go see Kroenen..." the blindfold was torn from Bluey's eyes by a scowling man with a scar across his eye. Bluey could see Kathryn, her top half done up so that her rather charming figure was still evident, Damien, now dressed in a suit with an opera cloak and cane resting by his side, the scar-faced man, a tall, lean man, and the massive bulk of Ustoc. Damien chuckled. "Bluey, I'll be back...until then, though, Ustov here will take good care of you..."

All of them, bar Ustov, left. Bluey's arms and legs were well tied, but if he was anywhere near as intelligent as he believed, he'd be able to trick Ustov. Of course, if he was as stupid as Damien believed...he still had a fairly good chance of tricking the lumbering giant. Damien's vaunted genius appears to have failed him there.

Diana, much to her embarrassment, did let out a brief cry as the door slid shut and the balcony clicked into motion. She laughed along with Daniel, though. “Oh, no - I’m sorry for being so jittery.” She listened while he explained the palace’s history. “You certainly know a lot about this,” Diana said appreciatively. She didn’t mean it in an accusative way; merely that she thought he was some sort of scholar.

For someone raised on the terribly dull cities of the Shield, where twenty stories was considered pretty damn high and the architectural style was a mere hodgepodge of conflicting designs at war with one another, the Imperial Capital was something shocking. She brought a hand up to her mouth in shock. “Daniel - it’s lovely!” she said, her eyes trying to take in everything at once.

((not terribly eloquent or really plot advancing, I know, but I’m pretty damn tired right now. Sorry ;)))

Thw white mask nodded. "When your nation's leader is the military and corporate leader in your nation, talking about that sort of thing can be rather dull."

((Phalanix))

The Bartender poured Joshua another drink, smiling a bit. "Chin up...maybe you'll see someone to ask for a dance. Someone as handsome as you...it wouldn't matter to the girl if you're not a particularly good dancer."

The count, coming from a fairly militaristic class in a fairly militaristic city-state in a fairly militaristic Imperium, smiled a bit at that. "That's a worthy thing to believe, madame..." he said, gently, "if a bit idealistic."


"Not worrying about the dancing. I'm just remembering my sister. A few years ago she shot herself when her lover died. I never got a chance to tell her the news," Joshua replies before he takes a small sip from his drink.
Michelle smirked and replied "It's better to be the lone outsider than a member of the flock. A close friend of mine said that to me when she had heard what job path to fallow. He was right. He was forced into the millitary by his father and only a month after he joined up he was nearly killed several times. For all I know that could have been me."

((Iansisle))

Daniel smiled at her delighted reaction, and tentatively took Diana's hand, walking her out to the edge of the balcony. "I...thought you would like it..." he said, his smile a bit worried. The stars twinkled overhead, and his sunglasses met her masque once more, before he turned away hurriedly, his face burning. The distant sands seemed to glow in the moonlight, as Daniel sought something, anything, to say. He was uncomfortably aware of his feelings for the young woman, and even more uncomfortably aware of the fact that while they were both lying about their identities, his lie was the worst. What might she do if she finds out that I'm the Light Prince?

"..." he turned to her again, steeling himself to put an end to this charade, when he saw something red wheel across the sky out of the corner of his eyes. He turned slowly, and smiled a bit again as he saw several giant red birds wheel across the desert sky in their own dance. The red plumage of the Firebirds shown with a surprising intensity, and their multi-coloured tails glimmered like gemstones. A musical cry reached his and Diana's ears as he pointed the birds out to her..."Some say, you know, that those who see more than one Firebird will be happy in all they do..." he said, half to himself.

((Muktar))

"Hrrmmm..." she said, smiling. "And what nation would that be?"

((Phalanix))

"And your sister would be who sir?" The bartender asked, idly cleaning out a glass.

The count, one of those people who felt that all the lower orders were sheep, wisely held his silence at that, as well. He changed the subject. "So...first time in the Divine Imperium?"


((I SWORE I HAD POSTED THIS!...))

Diana smiled as Daniel took her hand. She felt her cheeks blush slightly, but from happiness rather than embarrassment. She turned and stared into his dark sunglasses, wondering again what color his eyes were. He broke eye contact first and she had to keep in a sigh; moments like that shouldn’t have to end.

The beauty of the scene out laid beneath them and her sudden, fierce feelings for this man knocked the breath out of her. Try as she might, Diana couldn’t say a single thing. Daniel turned back to her evidently with something to say, but his eyes caught something. He pointed out the firebirds to her.

Sarah Caddick had seen many fantastic animals in her time, from the great bison of the Effitian plains to the gravity-defying mountain goats of the Dianatranian desert. She and John had taken a brief outing on elephant back while he had been Liaison to the Company in Nusheld. But even seeing the giant rhinoceros or the majestic strength of the mighty animal on which her howdah was perched couldn’t compare to the wonder Diana felt looking up at those firebirds.

“They’re so graceful,” she murmured, half-unconsciously slipping an arm around Daniel’s waist as they watched the birds fly and cry. “Do you think we’ll be happy in all we do?”

EDIT: I gotta crash, man. Sorry, but I've got to be up for work in six hours. I'll reply to your TG first chance I get tomorrow!

Daniel looked over at Diana and let his sunglasses fall a bit, his bright blue eyes peeking over the rim slightly before he pushed them back up hurriedly. He felt her arm slip around his waist, and slowly, ever so slowly, reciprocated, his arm travelling around her waist and holding her slightly closer. If she was with me...I couldn't see how my life wouldn't be happy... His mouth opened and shut aimlessly, though, afraid to give vent to his feelings.

He watched the firebirds wheel across the sky, and smiled a bit. "I...personally, I've always felt that...life is what you make it...but I've never seen...anything like this..." he said, knowing that he probably sounded very cold and boring, but wanting to fight the urge to just say it all, everything...who he was, how he felt for Diana...

EDIT: Sure thing, mate. See you 'round.

Mephet’ran smiled a little, ignoring the Kajali for a moment, he turned and returned to the main room inside, smiling - verily a picture of happiness he didn’t feel. Asirnoth meanwhile looked at Taurevanimë, “Excellent,” he said, “And thank you for the compliment,” he said, making a note to look up this ‘Ulmo’ person. He suspected that it was one of the ‘Valar’ associated with sea. “I see your nephew has turned up too,” he said, smiling in the manner of a predator about to make a kill, mentally adding ‘like the proverbial bad penny.’

De Vere smiled at Sunflower, “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, “I don’t think the Roanians will object, unless you ‘disrespect their hospitality,’” he added with a grin.

"Muktar. It isn't exactly a scenic nation, but the city is a lively place. Akan Muktar inherited CEOship of his father's corporation not long after becoming High Commander. But that's getting into the usual chat, isn't it?"

((Phalanix))

"And your sister would be who sir?" The bartender asked, idly cleaning out a glass.

The count, one of those people who felt that all the lower orders were sheep, wisely held his silence at that, as well. He changed the subject. "So...first time in the Divine Imperium?"


((I SWORE I HAD POSTED THIS!...))

"You would most likely thing I was lieing," Joshua replied "She was the one who helped bond our two natiosn together in friendship. Insted of millions dead or dieing."

"Yes. Yes it is my first time here," she replied sensing that she was alittle more surprizing for the count by the sudden change of topic

((Know the felling man. Know the feeling...))

Taurevanimë looked back over her shoulder at Nyellon who was walking towards the table with the musicians, she then looked at Asirnoth a little concerned. "Don't you like Nyellon? He's very kind and respectfull you know." She said in a bit of a strict voice.
Nyellon smiled at all the women as he approached the central table. He wasn't really used to women showing their feelings of liking him so openly, but he din't really mind, he was afterall happy to please his crowd. "Why did you all walk away from those two men?" He said as he looked at each of them curiously.

"Goodness whatever gave you that idea?" Asirnoth said, thinking, 'I'll have to get lessons in seeming pleasant from The Messenger.' "Of couse I don't dislike him." Asirnoth added, thinking, 'I do in fact despise the little runt.'

Diana didn’t think it was cold and boring. Maybe it was the fact that Daniel said it; maybe it was this place or the sight of those birds, but she thought him quite eloquent.

“Neither have I,” she replied, her eyes still on the birds. “I guess you could say we haven’t lived until just now.”

((Muktar))

"Well...I wouldn't say that...it all sounds so...complicated." She smiled a bit. "First time here, then, sir?"

((Phalanix))

The count grinned, wanly. "What do you think of it now?" He asked, cautiously.

"Surprise me, sir..." the bartender said.

((Taurenor))

The women chuckled a bit, scared. "Oh...they are our employers...they don't like it when we talk to men whom they haven't cleared... tyrants, the both of them."

((Iansisle))

Daniel looked at her once more...she was increadibly beautiful in the silver light of the moon...the feelings within burned stronger and stronger, and he met her eyes once more.

It was another one of those perfect moments, where all the energy and force in the world conspires to create the suitable urge for the two to kiss. Daniel did his level best to fight it, clearly not considering a kiss won while deceiving, even harmlessly, to be worthwhile. He opened his mouth and closed it, before venturing to try a compliment of some sort..."your...costume looks..." he paused, and then said, in a tiny voice, "nevermind..."

Diana had trace feelings of hesitation about deceiving this poor man; surely, this affair would not last longer than the night. But in that second of quasi-eye contact, suddenly it didn’t matter; she didn’t even really hear what Daniel said. John, IanCorp, Peter, and what the neighbors would think went out the window in that one moment of impulsive behavior. She wrapped her arms around Daniel, and, going up on tiptoes, brought their lips into contact.

((nice timing, man. This was the first thing I saw after sending the return TG ;)))

Daniel's eyes widened suddenly, as he felt her lips lock with his. Then they closed, and he wrapped his arms around her, letting the emotions he had been feeling since that dance, those emotions which had been strengthening consistently, loose in a passionate kiss.

After a minute or two, they released each other and backed away, both surprised. Daniel's heart was torn in two over what he had been doing to this poor woman... "Enough of this charade," he said to her, softly, feeling his emotions return, his feelings for this woman putting an end to any reservations he might have had about revealing his identity..."tell me, Diana...how well do you know the upper nobility of this Divine Imperium?" He asked, letting the gravelly Aguan accent slip once more so that his own, thickly emotional and musical voice could be heard. ...Get a hold of yourself, Daniel...you're taking advantage of this poor woman...it's not going to last longer than the night, you know...when have your feelings and love ever done so?... and if you want this to become anything more than that, you should be the first to place your trust in her...

Diana backed away slowly. She had never had such a passionate kiss, never in seven years of marriage. Well, maybe back when that captain of Dragoons had swept into her sheltered sixteen year old life and nearly swiped her right out of it. But that was just lust, her mother assured her; this was - something different.

"Enough of this charade," said Daniel. It was nearly enough to stop her heart. Were the feelings she had not mutual? "tell me, Diana...how well do you know the upper nobility of this Divine Imperium?" Her heart started beating again, but the flustered look that dashed across her face probably didn’t go unnoticed.

“The - not very well,” she said hesitantly. She could see where this was going; Daniel was someone important in the government - maybe even married! - and he was going to cut off their relationship before it came a proper scandal.

Daniel removed the sunglasses and put them in a pocket. His blue eyes looked at her, meeting her own, the emotion within hopefully putting an end to any worries she might have had. With a simple movement he removed his hat, his thick, slightly combed blond hair ruffled a bit by his actions and the slight breeze. With another simple movement, he picked the badge off his chest and replaced it with another, with the firebird crest on it. His voice became even more musical as he completely dropped the Aguan accent. Instead of the harsh, bitter voice of a career soldier, it was now the urbane, caring voice of an Imperial Noble... "And there, I believe, you have me..." he said, a bit self-depreciatingly.

"Light Prince Daniel Edward Black." Daniel watched Diana, anxiously. What would she do? How would she react?

Diana watched silently as Daniel changed from a Field Marshal into a prince. He was even better looking than she had imagined. Still, however, she couldn’t imagine with whom she had been dancing.

“"And there, I believe, you have me...Light Prince Daniel Edward Black."

How would she react? Like most Iansisleans when suddenly introduced to royalty. She stammered a bit, then gasped out a “Your Highness!” in the Shieldian style.

Some Shieldian women might have been completely reduced to a stammering mass by a sight like that, but Diana had a stronger constitution and force of will than most. She just watched for a moment in awe, and then smiled beneath her masque.

“Truly, it has been an honor, Your Highness [or some form of corrected title]” she said quietly, then removed her masque. Her face had none of the sharp angles and hard lines that characterized East Shielders; rather, it was soft and rounded. She wore her wavy, light brown hair long; it had been held up by the masque and fell down her back when it was removed. Her brown eyes blinked once or twice as they adjusted to seeing without a masque again.

“Sarah Caddick,” she answered his identification. “But, I’m afraid, just plain Sarah Caddick.” She sounded genuinely sad about not having any sort of title to offer him. Damn that officer! If it hadn’t been for the brief, scandalous affair, she might have been able to be married into a proper family, not some lowly, untitled cousin of a baron in the foreign service! Her younger sister had been married to a baronet in the navy; how much better would it have been to introduce herself as ‘Lady Sarah?’

Of course, all this thought about titles and marriage brought back that uncomfortable truth: she was married, and not supposed to be having illicit dances and kisses with anyone, least of all the Light Prince! Sarah wondered if Daniel would connect that ‘Caddick’ to the current ambassador, her husband.

Daniel shook his head. "Just...Daniel, if you please... if I wanted constantly to be reminded of just how...far removed from humanity I am," he said, making his title sound more like a curse than a blessing. He bowed low to her, and smiled as he rose. "It's an honour to meet you, Sarah..." Hrmm...Lady Sarah Black...has an...interesting thing to...where have I heard Caddick before? He scanned her round, attractive face and met her eyes with his own, repeating her surname softly as if trying to place it.

"Caddick...Caddick...Cad...oh, my dear God..." Sheer horror flitted across his handsome features, as in a matter of seconds his world collapsed. "You wouldn't happen to be...um...hrmm...the sister of the Ambassador from The Shield, would you?" Hope rising in his face. Well, of course she is...she's got to be twenty years younger than him...

Sunflower watched as the Ctan Ambassador turned from her to pay attention to other, more important delegates.

Stupid, stupid she thought Why did I think that anyone would really pay attention? I'm not cut out for this at all.

Sighing, she listened to the music and began to sway gently, her costume tail swishing gently behind her. Something about it reminded her of old Andolaian songs of freedom. She sang softly

"And my child...
If you go to fight
Against the armies
Of aggression...

Remember
Hate and darkness
Are the weapons
Of oppression..."

A tear ran down her cheek. She brushed it from her cheek, hoping no one had seen her sudden rush of emotion. Home. If she had been home, no one would have minded. She would have been assured of a crowd of people around her listening, understanding what it was to feel something so deeply.

But if she were home, this feeling of dislocation would not be.

Sunflower sighed deeply, and grabbed a drink off of a passing tray, downing it almost immediately.

((Andolai, he did no such thing...there are several Ctan people..,))

(Sorry...hard to tell when you go a few days with no response, and then he responds to everyone but you. Too bad. I kinda liked my spur of the moment Andolaian folk song. Ctan, how do you want to play it? And I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. I'll edit the post if you want)

"Err... Very nice," he said, reappearing from behind Sunflower, drink in each hand, another grin on his face, "What brought that on?" he asked, extending it to her, and briefly wondering if she was already drunk.

Sometimes, he felt as though a crushing weight rested on his shoulders, and that song didn't help much. He dismissed it as follishness, he was a very 'ends justify the means' type, as he needed to be.

((Aye, there are in fact, five of them here. And, you did get a reply actually, just a rather short one :wink: ))

The white mask nods. "I usually don't have time to travel. The reason I'm here is because my brother is a national hero and we couldn't get enough diplomats for all the events we were going to."

"You wouldn't happen to be...um...hrmm...the sister of the Ambassador from The Shield, would you?" Hope rising in his face. Well, of course she is...she's got to be twenty years younger than him...

Sarah turned her eyes down. “I - believe me Daniel, I really wish that I was. God, how I wish it!”

She heard the shock and horror in his voice. It felt ten thousand times worse than she had thought it would when they were dancing. A secret, it seemed, only got worse over time.

((Phalanix))

The count grinned, wanly. "What do you think of it now?" He asked, cautiously.

"Surprise me, sir..." the bartender said.


"Oh you're in for one surpise. She was Kelly Knightly. More commonly known as Kelly Maxwell. She married Alexander Black and was close friends with his sister," Joshua says "She thought she had two other family members. Echo Maxwell the currentl leader of Phalanix and Phoenix Maxwell the currenct leader of the Phalanix Covert Units. On the day she died she was going to be told the truth. She never knew her parents. And I only recalled them about 1 month before she died when I nearly died aswell," Joshua says.

"Well I liek the fact it is quiet. Back in Phalanix sirens are almost constantly on and the sky above most of the citys is covered with massive space crusiers readying for there jump zones to Reach," she says slightly upset by the images of the massive 2 mile long super crusier Neverwinter bristling with weapons.

BUMP for the many plots afoot.

((Muktar))

The agent nodded, making sure that her microphone was picking up every part of the conversation. "So...you're here for trade, are you? What type?" She asked, trying to draw him out on that.

((Phalanix))

The count laughed. "I wonder why it is you stay in Phalanix if it's so awful?" He asked. "Surely there are better ways to deal with things..."

The bartender paused. "You're right. I don't believe you."

((Iansisle))

Daniel blinked...once, twice, three times...in surprise. His voice, when he spoke again, was that of a man completely in control of his feelings. He didn't sound angry, he didn't sound upset...he just sounded hurt. "You...couldn't possibly...you are....How? He's...he's...god, he's almost as old as my mother!" The Light Prince said, his voice speaking without much in put as his mind tried to fit the idea around in his head. Dear god... His world seemed to have shattered why on Earth...how on Earth?

Sarah hung her head in shame. “I’m so sorry, Daniel. I d-din’t mean to hurt you.” She choked back a sob.

Had her thoughts been a little more coherent, she might have wondered why Daniel thought the age difference was so shocking. Unmarried women from the upper middle classes had to take whomever their paltry dowries could buy. In the case of a middle daughter of a Westerton middle executive who had been engaged in a rather scandalous affair before marriage, the choices were especially limited. Sarah was lucky to end up with someone less than twice her age, any connection at all to nobility, and even the chance for a full ambassadorship.

((Good Lord - let’s play a game. How many times has Iansisle used the word ‘scandal’ or ‘scandalous’ in this thread? Christ, I feel like Dostoevsky.))

What little anger Daniel felt expired when he saw the first tear drop from her eye. He reached out to her, unthinking, and cradled her head on his chest, softly stroking back her hair. "Shhh...it's okay..." he said, softly. "I mean...if..." if you love him...

He stopped himself, though, and looked at her...pain and love mixed in a strange cocktail in his gaze. "..." his mouth opened and closed, soundlessly, once or twice.

Then a terrible thought occured to him. "An arranged marriage, I'd presume?" He asked, his lip crinkling with slight distaste. Now his pain wasn't just for himself, but also for her.

OOC: Oops. My bad. So many posts, must have accidentally skipped over it.

IC: "Oh..um...just a little homesick. How embarrassing" She covered the still surging emotions with a laugh.

"So, I have to admit I'm unfamiliar with your nation. Please, tell me about where you come from. I'm fascinated by the mix of cultures here" She moved a touch closer to the ambassador, just enough to indicate interest in matters beyond his borders.

Sarah retreated eagerly into the warmth of Daniel’s embrace. The tears flowed more freely now, despite her every attempt to stop them. She felt his hand run through her hair and tried again to regain control of herself.

“An arranged marriage, I'd presume?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered in reply as silent tears ran down the Field Marshal’s uniform. “Lord, Daniel, I’m so sorry”

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "Well. We'll just see about that..." he said, softly, returning to cradling her in his arms. "Shhh...please, don't cry..." he stroked back her hair. "Well...if you..." He wanted to ask her her feelings on the Ambassador...what she would do... he could feel his emotions twisting around. "shh...it will be okay...I'm not hurt...I'm worried for you, but not hurt..."

Sarah let Daniel’s reassurances flow over her gently. For several minutes, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything for fear of another outburst of tears.

“I can’t believe I’m acting like this,” she mumbled when at last she regained control, greatly embarassed by her outpouring of emotion. Sarah didn’t move from Daniel’s embrace, though. “What do you mean, ‘worried for me’?”

"I..." he stuttered. "I...god..." he closed his eyes... "..." he moved her head up, and looked in her brown eyes. "I... I don't know..." he said, softly. "But...I don't...I..." his voice petered out again.

He couldn't say anything with words...realising that, he leant down and kissed her again, hoping to get his love and concern for her across.

Sarah gazed up into Daniel’s blue eyes. The sudden eye contact and his stuttering, unsure tone almost cracked the deep reserve of steadfastness she had called upon.

The kiss, initiated this time by Daniel, took Sarah completely by surprise. At first, she wasn’t quite sure how to react. Surely, a prince of the realm would have wanted to distance himself from the potential scandal as soon as possible?

But it very quickly occurred to Sarah that she had been right all those years ago while fighting with her mother. There were forces other the tense rigidity of Shieldian courtship, greater even than IanCorp and its keneral scandal sheets. Forces such as love. Her body, tense for perhaps only a second, relaxed into the kiss and her hands found their way around to his back.

"Sarah..." Daniel said, softly. "I..." he shook his head. "...god. I just...I don't...I..." he closed his eyes, and let what he thought out. "I...love you, Sarah...and I..." he couldn't say it. He had to, though..."I..."

He wanted to tell her how he felt about this business of arranged marriages and how he was tempted...no, he had to avoid thinking like that...Could she divorce him or something? I can't believe this...this...poor woman...

I love you.

Such simple words, but sweet as ambrosia. Sarah turned them over and over in her head while she reached a hand up to brush Daniel’s cheek. “I love you too,” escaped from her lips all in one rush.

That said, she buried her face back in the comfort of his breast, the top of her hair just tickling his chin.

((last post for the night, I’m afraid))

Daniel stroked her hair, softly. He closed his eyes, and then held her warm body close to him. He whispered "I love you" again, and sighed.

What about her husband...he is breaking the law, but...

The white mask chuckles. "Whatever the nation's government is willing to trade. Nothing illegal, so there's no need for the microphone. Being the brother of a soldier puts a lot of responsability on my shoulders, and I wouldn't deal with illegal stuff anyway."

((Phalanix))

The count laughed. "I wonder why it is you stay in Phalanix if it's so awful?" He asked. "Surely there are better ways to deal with things..."

The bartender paused. "You're right. I don't believe you."


"I'm still needed there. With the fact that an entire planet was taken over within a single month dosn't help. But they need all the help they can get with working on anything to help win the war," she replies, "But there are still some of the most amazing places. Like the Crystal Temple."

"Well it is true. And if you know anything about Kelly's brother Joshua I'm sure most of it you would never believe."

BUMP

Daniel stroked her hair, softly. He closed his eyes, and then held her warm body close to him. He whispered "I love you" again, and sighed.

What about her husband...he is breaking the law, but...

Sarah wasn't one to break up a perfect moment.

Back in the main ballroom, Caesar was becoming quite worried. He hadn't seen Diana - nor the field marshal - in quite some time.

((Iansisle))

Daniel sighed, and released. "It's..." he paused, and shook his head. "It's... not right..." he said, softly. "I love you, but...but..." he turned and looked back over the desert. ...I can't ask her to divorce her husband for me, and...I can't use my authority to put an end to her forced marriage... he put his head in his hand, and collapsed back on the wall. "God..." he choked out, though if it was through anger or tears couldn't be seen. "I love you, and...but...because of some sort of..." he fell silent.


((Muktar))

"Microphone, sir?" The agent asked, adjusting the rose over her heart a bit. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean..."

((Phalanix))

"No, you're right...I don't believe that, either." The bartender smiled a bit wanly. "Try telling the truth."

The count shook his head again. "No, no...why don't you loyalists flee to Reach, and leave the rebels to the ruins?"