NationStates Jolt Archive

High Queen Corrina sat quietly in the golden throne looking upon the ballroom. Her soft white hands rested lightly on the radiant arms of her seat as her eyes focused on the high window. The sun was beginning to set. The queen’s blue eyes moved towards the crest on the floor, the sign of House Gwydion: vert, a falcon maintaining an oak leaf or. The light of the sun slowly retreated westward across the crest.

To Corrina’s right stood her brother and sisters, from oldest to youngest. King Danwyth stood silently, his eyes on the ground. Nianki stood next to him, her thick muscles tensed. Beatrice was conspicuously absent. On the other side, stood her daughters. Aiwyn stood in her stately fashion, her wedding band on her finger. Agwene stood next to her, more than a head shorter but with a look on unmistakable enthusiasm on her face. Vicotira, the youngest, looked about idly. It was the first Samhain Princess Vicotira was attending the party and she was wondering if all the rumors her sisters told her were true. The masques of the Imperial Family were traditional, elegant garb and white masks covering the top of their faces.

Duke David ap Dougal slipped into the room from a side door. Duke David, though well-formed and handsome as all sidhe are, walked with a heavy limp that seemed out of place with his fresh, youthful face. The golden robes and broad golden hat he wore were far too large for his form, the end of the robes dragging far behind him on the floor. David bowed to his queen before turning his gaze to the retreating sunlight. “It is almost time, Your Imperial Majesty.”

The ordermaster Vor watched darkness surround the palace. Enveloped in loose, black, bandage-like cloth, the ordermaster seemed to be a living corpse as much as a living being. Night, the time between the twilights. He was the representative of Weyr and the Tower at this function. He was also the cultural attache.

The face that could, at times, be glimpsed from beneath the deep hood looked to be somewhere between nineteen and twenty-nine, although Weyreans did not age normally by any means. Long, slightly pointed ears, swept back, hidden beneath black hair prematurely streaked with gray, caused people to confuse the Weyrean with an Elf. Gray eyes looked from beneath the hood and layers of robe-like, bandage-like black material, haunting rather than haunted, some would say, seeming to look straight through a person and to the heart of his or her being.

Vor watched the darkness envelop the palace, and waited. Something comes.

A shuffle of some rusty, dusty papers was the only sound in the local library. Swssssh. She turned the page.

"Ahhhhh....ahhhh...chooow!" Dust flying in the air. She rubbed her small pointy nose and sighed. Lifting her left wrist she looked at her watch, it read 12:35 p.m. She had been there about nine hours just today. Her assignments always left her researching probably to an extent she overdid, but she wanted to be prepared.

Her eyes watered a bit and a thin strand of black hair fell over her purple eyes. She whisked it behind her eye and readjusted her spectacles. A pair that was known to make her look like an English professor. A secret smile came to her pale creamy face, her light pink full lips curved upward and causing her normally deep purple eyes to lighten. SHe had wanted to become a English teacher when she was in high school, but later changed her area of study. Now, her title was diplomat of AmandaTheGreat. An emenous title and a lot of responsibility.

She sat at a table overflowing with endless amounts of books, magazines, and papers all about the Samhain. Her next mission was to establish contacts within their government. Her own government was looking to broaden their horizons and set up contact with nations of the outside. They were moving out of the isolation era and developing their nation, even exploring the heavens aboe, the infinite space.

She stretched her arms. I think I have had enough. She had been researching this since she found out about her next job, and that was about a month ago. Now, she was just reviewing and awaiting notification of her leaving the nation and arriving to her destination. She left all the things on the table, this was a perk, she could leave it and know it would be there in the morning. Being a diplomat gave you access to about anything. She walked out the front door and the security guard smiled at her and looked at her name badge attached to her baby tee-shirt. Sarren M. Fiffen. First Diplomat of AmandaTheGreat and it showed the house of the unicorn on the name tag.

"Miss Fiffen, here are your keys." His gruff voice sounded quite loud to the habitual silence of the library. His eyes lingered on her ample chest and she stared back at him. He cleared his throat and handed her the keys and made his way around the building.

Men. She rolled her eyes. She slipped her keys into her back pocket of her jeans. She walked here. Now, she was going to make a run home. She was safe enough, several of her body-guards were always nearby, not being obvious to others though.

Her tennis shoes thumped across the ground and her heat beated with each inspiration. Sarren liked to keep her body in shape, along with her mind. She turned a few corners and went up to her penthouse apartment. She nodded at the doorman and went up the elevator. Her ideas now on sleep and later on work.

She stripped down and got into her bed, pulling the fluffy thick comforter up to her chin. Her eyelids closed her eyes and she drifted off to sleep. She didn't notice the darker shadows enclosing around her as she was in dreamland.

The Emperor of the C’tan’s arrival here was quite understated (and unaccompanied), dressing down far more than was his norm, incognito even. A cloaked figure was far too cliché of course, but the altered appearance served much the same function. An old man, grey hair, beared, perky blue eyes peering out from a craggy brow with a keen intensity, his back slightly bowed under the apparent weight of his years. His voice was different too, less strident but more authoritative.

His clothing was faded, ancient blues and golds giving way to greys and blacks, but still the cut managed to be dignified if frayed around the edges, and the staff he leaned heavily upon seemed to be carved of gnarled and warped ebony. He spoke no more than necessary; he was not of course, here to speak with the living but the dead.

When the sunlight clears the crest, guards open the doors to the audience chamber allowing all entry. It is not truly night yet. The festivities have not formally begun and Corrina remains a queen. She smiles lightly as people enter, bowing. The room fills swiftly with fae: the sidhe in their unspeakable beauty, the bestial pooka, the towering trolls, the goat-legged satyrs, and many other races from all around the empire. Corrina smiles to each as they come in. If she knows who's simply a party goer and who a disguised foreign diplomat, she doesn't say. Everyone gets the same smile, the same nod. "Welcome to the Imperial Palace."

Amist the entering people there is a woman with silver hair. Around her neck is a slow-spinning crystal that glows with white fire. A blindfold covers her eyes, her sight taken in the tragedy that had befallen her kingdom countless centuries ago. An oak bow and a quiver of arrows are crossed on her back and she clutches a fist-sized silver orb in an out-stretched hand. She is Palma the Omnipotent and she is serving as representative of Mageddon.

Look at this! Palma's mind is filled with wonder at the fantastic creatures that surround her. It's a good thing Talshi's buisy. He'd go nuts in this place!

As the last rays of natural light vanish beneath the horizon, the room becomes utterly dark. No magical seeing or optical enhancement technology penetrates the blackness. No creature’s eyesight is of the slightest avail against a darkness that seems to touch the very soul.

The darkness lingers for a long moment. Slowly, the darkness fades. At first, it simply becomes more natural. Magics and technologies regain their effectiveness against it. Soon, torches hanging from the walls and candles on the long tables filling the room begin to cast their dim light throughout the chamber. The play of the light on the walls and around the table creates as much shadow as light.

The candles, the torches, the tables, none of it was here before. On the tables are the makings of a great feast. Common steaks and hams mingle with high-brow ducks and pheasants, exotic moths and monkey brains, and a few strange foods that few, if any, could identify. Two tables, in particular, seem rather bizarre. One seems to be attracting the redcaps in the room. The redcap banquet seems to consist of quite a few uncut, uncooked animal flesh. The table heaves beneath the wait of the whole sharks, pigs, horses, dogs, and other creatures piled upon it. The other table is covered in soggy bread, sour milk, and other soggy, rotting foods. The sluagh crowd to that table, eagerly eating the delicacies of their kind.

"It is an honor to be here, milady," Vor said simply, bowing before Corrina. It was a voice that some, perhaps many, would have found unsuited for the costume. The ordermaster drifted through the crowd of many races, until the hall was plunged into darkness, then back into half-light.

Most impressive, Vor commented, in a mental tone that was decidedly not impressed, as the banquet appeared.

Loud annoyning beeps awoke Sarren from her peaceful sleep. She jumped up and looked about the room. Her cellphone lite up the room. She groggily answered the phone.

"Hello..."

Delirious, but aware someone else was on the line.

"What?" Her eyes widened and her face flushed with pale red.

"How could that happen?"

Her vioce raised, she was not happy by no means.

"Why was I not informed? How am I suppose to be prepared to leave in one hour and not be packed?"

"Oh...okay...you have packed for me....and my briefcase ready?"

"Good...okay...I will be at the airport as soon as I am dressed." CLick.

Sarren jumped out of bed and raced into the shower. She did not need to undress and she turned on the water. Steam filled the room and shortly there after she was out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around her body. She starred at herself in the mirror. Her eyes glarred and her lips frowned. How could they be so unorganized. I should not have depended on them. I should have figured everything out for myself. Oh well, can't change things now. They had just called and informed her that it had already started and she needed to leave now. Anger continued to boil, but was slower shimmering now. She would soon forgive. She dressed quickly, putting on a pair of low-rise jeans and a black tank top. She normally liked to dress casual and at work of course she was appropriate to that setting, formal wear. She grabbed her purse and cellphone, not that she needed it, and rushed out the door. Her wet black hair following close behind her.

On the plane trip, she sleep. This sleep was more restfull than last night. She thought, I must have been too stressed out to get a good night's sleep. She was taken to her hotel and situated. On her bed was a large box with a note on it.

It read...we have supplied you with an outfit you would normally not wear and the reason be that is what we were informed you to do...hope you like what we picked for you....department of relations...

Her gut churned...she could only imagine what they had picked for her. Who would throw a shingdig with people wearing what they didn't normally wear.

She opened the box and she gasped. No way am I going to wear that....
In the box was a black bikini with large black wings. Ontop of the outfit was hope you like being a dark sex angel. Sarren's eyes narrowed, this was definitely something she wouldn't wear. But this was her job and it was outlined in her procedural book that sometimes the outfit would not fit the diplomat's sense of appeal. Boy, that was an understatement. At least she would get people to talk to her, she hoped. She slipped off her clothes. Then put on the bikini. Onto the back off her top attached the wings. Also, in the box, under the wings was a black miniskirt, at least her buttock would be covered somewhat. She rolled her eyes. She also found black boots that went up to the middle of her thigh. She walked over to her closets, which were covered in mirrors and almost laughed. I look like one of those Victoria Secret models. I guess I don't look that bad. Her navel piercing was a diamond and it sparkled next to black outfit. She fixed her makeup to match the outfit. Black eyeliner, black mascara, and glitter. Glitter sparkled all over her exposed skin. She left her hair down, black and straight it touched the mid of her back. I guess I am ready.

After the car ride there, her nerves relaxed. I can do this, it is just an outfit.

She followed the line of people, arranged in so many different things. Now, I don't feel so bad about it. Finally, she was inside and saw the queen Corrina. She smiled at her and she had recieved one back. She nodded slightly and made her way over to the feast the covered the tables. I do not think my stomach can handle food yet. At this point she decided she would just observe for the time being.

Corrina opened her mouth to address those who spoke to her as she entered. This was before the lights went out. When the lighting was replaced by dim candles, the throne was still cloaked in impenetrable shadow. When the shadows parted, the throne was no longer one of gold. It was a finely polished white material that one could only hope was ivory. The woman sitting in it was also different. Like all sidhe, she was well-formed, with a certain beauty to her presence that was literally beyond words. Bright green eyes looked out from behind raven locks as a soft smirk crossed her refined face. Gentle shoulders lay at the base of a long neck, just above a beyond ample chest. Her slender body thinned to an impossibly narrow waist before expanding somewhat into nicely curved hips. Her legs seemed to stretch for miles before ending in rather small feet. She wore a black half garment over her chest, leaving her arms, shoulders, midriff, and the top third of her chest exposed. Below that, she was covered by tight black leggins ending in shiny, military boots. She sat, not like a queen, but rather leaning back, with one leg thrown casually over an arm of the chair. She held a bottle of hundred year old wine in her hand from which she swigged casually, like a bum might drink liquor. "Is everyone ready for a night you'll never remember?"

OOC: Gah, this level of formality is really, really, hard to do.

Vor found himself near a youngish woman, wearing something that humans thought resembled a 'fallen angel'. I need to brush up on the culture thing, the ordermaster decided, half-jokingly. Now, he just needed to start a conversation.

"Greetings," Vor inclined his head, not bothering to consider the cleavage exposed by the skimpy top. Fortunately or unfortunately, that was the best conversation starter he had, as far as the ordermaster could tell.

A troll warrior enters the room. At first, he does not stand out much. Certainly, he is nine feet in height and blue of skin, but so is every other member of his race, including the dozen or so already in ballroom. He wears a costume, clearly borrowed from more foreign and more modern lands. His robes are dark brown in color. Although they are robes, they are of a somewhat practical cut, not billowing and unwieldly. On his forehead is a golden symbol, an oval with a circle inside it, an eye.

A woman slips into the ballroom from a side entrance, a sidhe. Her gown is the same complicated green affair that Corrina wore earlier as she sat upon her throne. She has the high queen’s raven hair and her majestic figure. She has her soft, small mouth, her height, her weight. Only two things separate her from the woman seen earlier on the throne. She now wears the same useless half-mask the other members of the Imperial Family are wearing and she now wears a softly glowing red gemstone around her neck. The new arrival curtsies deeply to the woman who now sits on the throne. “Your Imperial Majesty.” For the blind or the unobservant, her voice is also that of the high queen.

The Shadow Queen, who now sits in the throne, grins, looking out over the crowd. “I guess only the stuck-up Summer bitch has the courtesy to answer a High Queen. Yes, a queen for a night but this is that night.” She takes another swig of wine. Despite her words, her tone is more amused than offended.

A sluagh woman walks towards Vor. Like all her kind, the woman is pale as a sheet. The way her body moves is simply wrong. A person's body is not made to bend like that. It is not exotic or enticing as a gymnast's movements might be. It is beyong that. It is simply grotesque. She smiles, an utterly toothless smile though she looks young. Her costume, such as it is, consists of a bright red and white cheerleading uniform, standing in obscene contrast to her demeanor and appearance and exposing those knees that bend both ways. She speaks in the barest of whispers. "You, too, await the dead."

"Death, is only the beginning," Vor replied icily. "My time will come; until then, I do not have the right to die." What the frig do you want? he chose not to ask. Only beyond the Gate can Weyreans meet again, not before; it has been tried.

There were enough people who had tried to bring back loved ones. There was a reason human transmutation was taboo. The results of that branch of alchemy were not pleasant.

The woman tilts her head, whispering once more. "Then what does bring you here?"

"Orders," Vor shrugged. "In turn, what brings you to this gathering?"

She arches a brow and shrugs. "Then you should not be here." Her voice remains a whisper. At that, she turns and moves away from Vor.

The Shadow Queen smirks faintly, looking out at the conversation and focusing her now visibly annoyed gaze on Vor. "Or, at the least, you should answer a queen when she speaks to you."

Lord Phaeton Draconis, emperor of Akaton and husband of the crown princess Aiwyn made his entrance. Realizing the party had started some time earlier, he cursed his lateness. Whether it was a time zone difference or simply a schedule error, the fact remained that Draconis was a bit more than fashionably late.

He hurried in, taking his place by Aiwyn's side while trying not to draw too much attention to himself. At any other gathering, avoiding attention would be impossible, but in the diverse crowd assembled here, an elf such as Draconis fits in perfectly. His outfit was a combination of classic tradition and Akatani styles. Gone were the royal robes of ages past, replaced by a flowing black coat (OOC Note: for those who have seen the Matrix Reloaded, Draconis is dressed similarly to Neo). The fabric seemed to be made of woven shadows, fading into the darkness where it should touch the ground.

Turning to Aiwyn, he gently kissed her cheek,
"I certainly hope I haven't missed too much, my love. Given the rather grim situation in Akaton, a gathering such as this should be a pleasant distraction from the affairs of state."

Aiwyn laughs a little. "Not exactly the words I would have choosen for a Samhain celebration, my Phaeton." With that, she kisses him passionately, pressing her tongue into his mouth and taking his head in hand. She seems oblivious to the fact that her mother, aunts, uncle, sisters, and the acting High Queen are all in her immediate area, nor do they seem to consider her behavior odd.

Corrina claps lightly, grinning as she walks over. "What? No time to say hello to your mother-in-law? She does seem quite fond of you, doesn't she?" She winks at Draconis.

Music slowly fills the room. It’s soft and haunting, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Slowly, the crowd begins to break off into pairs, dancing slowly, holding one another close. The trolls and the sidhe move first to claim satyrs as dancing partners. Nockers and sluagh choose partners of their own kind. Playful pooka clasp hands with nervous boggans, even as mischievous eshu claim vulgar nockers as partners. The redcaps do not bother to dance, staying at their table and continuing to gorge themselves.

The humans begin to dance tentatively with one another. Every now and again, one of them glances nervously at the redcaps. The redcaps occasionally glance back, snarling faintly and taking a grotesque bone-crushing bite of some animal on the table.

Meanwhile, Edward Newton slipped through the halls of the palace. The man was unmasked, unlike most tonight. However, he was clad entirely in black, his muscled form filling out his outfit well, as his boots move soundlessly across the floor. Edward rests one hand on the pommel of his heavy blade.

Draconis was quite surprised by Aiwyn's passionate behavior in front of everyone. However, the situation was hardly undesirable, and he quickly decided to go along with spirit of the party. Glad to be rid of the diplomatic formality of most such events, Draconis returns the kiss. After enjoying the moment, he smiled,

"What have you gotten me into this time, Aiwyn?"

Noticing Corrina approaching, Draconis turned towards her, his coat sweeping behind him.

"Well, I did just arrive. However, now that I'm here, it is simply wonderful to meet you. As for Aiwyn here, I certainly hope that she's fond of me. She did marry me, after all."

Nassau Owen was among the masked humans watching the redcaps. He was not used to being intimidated. Owen was the leader of the Loyalist Party in Parliament, controlling a great many of the votes which gave the dominant parliamentary coalition its majority. Despite being a mere human, Nassau was able to call quite a few of the most prominent sidhe in the Empire, including Grand Duchess Nianki herself, friend. None of that mattered on Samhain. What mattered was hunger.

Nassau relaxed as the redcaps glanced away. He turned back his wine, peering at the woman from Amanda the Great. He smiles a little towards the woman, thinking.

As the music continues to build, the satyrs in the room begin to sing along. The satyrs start our slow, then they speed up along with the music. Their voices seem to grip the hearts of all who hear them. The voices of the satyrs’ song unleash the passions of all who hear them. While the strong willed may resist, most are overcome by whatever passion they are feeling most intensely at the moment. Couples begin to kiss as they dance, one or two vanishing through back doors to seek rooms.

((OOC: Sorry for joining late. Busy with school and the Olympics.))

Dancing more than tentatively in a well-lit area of the room, President Pedro Marquez and his wife, Victoria, can do nothing but gaze wide-eyed at the room and its occupants. After a queasy landing at a Weyrean constructed landing pad on the outskirts of Tarana, then a rushed visit to the Latin Embassy on Embassy Row to check up on the move-in process there before heading to the party, the two hadn't had enough time for the culture-shock to set in.

It wasn't until the two entered the room, trailing a gaggle of Secret Servicemen and a soldier or two supplied from the embassy guard, that the stark contrast between their home nation and the Resurgent Dream - and indeed most nations invited - became fully apparent. The ethereally fair sidhe, the lumbering trolls, the impossible satyrs... the President was glad their son Juan wasn't old enough to join his parents on international visits. It was almost too much for him.

The costuming of the other officials in the room was definitely startling. The President and his wife could look at one person and feel massively overdressed, then the next and feel just the opposite. Flowing royal garments and grand ceremonial headgear stood side-by-side with skin-tight catsuits and some woman dressed obviously for a beach in Hell. And then there were Pedro and Victoria. Pedro was wearing a specially-tailored midnight blue San Martín suit, white dress shirt, dark maroon silk tie, and super-shined black shoes, with his hair carefully sprayed into a teased, swept-back style, and his mustache groomed and trimmed. He looked all of his thirty-six years, but with impressive dignity. Victoria wore a closely-tailored sleeveless San Martín dress in sea mist green, the skirt dropping to the floor, but only just, and the top cut modestly low, just enough for a hint of her deeply-tanned bust. Her athletic form (a result of her military service) was barely disguised by the form-fitting cloth, and her long mane of jet-black hair was done in flowing waves for the occasion.

They were utterly dwarfed by the immense impossibility of the whole affair, not to mention by some of it's occupants. Nonetheless their impassive Secret Service protectors just glared about the room from behind their sunglasses - which they still wore despite the dark - and blended easily into the shadows with their black suits. The two Latin Army privates standing by their place at the table couldn't maintain such impassivity - they gaped at the food, the women, and the creatures like schoolboys.

On the appearance of the crass Shadow Queen, Marquez's heart had jumped and he felt his wife squeeze his arm under the table. When she said, "a night you'll never remember," the President briefly considered leaving. A diplomatic party run by a drunken, profane woman in a tight outfit was certainly not up his alley. But he had been invited by the Duchess Beatrice, a woman he had been waiting to greet back in the Union until war intervened and she canceled her visit. Now that the Union was going to supply humanitarian aid to the Resurgent Dream and Androtia in the aftermath of the plague and nuclear strike, Marquez had felt it necessary to accept her invitation. It would be a chance to meet the Duchess finally, and to encounter firsthand the people he would be dealing with.

Marquez felt Victoria draw closer and touch her cheek to his. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of one couple kissing rather passionately, and another holding hands and darting, giggling, into a corridor. He did not like the way this was becoming. Clearly these people had a different idea about diplomacy. Though he was a very open-minded man, he didn't quite cotton to the notion of making love to his wife at a diplomatic affair.

He glanced at the front of the room and picked out the High Queen Corinna talking with some other members of the Resurgent Dream's hierarchy. If he could snag her maybe he could meet Beatrice, have some brief discussions about the deployment of humanitarian forces, and leave. He put his mouth to his wife's ear.

"Darling, would you like to speak to the Queen?" he asked.

"The one on the throne?" his wife replied indignantly. "Why?"

"No, not her," Marquez whispered hastily. "High Queen Corinna. She's not busy dancing. I want to find some sanity in all this."

"All right," his wife assented, giving him an inconspicuous peck on the neck. "This is getting very uncomfortable."

The President and First Lady of the Latin Union abruptly ceased dancing and strode over to the High Queen, their blanket of Secret Servicemen inconspicuously gliding along the walls to follow them.

Corrina hugs Draconis, kissing him on both cheeks. "You might meet her father tonight. Now, be bad and obey the queen."

Corrina turns to Pedro and Victoria, smiling lightly. "Mr. President, Madame First Lady..." she inclines her head. "You are not exactly costumed, though it is of no real consequence. I do hope you've come to ask me to dance, that is, if your wife would not terribly mind."

The sluagh slowly begin to break apart. The couples part company, retreating into the shadows. Quietly, unobtrusively, and only a few at a time, the pale nightmares slip out of the hall. Soon, only a small number of the crawlers remain in the ballroom. One of them approaches Sarren, silently offering a white gloved hand. He smiles a toothless smile and speaks in a whisper. “Would such a lovely lady as yourself wish to witness the darkest secrets of Samhain ritual?”

Grand Duchess Nianki frowns, her gaze falling briefly upon Sarren and the sluagh. Her heavily muscled legs move her rapidly across the floor. She places one hand lightly on Sarren’s arm. “Madame, perhaps I might have a word of your time? I have never before spoken with a sex angel.”

Sarren glanced over to where she heard greetings and she automatically smiled, showing her bright white teeth. She nodded and just as she was going to say hello to the man in the dark cloak a woman walked up and talked with him. Sarren backed up a bit and allowed them to converse privately. She always respected other women and she would not intrude, even though she technically was talking to him first. After the woman left to approached him once more.

Extending her hand, "My name is Sarren Fiffen. I am the first diplomat for the nation AmandaTheGreat. I am definitely new to this sort of situation, but I do enjoy throwing myself into the burning fire." She laughed nervously and her cheeks flushed pink slightly. She looked about the room at all the couples.

"I know I am young and all, but I feel as if I should have brought someone here. Being single has left me cold and alone."

She paused, that sounds desperate, even though she had not meant it. It was just a mere observation.

"I do wonder what is in store for tonight. I mean to dress in something we would normally not wear to a function we normally do. It is quite absurb." She giggled as her wings moved with her body.

"If you don't mind me asking, my have you come here?"

For a moment Draconis was rather puzzled by Corrina's last comment, looking around. Noting the couples kissing, dancing, or slipping away for more a more private setting, he thought to himself that this was going to be an interesting night. Turning back to Aiwyn, he spoke with a sarcastic formality.

"Would you care to dance, M'lady?"

Before she could respond, he swept the beautiful sidhe to the dance floor, leading her along in a dance closely approximating the tango. In the more well lit portions of the hall Draconis's pale skin and icy blue eyes contrasted sharply with the purest black in which he was clothed, lending the elf a rather ghostly appearance.

President Marquez looked puzzled. "Costumed?" he repeated, turning to his wife, who only looked back at him. Upon the High Queen's request for a dance, he seemed embarrassed and at a loss for words, evidently unprepared for that.

Victoria smiled back at the High Queen and replied, "No, not at all."

Pedro looked at her, then Corinna, and finally smiled himself. "Of course. I would be delighted to dance with you, Your Majesty." As Victoria stepped out of the way and he took the High Queen to the floor, he mentally kicked himself all over the room for forgetting the costume arrangement. Must read things all the way through, he noted, remembering the crisp invitation his Minister of Foreign Relations had handed him during an afternoon meeting not long ago.

When they reached the floor, Marquez felt slightly uncomfortable taking the High Queen into a close waltz as he had with his wife, but on seeing Draconis and Aiwyn sweep onto the floor in a tango, Marquez felt reassured that a waltz would be far more preferable and led Corinna about the floor.

"I must thank you for inviting me, Your Majesty," the President said to Corinna. "I've been waiting to get in contact with your people for some time now."

She wasn’t sure exactly why she had come. She knew the inherent dangers, realized the folly of sneaking off like this, but something had driven her. What she had read of this Samhain celebration, and what bits of it she understood, seemed to tug at her, inviting her to sample the forbidden fruits it offered … to accept the silent challenge.

Dressed in the simple black and white habit of a nun that hid most of her womanly curves, complete with a long wooden rosary, she walked through the crowd with an affected piousness, knowing just how at odds she must look in comparison to her pagan surroundings. Her face was obscured by a sculpted mask that covered from her nose and most of her cheeks up, depicting more an old crone. Even her usual blue eyes had been hidden behind colored contacts, now showing as a rich golden-brown. Long raven tresses were secured under her habit in an elaborate braid to prevent stray locks from escaping.

Contrary to one’s nature? she thought with a wry smile. I don’t think it gets much more contrary than this. Il dio, what sort of insane asylum have I gotten myself into?

To say that she was mildly disturbed at some of what she sees would be an understatement. Where she came from, such things existed only in myth and legend, after all. And though she had seen much in her travels in these later years, and learned that there was more between heaven and earth than one might imagine, seeing it, in the flesh, was another matter entirely.

The Shadow Queen, and the contrast between her and she who seemed to be Corinna, was an interesting one, and something she felt an odd kinship to. Dual natures, the struggle of balancing the darker and lighter portions of one's soul and psyche - these were concepts she was intimately familiar with. And in no small part, it was a reason why she remained on her guard, here where the darker seemed to be on display. There was no black and white, despite what some would have her believe. There were only darker and lighter shades of grey. And here, she felt the darker parts of herself humming in a strange sort of resonance with what she saw and heard, tasted and felt.

It was all she could do to resist the siren call of the Satyr’s music, especially given her natural tendencies. At one point she went so far as to press up against one of the walls, gripping it for support, her breathing coming fast and hard as she fought with all her will to deny the urges. She would not allow herself to let go. Not yet. Not until she knew more, at the very least.

Remembrance or not, it mattered little. She knew well enough the consequences for losing control, and for now, she was bound and determined to hang onto it as if her life depended on it. After all …

Here, it just might.

Aiwyn allows herself to be swept away in her husband's arms. She moves gracefully, allowing him to lead. She smiles up gently before smirking playfully. "No." she quips in an obviously joking tone.

Corrina dances easily with the President of the Latin Union. She dances easily, gracefully. She doesn't seem particularly reserved or intimate. His concerns about propriety are his alone. She does smile up at him, watching with her blue eyes. "Please, Corri. Only one woman has any right to be called a queen here tonight." She eyes move towards the throne with a faint smile.

Meanwhile, Danwyth approaches the first lady with a smile. "As my big sister has borrowed your husband, it seemed ungentlemanly to let such a lady wait out a dance alone." He offers a hand.

The Shadow Queen's eyes focus on Nathicana as she approaches but she says nothing as of yet. Rather there's recognition in that gaze or rather she merely wondered who entered so late or about the unique costume, she wasn't revealing yet.

Agwene, for her part, glides towards Nathicana, recognizing the woman from her assignment to the Dominion. The middle princess smiles to the Imperatrice, watching her struggle to control herself. "It is lovely to see you again, Sister. I see your passions for your Lord run deep."

Marquez relaxes as the Queen assumes a pleasantly neutral attitude as they traverse the floor. They begin to cover some significant ground, as Marquez has been to more than his share of ballroom dances in the past. On the dropping of formalities, he smiles kindly at her. "Very well, Corri. You may call me Pedro." He casts a look up at the Shadow Queen before turning back to Corri and asking, "Who is she? What has she to do with tonight's affair?"

Victoria looks at the King with a slightly surprised air, but smiles and takes his hand. "How kind of you," she replies.

The woman is surprised by the statement, and by the fact that the Princess recognizes her even through her disguise. “Greetings, your Highness,” she says quietly. “I thank you and yours for the invitation to this rather … unique event. As for passions and my Lord, why, I’m not sure I know quite what you mean. I would think that he would rather enjoy seeing me run a bit rampant, savoring all this in a rush of hedonistic pleasure.”

She smiles wryly, glancing off in the direction some of the celebrants gleefully disappeared. "I have my reasons," she notes simply, then looks back to Agwene. "But I digress. How does this evening find you, Princess?"

Corrina smiles. "Why, she is the queen. All who enter should present themselves to her. Her word is law. She is the queen, Pedro."

Danwyth takes Victoria gently, beginning to waltz with a smile. "Corri was only born two minutes before I was, you know."

Agwene smirks faintly at Naticana, offering her a hand, palm down. "I meant Your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Holy Sister. Who else would a nun give her service to?" She winks a tad playfully.

At that, Nathicana laughs, an unrestrained, heartfelt laugh that soon has her dabbing at tears of mirth. “Sweet Jesu, Agwene, I truly have been thinking too hard of late. I really do need to relax, no?” she says, shoulders still shaking now and then at continued stifled giggles. “Who indeed?” She leans in and whispers in a pseudo-conspiratorial tone, glancing around mischievously. “Some would say the Devil Himself, you know.”

Nathicana chuckles again at her own private joke, wondering idly just how Alkanphel would react to such wanton displays going on here. The old-fashioned prude. Would do that boy a world of good if he cut loose a bit more.

Agwene withdraws her hand, looking briefly surprised before she smiles again. "Well, there he is if you wish to offer your services." Agwene says, gesturing towards a human in a bright red devil costume. "He seems a bit plump and bald for such a pretty, nun, however."

As he danced with Aiwyn, Draconis bowed his head respectfully as he passed the Shadow Queen. He thought to himself how the woman’s unusual behavior had reminded him of an old phrase. In an hour of darkness, a blind man is the best guide. In an time of insanity, follow the madman. As the occasion certainly was some sort of insanity, the Shadow Queen seemed a fitting ruler. As the music slowed a bit, Draconis frowned slightly to cover an involuntary grin, a mock sadness in his voice.

"A pity you're not in the mood for dancing, you're so good at it. But, if that is case, can you think of anything better to be doing?"

Aiwyn laughs a little. "Well, yes, but not yet. I want to stay at the party a little longer. Maybe you can dance with Vicotira. She thinks you're cute. She told me after the wedding. Of course, she's small enough to dance on top of our feet."

Pedro eyes the Shadow Queen quizzically. "I think I see what's going on here," he confides to Corrina with a smile. "When we are finished dancing, I'll make sure to announce myself." They continue to dance for a moment before Pedro says, "I was expecting the Duchess Beatrice to visit my nation recently, but she had to cancel because of the plague. I hope it's not taboo for me to discuss such things as politics in this setting."

Victoria cocks her head at a coy angle. "Really? Does it make you feel jealous that those two minutes made her 'High Queen' and you just 'King?'" Immediately she slaps a look of embarrassment on her face. Gaah! she thinks. That wasn't very polite.

ooc: curses - I'm sorry, inbetween reading and posting I missed the hand entirely. my bad.

"Oh, I couldn't agree more," Nathi says, wrinkling her nose in distaste, shifting her mask a bit, then grins mischievously. "Perhaps you have a more ... suitable target for such services?"

Corrina nods. "It's fine to talk about it. I don't see much point though. We will forget everything we discuss tonight."

Danwyth laughs a little. "By law, it should have made me Duke. The High King and the King of Shieldcrest were once the same, as Shieldcrest was the ruling Kingdom. My sister decided it would only be fair for the Empire to be ruled in the name of all of its people equally. So she split the thrones and gave me the smaller one."

Agwene laughs a little. "There's quite a few handsome men about the room. Not Draconis...marriage vows are sacred, even on Samhain, as are all other formal oaths. Lesser commitments...well, it's thought that what you won't remember won't hurt you. Danwyth's single and about half the humans." Agwene pauses and whispers. "Before you pick an escort, however, how would you like to play a delightful prank on my mother?"

"Well," Nathicana admits with a slightly sheepish smile that soon turns wicked, "It isn't as though I attended for the sexual conquests, though the sheer blasphemy of doing something like that while wearing the habit does appeal on some levels ... now what's this about a prank? The last time I pranked anyone was when we vandalized a friend's pride and joy vehicle - in a non-permanent way, of course. This seems to be a night for such 'mischief', no?"

Agwene smirks. "This is, perhaps, a prank of a different sort and a more embarassing one, if you didn't know no one would remember. A few months back, my mother got terribly upset upon learning one of her vassals was gay. She did the right thing in the end but she still took a rather reactionary attitude. So..." Agwene looks from Nathi to Corrina, smirking mischievously. "You do need to ask someone for the next dance and to speak to mother, even if she isn't on the throne tonight."

"When I heard her say that, I didn't think she meant it in the literal way," Pedro admits. "I came here under the wrong impression that this was some sort of diplomatic banquet to promote international relations, or something like that. From what I've been seeing, however..." he casts a significant glance at a couple running hastily into a corridor, hand in hand, "... I take it we are to just enjoy ourselves tonight?"

"Well, that was nice of her," Victoria remarks jovially. "So if you're the King of Shieldcrest, what do you do every day? Is your job immensely boring? Or is it fast-paced and filled with activity? My husband often comes to bed thoroughly exhausted from his work."

Corrina laughs lightly. "You should really read your documents more carefully, Pedro. I wouldn't say just to enjoy ourselves, however. There is quite a lot more ritual to come and...other things."

Danwyth laughs. "It varies from day-to-day, honestly. It's not normally boring, however. Whenever there's a significant battle, I get to fight. There's ceremonial duties to tend to and tourneys to throw. Lately, my courtier have been throwing noblewomen at me, suggesting possible matches."

Nathi looks at Agwene sharply, one brow arching up. "You mean for me to ask your mother for a dance?" she asks, sounding more than a little confused. "Well I ... that is, I mean ... "

The woman pauses, gathering her thoughts, and glancing now and then at Corinna and those around her. "I can't say as I've ever done anything quite so ... " She clears her throat nervously and looks back to Agwene for confirmation.

Agwene looks a little puzzled at the reaction. "Nevermind, then. It seems to make you more uncomfortable than it would make her, which takes away the whole point of a prank."

Marquez felt an inner twinge at the word "ritual." It had quite the taboo ring to it, but if his dream of global unity were to ever be realized, all viewpoints and beliefs must be respected equally. Not letting on his vague reservations about the ensuing night, he smiles sheepishly and says, "It's a fault of mine. I'm always so unbearably busy that sometimes I forget things. But I like being constantly busy. It gives me a sort of adrenaline rush and I enjoy knowing that I am always working for the good of my people and nation." He paused a moment, then laughed. "I sound so unbelievably naive, don't I?"

"See, that's one thing I'm sure I could never endure," Victoria tells Danwyth. "People throwing spouses at other people. 'Marry him, he's rich!' 'Marry her, she's got a powerful father!' I will be candid, though: when I met Pedro, all my mother could say was, 'Marry him! He's going to be President someday!' And look what happened."

Corrina laughs. "Yes, yes, that happens to me too sometimes."

Danwyth winks. "That's one thing I don't have to worry about. I can guarantee whoever I marry will be queen one day...namely, the day she marries me."

Pedro raises an eyebrow. "Really? Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one." He looks around and realizes that there are very few people left in the room. His two Army guards and his Secret Servicemen are beginning to stick out. Despite his disdain for protective security, their conspicuousness bothers him. This place has an air of combined regal splendor, dark pleasure, and inherent danger to it.

Victoria laughs. "Oh, I didn't mind Pedro becoming President. I just didn't want to have a big part in the politics of it all. I'm in the Army, so I have a career of my own to tend to. But I'm a little conflicted too, you see. What drew me to Pedro was his optimism, his sense of loyalty to his people, and his vision. He's really a great man, even if he does seem a bit childlike at times." She is silent for a moment as they dance, then looks over at Pedro and the High Queen talking as they dance. She becomes abruptly aware that she is opening up and easily speaking with a man who she's only met moments before and quite easily could have sprung from the pages of a fairy-tale book. What is it about this place, this setting, that simultaneously makes her uneasy and open? "What's your sister like?" she suddenly asks, trying to draw her mind from her trouble.

Nathicana looks back to Corinna, then to Agwene again, then shakes her head and chuckles softly. "This is supposed to be a night for mischief, and for acting what you are not, yes? As has been said, no one will remember, and it would be a grand prank indeed from what you say. I have grown so accustomed to remaining in such complete, tight control, your Highness ... sometimes I think I've almost forgotten how to relax and not take every little thing so seriously. What's a little dance and a little teasing, after all? First, however, I have been remiss and ought to present myself to the Queen as courtesy demands."

The recently-crowned Imperatrice winks at Agwene, draws herself up to her full unimpressive height of 5'7" as if steeling herself for a moment, then slipping back into her quiet, pious manner, approaches the throne, and bows low.

"Your Imperial Majesty, if I may present myself, a humble Sister from an old land come to partake of the gracious hospitality of Your Court," she says humbly, then for an impulsive added touch of blasphemy adds, "May God bless your reign, noble Queen."

Agwene smiles. "If it weren't for Samhain, being a ruler would be far less tolerable." She winks back, watching Nathicana approach the throne.

THe Shadow Queen looks down at Nathicana. "Thank you, my pretty. Though, I sincerely doubt your God has ought to do with the likes of me." She smirks and holds out the ruby ring adorning one finger. "You know how those of your kind great their Holy Father."

"Oh indeed I do," Nathicana replies with a wry smile, something about the blasphemy of it all appealing to her on several levels as she approaches and kneels. She looks up at the Shadow Queen with a very mischievous expression. "If I may be so bold, Your Imperial Majesty, if my God still deigns to acknowledge a soul such as mine, I doubt he would deny You the 'blessings' of His infinite love as well," she finishes in a softer voice.

And with that, she slowly kisses the ring, her eyes still on the dark woman sitting casually atop the throne, a wry twist turning up the corners of her lips.

The Shadow Queen laughs lightly, patting Nathicana on the head as one might a small child. "Good girl. I will require something of you soon. For now, you may return to your revels."

((Sorry for shortness, on the way to class))

"Of course. My thanks, noble Queen," Nathi says, getting to her feet and bowing again with a smile. No offense is taken - there is nothing after all to be offended by. The mention of 'require' however, is enough to send up red flags in her usually paranoid mind, but she hides it well, relying on years of practice and 'poker face' experience.

She then walks over to Corinna with a sway in her hips that is blasphemously at odds with the clothes she wears.

She bows low to those gathered there, going so far as to offer Danwyth a sly wink and a brief pursing of lips imitating a kiss as she straightens. "Beg pardon milord - and good evening, my Lady," she says, first addressing the gentleman, then the once-Queen. "I could not help but notice you from across the room, and I thought to myself, I would regret forever afterwards if I let this opportunity pass me by. If you would, my Lady, do me the honor of a dance?"

All this delivered with a slow, mischievous smile, her (now) golden-brown eyes looking over the woman appreciatively.

Oh good god, if Dev could see me now, what the hell would he think? Get a right good laugh he would, no doubt, she thinks to herself with a private laugh.


ooc: No worries - class happens.

Sephen 'val 'hanek ranger of Zyphona arrived in the Empire he stepped off the carriage and paid the driver hooded and cloaked his ornate oak barrelled sniper rifle slung over his back Sephen had a mission to accomplish one that even he didnt know until a pre determined date one that came from the Emperor Grenvelle himself for the moment he would make himself aquainted with this land.

He glided through undergrowth fast silent as his training dicated and with grace his mission would be revealed 48hrs from now and his confusion abated if temporaily

for Sephen this only usually meant one thing something he hadnt done since the Civil war

kill another human being

The sluagh slowly begin to break apart. The couples part company, retreating into the shadows. Quietly, unobtrusively, and only a few at a time, the pale nightmares slip out of the hall. Soon, only a small number of the crawlers remain in the ballroom. One of them approaches Sarren, silently offering a white gloved hand. He smiles a toothless smile and speaks in a whisper. “Would such a lovely lady as yourself wish to witness the darkest secrets of Samhain ritual?”

Grand Duchess Nianki frowns, her gaze falling briefly upon Sarren and the sluagh. Her heavily muscled legs move her rapidly across the floor. She places one hand lightly on Sarren’s arm. “Madame, perhaps I might have a word of your time? I have never before spoken with a sex angel.”

Sorry, I don't know how I missed it...my apologies...

Just before he could answer Sarren heard a voice and felt a hand softly rest on her arm. She turned and smiled politely. It was Grand Duchess Nianki, in my sight, the pleasure and yet the embarrassment, discovering that her outfit was the discussion. SHe bowed her head and returned her gaze to Nianki, "Grand Duchess, a sex angel?" Her cheeks began to glow red and her stomach churned as she continued to speak.

"I do apologize for the outfit. I was informed on an attire not normally worn by ourselves. My organization picked it and I am afraid it to be a joke, maybe not taken lightly. I suppose if you would like to converse with me I would be pleased with your time on my account. I do not however know anything about being a sex angel, infact even an angel." Her smile brightened and her purple eyes softened. "But you are more than welcome to question me."

Nianki smiles warmly at Sarren. "Non-sense. It is merely rare that we get to see such a beautiful form adorned in such a lovely fashion." Nianki glares towards the sluagh, who continues out the door without Sarren. "I do hope we will see you soon on the dance floor."

Corrina dances with Pedro, grinning. "Yes, really."

Danwyth shrugs a little. "She is a good woman and a good queen. She has really helped open relations with the rest of the world."

When Nathicana approaches, Corrina pauses. A faint look of discomfiture comes to her countenance as she looks back to Pedro. "I was engaged with Ped..."

Danwyth looks over, smirking faintly. "It is Samhain, Corri. Besides, lovely Victoria here is no doubt eager to return to her husband's arms." Danwyth dances towards Pedro and Corrina, spinning Victoria in such a way that Pedro might take her, even as Corrina pulls away.

Corrina approaches Nathi awkwardly, or as close to awkwardly as a sidhe can. "Very well, Sister. We shall dance. Would you care to lead?"

Sweet Jesu … all in the name of good fun and pranking, she thinks, offering Corrina her hand.

“It is the least I could do, seeing as how I have done the asking. My thanks, good Lady.” She leads the sidhe Queen to the dance floor, taking up part of her long skirts and tucking them up on one side under the simple belt around her waist, revealing smooth, shapely legs now and then when she walks or turns suddenly. Bowing to her uncomfortable partner, she then reaches out and pulls her close with one arm around her waist, the other gently supporting her hand. With a challenging, secretive smile, she dips Corrina back briefly, then starts in with the dance, guiding her partner with a strength and elegance that belies her human form.

Thank God for Shodey and augments.

"You look beautiful tonight, my Lady. Tell me, are you enjoying the revel?"

Marquez looks at the nun, unsure how to reply, given the setting and the situation. Finally, he only addresses Corinna, parting with her and bowing, saying, "Don't worry, Corri, we have an entire night to finish our conversation. Thank you for the dance." As Danwyth speaks and approaches with Victoria, Pedro holds out his arms to receive her.

Victoria looks at Danwyth at his statement about her looks. "You are very flattering, sir," she notes, whipping athletically into her spin and finding her husband's arms. She turns her head to Danwyth and inclines it in thanks. As the two dance a comfortable distance away, Victoria leans her mouth close to the President's ear. "Did you find the sanity you needed?"

Pedro smirks. "I think so. Corri... er, the High Queen is a very refined and personable woman. Very sane."

Victoria smiles. "Good. The King is quite the gentleman, also."

"These are good people," Pedro whispers. "I'm glad to finally figure that out. But we're still under that odd decree - that none of us will remember this night. And the Queen did mention something regarding rituals yet to come."

Victoria loses all complacency with the situation. "As long as that darker queen holds the throne up there, I assume we're going to be expected to do something ritualistic?"

Pedro frowns. "I wouldn't say no. But if we're going to befriend these people, we should adhere to their local customs, at least once."

"I just hope we're not asked to humiliate ourselves, or give ourselves freely to anything," Victoria remarks quietly.

"That's a little stereotypical, don't you think, darling?" the President replies. Victoria frowns but nods as the two continue to circle the floor.

Meanwhile, just outside the ballroom, a few Latin Secret Servicemen patrol the perimeter along with members of other nations' protective services, surveying the night and/or the corridors to the room with extreme prejudice, their shaded gazes not missing a single movement, a small earphone in one ear. In total, the Latin Union sent ten Secret Servicemen with the President and his wife: five within the ballroom, five without, to guard against any unexpected developments.

OOC:
Sorry for the lateness of my post, sleeping and class have been keeping me away from NS a bit more than I might like. School seems to be conspiring against this RP doesn't it?
________________________________________________________________

IC:
Draconis spends a long moment simply enjoying the joyful chaos of the party around him. If this was to be a party opposite to one's everyday life, it certainly succeeded at that. Aiwyn's comment brought his thoughts back to the present.

"I know exactly what you mean. I wouldn't miss this party for the world."

Looking around for a moment, he turned back to his wife,

"Princess Vicotira, you're little sister? I do remember seeing her at the wedding. While I don't know if cute is the word I would use myself, if she likes me then I might as well dance."

Draconis slowly makes his way across the floor towards the Princess. He thought to himself that in any other setting he would have seemed more than a little sinister in appearance. Here however, he seemed rather boring when compared with the blasphemous nun or the barely dressed angel with whom he shared the hall.

Vicotira peeks up at Draconis. Her four foot frame bouncing a little as the grown-up walks over. She grins. "Hey, Phaeton! Mommy says you're my big brother now." THe little girl smiles up adorably.

Corrina allows herself to be led. She looks even more flustered as she's pulled close to the other woman. She does smile nervously. "Thank you, Sister. I am...flattered." Corrina moves graciously, despite her nervous discomfort. "You dance very well. I have been led this well before but...never by a mortal woman."

OOC: Apologetics to everyone for lack of participation, especially imported_AmandaTheGreat, for screwing up the char dialogue.....*kicks Ap Comp Sci test*........*decides he needs to pass AP Comp Sci*....*kicks something else*.....*kicks self for kicking things*......apologetics also for the cliche-filled post that is to follow.......

Ahhh....screw this......I'll be dead in three days anyway......

There was Vor, the sound of a casket door opening, rusty hinges creaking, and then there was Vor.

Boots clicked on the ornate floor. The young man in military blue halted. "Milady, please accept my apologies," Vorian bowed before the ebony throne. "This is your night, and we are but guests in your hall. If I may," he seemed to have hardly shifted, but a bottle of deepest red appeared in his hand. He bowed again, extending the offering. "A thousand years old, maybe more, maybe less; I've never been good with Latin. Just something to pass the time."

Nathicana relaxes into the charade as they dance, feeling more than a little freed from her usual constrictions, enjoying perhaps a bit too much the blasphemy of her costume and behaviour, and in short, beginning to let go of the control she usually held herself to so tightly in so many situations. With a wicked little smile, she leans in close to Corrina during a portion of the music that suits itself, near enough for the sidhe to feel her warm breath against her lips.

“Now you flatter me,” she says quietly, locking eyes with the fae. “I’m not the most skilled dancer, I admit … but I do possess some benefits my mother never gave me.” She winks, and sends Corrina out in a graceful spin, pausing before bringing her in again to continue the dance.

Corrina parts her lips slightly at the breath, her fair face reddening with embarassment at the awkward situation. The sidhe looks away when the Imperatrice gazes into her eyes, her blush deepening as she dances.

The Shadow Queen takes the wine from Vor with a grin. "Oh, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just a bitch. Kind of the requisite for this job." She winks at him as she tucks the wine away. "I'll find something interested for you to do tonight."

I think I've tormented this poor woman more than enough for one night ... although I admit, it -has- been fun. What -is- it about this place? I'd blame it on the wine if I'd been drinking it ...

Nathi laughed softly, finishing out the dance, ending back near where they had begun. As the piece ended, she once again drew Corrina close, her eyes full of mischief, leaning in slowly ... and then briefly brushed her lips against each of the woman's cheeks in a perfectly acceptable Old World greeting, stepping back, bowing politely, and letting the gathered portion of her long skirts back down, for all intents the humble Sister once again.

"My thanks, dear Lady, for a truly inspiring dance. I hope that you will enjoy the rest of your evening - I know I intend to."

Corrina gasps lightly as Nathicana leans in, then sighs in relief as she kisses her cheeks. She backs away, visibly flustered and offers a hurried bow. "Yes, yes, thank you." She turns, moving hurriedly back into the crowd.

Draconis was rather surprised that a girl as young as Vicotira would be attending this sort of celebration. A moment later, he realized that as they would all forget the events of the evening, it hardly mattered in the end. The elf looked down at the young Princess, smiling, and doing his best to sound as friendly as possible.

"Quite right my little Vicotira, I'm your brother-in-law, and you are an extremely adorable little girl. "

Vicotira smiles up at Phaeton expectantly.

Draconis looked about, smiling at the irony of the situation. In most cases, he had never before met the leaders that had attended. The next day, they would be just as much strangers as before.
Noting the Vicotira's expectant expression, he responded. Stooping slightly, Draconis offered his hand to the young Princess.

"Well little one, would you like the next dance?"

ooc: last post today

Vicotira grings brightly. "Of course!" She slides her tiny hand in his, following him to the floor. When they arrive, she places her tiny slippered feet atop his larger ones and giggles lightly. "Uncle Danwyth lets me dance with him like this."

'Sister' Nathi has the good grace not to laugh as the sidhe woman makes her hasty retreat, and to her credit, she does blush slightly as she presses fingertips gently to her lips to stifle a smile.

Turning her attention back to the rest of the room, she looks on with renewed interest, taking in the strange costumes, and the stranger natives with a curious air.

One thing that had bothered her slightly was the talk of 'dead walking' and all, though her logical mind said that this could not be so. Nor indeed was it something she would wish to experience at any rate. Some of the revelers did make her wonder, all the same, despite her insistence that the rumor was something to add flavour to the event. Now and then, she almost swore she caught a glimpse of what seemed a familiar but impossible face.

She chalked it up to an overactive imagination, and nerves already tingling from the odd stimuli available in this new, strange place.

The Shadow Queen watches the dancing with a wry grin, sitting silently for a long moment, content to drink her wine. After some time has passed, she moves shakily, yet somehow elegantly, to her feet. “Good evening, my loyal subjects. The time has come for the evenings tasks. Each of you shall approach the throne and be given a command so as to better explore yourself. Please approach the throne and bend your knee to receive a geasa, one by one." She looks first to Nathicana.

A whafu?

Heralding from a frighteningly mundane society, and more than a little behind the times in certain terminologies, especially of the magical variety, Nathicana is more than a little confused at the name assigned the tasks. Still, it seems that logically, this is what the Shadow Queen had mentioned earlier, and if it is part of the game ... why not?

She approaches with a soft, demure smile, humbly bowing her head as she kneels. "As you command, so do I obey," she murmurs, again rather amused at it all, and still regarding much of this 'magic nonsense' as simply technology she has yet to understand.

Hard to enjoy the party if one does not participate in the local customs and competitions, after all. Explore myself? What in hell does that mean anyway?

The Shadow Queen takes Nathi's chin in her hand, raising her head to look into her eyes. "You are not use to serving, girl. You are used to having your commands obeyed. But tonight, you shall be a servant, a Virgin Bride of an Impotent God. You shall select one man or woman, human or commoner but not noble, and..." She pauses. "Are you married, girl?"

"Married? No, not anymore," she murmurs in a bit of confusion, idly toying with the simple ring on her left hand as her thoughts go to Devon and the pending wedding. The term 'virgin' nearly brings a giggle from her, but the strangeness of the situation helps stifle it. "And again, not yet." Her eyes narrow slightly, feeling something is definitely amiss, but not able to put a finger on it. "Why?"

The Dark Queen continues. "You must pick any human or commoner in the room and become their servant for the night. You will do as they command, though they might grant you leave to socialize on your own, should they so choose. The choice of master or mistress is yours, but binding til the dawn, once made."

"That sounds ... simple enough," she says, studying the Shadow Queen thoughtfully, though a shiver of trepidation runs through her all the same. Too many memories, long past, for her to dismiss the hesitation out of hand.

"As you command, Your Imperial Highness," Nathicana says formally, feeling on some level that something more binding indeed than simple words has just transpired, but not understanding quite what. "By your leave," she murmurs, waiting to be dismissed, already going over those she had observed tonight in her head, weighing and measuring who would be a good choice.

The Shadow Queen waves a hand. "Dismissed, girl. Go find one to call you servitor." She smiles a little, her gaze moving over the crowd, landing on Victoria next.

Nathicana nods and moves back into the crowd, golden-brown eyes searching faces, thoughtfully considering those who seem to fit the criteria, given the rather backwards traditions of Samhain.

One who catches her eye is Edward Newton, though she doesn't know his name ... another, Nassau Owen, who seems to be human enough. Even the lady dressed in black leather and angelic wings was given a cursory glance, her reasoning being that if she showed that which she wasn't, there might be a certain level of safety there.

Unfortunately, experience had taught her otherwise. For now, she remained uncertain.

Victoria Marquez, clearly startled by the Shadow Queen's sudden attention to her, gives a wary look to her husband before approaching the throne and kneeling. "What do you command, Your Highness?" she asks, looking up from where she kneels with a hint of defiance in her eyes.

President Marquez eyes the Shadow Queen, awaiting an answer as well.

Sarren's gaze follows Nianki as she retreats. Dance? I don't dance, I am the music, a secret smile appeared across her face.

Sarren had grown up with various education on the extensive types of dance and movement. She was considered a natural. She had been performing "dance" since she was three starting with classical tap-dancer and excellorating up and beyond that. She had won endless trophies and prizes, but did not travel in the numerous companies that asked her. She focused on getting an education in general and then to government and diplomat stature. She loved the music, but felt out of place here, not normal for her. Has she be the outfit.

Music floated and touched her ears, touched her very soul. She closed her eyes and her body began to sway with the music. The feathers seeming to follow and float along with her, she was not alone now. She picked up her pace to match the beat and tone of the song. Her arms fluid and years of choreography automatically came into play. She danced around, still with her eyes closed and managed not to bump into anyone.

A smile continued to speard across her face and her mind on the music. She danced...

The Shadow Queen takes the wine from Vor with a grin. "Oh, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just a bitch. Kind of the requisite for this job." She winks at him as she tucks the wine away. "I'll find something interested for you to do tonight."

"To interesting times," Vorian replied, grinned back, and with a sweep of deep blue military coat, disappeared into the dancing throng. It wasn't the impressive regalia worn by officers, but a standard field uniform. ((Think FMA, but with fewer insignia and imbellishments. (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v485/Weyr/ts3.jpg)))

There was the dancing 'darkangel' lost as though in a dream. She seems happy alone, the ordermaster decided. A woman was sweeping the crowd, looking for someone, or something. Solitary figures and pairs conversed quietly. Vorian shifted through the crowd, a person changed in look, if not in inner form.

The Shadow Queen smirks faintly. "At least you are married. You should take comfort. Those are oaths that all must respect, even on Samhain. Your task might be more...amusing, were you not. As is, go into the dressing room down the hall. You will find an outfit there laid out for you. I expect you to change into it and wear it for the rest of the night."

Draconis danced rather slowly, considering the much shorter legs of his new little sister. Though he normally tried to avoid young children, Vicotira was much more endearing than most. Looking about to avoid running into any of the other creatures dancing around the hall, Draconis noted the Shadow Queen giving out orders. Thinking to himself with some trepidation what his fate would be, a pointed ear perks up trying to catch a word of what task the others were being assigned.

Turning his attention back to the little Princess dancing on his feet, Draconis speaks with a pleasant tone.

"Well, if Uncle Danwyth lets you dance like this, I am happy to let you do the same."

Victoria curtseys slightly as she stands up and turns for the indicated corridor, slightly relieved by the Queen's words, yet still wary of what costume awaits her. The thought that nobody will remember this night seems a slight comfort to her now, because she's certain whatever the Shadow Queen has in store for her to wear would be far more revealing than anything she would wear to a diplomatic gathering.

Pedro watches his wife leave the room, grateful for the Shadow Queen's reassurance to his wife. He was sure that any nation ruled by such a level-headed woman as Corinna wouldn't put its guests into highly compromising situations, even if it were a holiday of sorts. He looks up at the throne, awaiting the next command.

Victoria finds a pair of bright red short shorts so high they show hints of cheek, a black silk thong, a green woman's bikini top, a bright yellow raincoat, and a Batman style cowl and cape laid out for her, with orange flip flops for the shoes.

Meanwhile, the Shadow Queen looks to Pedro next, gesturing him forward. "You, of course, must follow your wife's ways."

Pedro approaches the throne slowly and bows, kneeling. "What is your command?"

Victoria is not as furious as she would be if this night was to be remembered. But she is not happy in the least. As she changes out her clothes she can only think of what she might have been asked to do if she hadn't been married. When finished dressing, she begins the walk back to the ballroom.

The Shadow Queen smirks at Pedro. "As I said, boy, you must follow in your wife's footsteps. That is what married couples do, isn't it? I believe your pretty girl has left her old clothes in a room. They might fit you just as well, hmmm? If not, you can let the seams out a little." She smirks. As Victoria returns, she eyes her. She knows she's unhappy but...is it about how revealing the clothes are or more about the humiliatingly ludicrous color scheme?

Pedro frowns. Clearly the intention here is to humiliate him, not to help him enjoy himself. As he curtly rises and bows again, turning for the door, Victoria enters in the most outlandish outfit he's ever seen her in. Although normally he'd probably burst out laughing, the fact that he's about to be dressed even more outlandishly for a man clamps his tongue. He walks past her into the hallway. She inconspicuously turns to follow him.

Draconis notices as the Queen of the Latin Union briefly enters the room, barely able to suppress a laugh. Not in his four centuries on this earth had he ever seen someone look quite like that at a state gathering. Glancing back at the Shadow Queen, then the oddly dressed woman again, thinking to himself that it was good that no one wouldn't remember how silly they all looked. He continues dancing around with the little princess, awaiting his orders from the Shadow Queen.

((Brief OOC to Akaton: Victoria's a First Lady. My country's a democracy. Just FYI. Draconis could very easily assume she's a Queen if he's never heard of the Latin Union before, though.))

As President Marquez carefully disrobes and lays out his clothes on a table in the dressing room, Victoria paces behind him.

"We're supposed to have fun tonight, right?" she says quietly to her husband. "I don't think I'm having fun right now."

"I think the whole idea is to just laugh at each other and enjoy that," Pedro muses to her, removing the last garment and reaching for his wife's discarded clothing. "I'm not very happy with the way it's being done, either, mi amor, but at least we won't remember what happened tonight."

The Shadow Queen smiles at Pedro a little. "Try to go with the flow, dear. The nun is having a lovely time and she might have to do all sorts of...well, she isn't wed." She sighs a little, clearly disappointed he seems dissatisfied. She does, indeed, look to Draconis next.

((ooc: last post today, sorry it's late))

Draconis sees the Shadow Queen directing her attention towards him, wondering to himself if he should be worried. Turning back to Princess Vicotira, he says.

"Sorry I can't dance longer little sister, but it seems duty calls."

As he turns to walk away, he adds

"Or at least the closest thing to duty you'll find tonight."

Going up to the Shadow Queen, he bows deeply in an overly elaborate fashion.

"What is your command, Majesty?"

<quotage> Meanwhile, Edward Newton slipped through the halls of the palace. The man was unmasked, unlike most tonight. However, he was clad entirely in black, his muscled form filling out his outfit well, as his boots move soundlessly across the floor. Edward rests one hand on the pommel of his heavy blade.


Well, if one must play the part of the servant, one may as well choose one who isn't too hard on the eyes, Nathi thought to herself. After all, how bad could it be?

Her eyes once again rested on the unmasked man in black who filled out his clothing so well. She studied the way he carried himself, trying to judge if that large blade at his side was more functional or decorational. She approached him confidently at first, her steps starting to falter as she got closer, biting her lower lip as she began to second-guess herself.

She had no idea who the man was, nor what his intentions might be, but something seemed to appeal.

Though it wouldn't be the first time my instincts were wrong. Bloody hell, here goes.

"Begging your pardon, mi'lord," she says demurely. "A task of service has been laid upon my shoulders tonight, and for that, I require a willing master, who is either human, or commoner. Might you be such a one, and if so, in need of a humble servant?"

Though her tone reflects the humility of the offer, her eyes show anything but, flashing proudly, and ... mischievously.

Edward smiles down at her, letting his eyes roam over her for a long moment. He bends down and whispers conspiritorily. "What is your name, little girl?"

Little girl? Ha! I know I try to keep in shape, but ...

Tiring of the mask, she slowly removes it, letting the rest of her face show, still looking completely unrepentant, despite her continued demure voice.

"Why, if I am to be your servant, mi'lord, I suppose my name is whatever you wish to call me, no?" she says, dropping her gaze for just a moment, then slowly looking back up at the tall man. "Have I found the one I seek, or must my search continue?"

Edward smirks a little. "Then your name will be Angelica. It seems to fit you. And, yes, I will be your master. I shall have to select duties for you, of course. It wouldn't be fair to let your servitude be a passing one while the poor Latin woman has to wear..." he glances demonstratively towards Victoria "...that. It's not revealing for a party such as this but...the color scheme. In any event, come, Angelica." He waves a hand idly.

Meanwhile, the Shadow Queen looks Draconis over, pondering. Finally, she smirks a little. "You will dance with every woman in this room at least once, and you will not dance with your wife again until every other woman has had at least a turn with you."

"As you wish, master ...?" she trails off questioningly, obviously desiring a name, but trying to remember her 'place'. So far, it seemed harmless enough, and her usual control-freak nature was getting a bit of a kick out of the play, in truth. She follows along obediently, still drinking in the strange sights of the ball, curiously observing the revelers as they pass.

Edward smirks lightly. "Just master will suffice, Angelica." Edwards moves towards the refreshment table. "Get me a glass of wine, girl." He leans against the table, surveying the room. "Then kneel quietly by my side for awhile."

Nathicana arches a brow at this, chin starting to tilt up in her usual imperious way before she catches it. She nods, then smiles slightly, not trusting her tone of voice at present. Surveying the table, she chooses one of the finer wines, pouring it with a practiced flair, and out of habit, sampling the bouquet with a satisfied nod before bringing it back to him. She offers it up, then as gracefully as she can manage, kneeling near him, skirts modestly tucked under, and hands resting in her lap in an almost pious expression.

Alright, still acceptable, if a bit ... different. No wonder Gianni tired of that nattering little ...

Of course these thoughts lead down paths she would just as soon not be thinking of right now, so she pushes them aside, again watching the crowd observantly, more sharply when on occasion she almost swears she catches glimpses of those who should not be here out of the corner of her eye.

A trick of the light, and an overactive imagination after a strange night. An undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato, she tells herself, for some reason uncomfortably reminded far too much of a particular play. 'I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade ...'

Edward smiles, sipping his wine. He idly reaches down, betting Nathicana on the head lightly. "You are a pretty little serving girl, Angelica." He smiles a little, surveying the room. "Which of these ladies might I dance with?" He's largely asking himself.

Meanwhile, Danwyth approaches the woman wearing wings and not much else. "I do beg your pardon, m'lady, but I have never before danced with an angel and I would be much obliged if you would do me the honor."

She starts to respond, having already noted several ladies who seemed to be enjoying themselves and would make enjoyable partners, and then she stops herself, looking back down with a quiet smile and a slight chuckle.

Well this is certainly a diversion from the usual. At least it seems I have not chosen too poorly. Discipline - at least that's something I'm accustomed to, even if it's of late all from the delivering end of it all. Those hours when younger ....

She lets her mind wander back to her days of service, and with a tightening of her expression, further back to the state-run school she had spent all those years growing up in.

Oh yes, this was by far a less irksome servitude. After that, and several other more recent ... happenings ... she felt she could endure just about anything.

Edward pets Nathicana, smiling down at her. "You have leave to speak, Angelica. However, if you speak foolishly, your mouth will be stopped for the duration of the night." He laughs a little at that, bending to run one finger over her mouth before standing again. He turns his gaze towards the door where Victoria exited.

Nathicana's eyes flash dangerously at the threat, her usually fiery temper momentarily getting the better of her. Whether the music, the atmosphere, the general feeling of freedom despite her servitude, she found it harder to contain her emotions in this place. And at times like this, and during the satyr singing earlier, it almost frightened her.

"Of course, master," she murmurs, diverting her gaze to look at her hands to try and mask her expression as she works to master it - something usually she had a much better handle on. "There seem to be no shortage of lovely ladies who I am certain would look pretty on mi'lord's arm," she says, looking up at the crowd, her head still bowed slightly. With one hand she gestures, subtly pointing out this lady and that, taking note of his lingering gaze on Victoria.

"Perhaps mi'lord prefers a more 'forbidden' fruit?"

Edward shrugs. "She is not forbidden as a dance partner. As to anything more, marriage vows are sacred among my people, even on Samhain, when almost all other taboos are broken. Still...I would like just to dance with her. Still, for all of its ridiculousness, that outfit has a bizarre appeal. Tell me, Angelique...you did not suggest yourself. Were you seeking to be humble or do you honestly not wish to dance with master?"

"It is not my place as a servant to put myself forward for any such attentions, master," she says matter-of-factly. "At least, it is not from the frame of reference I operate from, given that is the only one I am familiar with. If my participation is desired as a dance partner, I will of course be happy to perform to the best of my ability. Nor is it my place to comment on morality, one way or another."

Nathicana does smile at that last, letting him know there is no malice or ill-will in her statements.

"It is my understanding that I am here to serve until the dawn releases me from my servitude. If this is the case, in what capacity would you have me serve?"

Edward ponders. "The First Lady is unhappy with her geasa and you must humiliate yourself to earn the right to dance. Besides, you are a more attractive woman. If you offer to trade costumes with her, I will dance with you and allow you to dance with no more than three partners of your choice before the night is through. If not, you will remain kneeling here while I seek other company and will not move or speak until I return with a task for you. I am giving you a choice in this."

"Of course," Nathicana says easily, having no problem whatsoever in displaying her body, nor being too prideful to look a little silly for an evening. All in good fun, after all, hence her choice of costume to begin with.

She does however wait for leave to rise and go after the first Lady, making an effort to play her part. "If I may be excused, mi'lord, I will go and make the good lady the offer. You are most gracious," she says with another smile.

Edward laughs. "Either you really are some kind of servant or you have a lot and know how you expect them to behave. In any event, you're rather good at this. Yes, you have my leave to go."

Nathicana gets to her feet with a fluid grace that she was only partially born with, bowing and smiling up at the man with a slightly mischievous expression.

"That would be telling, would it not?" she says, and with that, makes her way in the direction Victoria did, making quiet inquiries along the way til she comes to the room they are in, knocking politely.

"My lady, if you please, I think I may be of some assistance if you will allow."

((Nathi, OOC thread))

Victoria starts at the knock on the door. Pedro hastily ducks behind a dressing partition as she opens the door, looking at the nun with a wary gaze. "What is it you offer?" she asks.

Behind the partition, Pedro works to fit his manly frame into the tight dress. I really should read things in more detail, he thinks with rueful disappointment. I hope the night gets better soon.

"How does a modest, if not stylish, change of clothing strike you, my lady? I'm not sure if you noted," Nathi says through the door, "but I am the guest dressed humbly as a simple nun. It may not be a classy evening gown, but it would I think, ease your discomfort some. I can attest it wears well, and will not chafe."

She waits patiently, thinking that were the places reversed, she too would be wondering what the angle is.

Victoria sighs inwardly. "That is very generous of you," she says to the nun. "I'm not sure if it's allowed that we change costumes, but what the hell. Thank you." She opens the door fully and allows Nathi to enter. "Maybe you could find something more comfortable for my husband as well," she suggests with a hint of humor.

"I don't know how you women can wear these shoes," Pedro remarks from behind the partition. "And hello to whomever is out there. I apologize for not stepping out, I'm presently... indisposed."

Victoria smirks, the discomfort of the evening beginning to wear off. "I didn't get your name, madam...?"

“As it falls under my task as well, I imagine it’s allowed just fine,” she says reassuringly, stepping into the room and smiling at the woman. “Not a problem, mi’lord. And for tonight, you can call me ‘Angelica’.”

Nathicana begins to systematically remove her own costume, having never had any sort of taboos about nudity, especially in a more private setting, speaking easily as she does so as if it is the most natural thing in the world. As clothing becomes less, there are, here and there, some scars visible, one most prominently along her left side, above her hip.

“An interesting event, no? I admit, it is nothing like what I expected, and yet seems to be exactly what it is supposed to be, if that makes any sense whatsoever. Still, it is all in good fun, and if we can’t take a moment to laugh at ourselves, and for one night which we are told we will never remember anyway, take ourselves less seriously, there’s not much hope for the lot of us. The last thing I’d have thought to be doing, having clawed my way to the … “

She pauses, glancing up at Victoria and grinning impishly. “But I digress. As I said, all in good fun. I ah … hrm. If you would feel more comfortable, I could just step over here, or you could join your husband behind the screen and just toss those other clothes over.”

Draconis continued kneeling before the Shadow Queen. A rather uncomfortable position to remain in for such a long time, especially for one who had bowed to no authority but his own for over a century. Still, he remained respectful to the Shadow Queen, awaiting her permission to stand once more.

Victoria's smirk fades as Angelica begins to disrobe without even closing the door behind her. She quietly does so and eyes the scars on Angelica's body, wincing a little and wondering how they all got there, but not asking out of propriety.

At the former nun's comments, Victoria nods slightly. "My husband shares your view of the whole event," she replies. "Though it makes neither of us the more comfortable."

"Hey, I'm trying to laugh at this, but this dress is too damn tight!" Pedro announces from behind the partition. Victoria smiles a bit. Clearly her husband's dropped all his formality now, and has fully dismissed the notion that tonight was to be a diplomatic meeting.

Victoria shakes her head. "You may just turn around," she says. "I've been naked in front of other women before, but it was a long time ago during my first years in the Army." As Angelica turns away, Victoria hastily removes her embarrassing costume and steps into the nun's outfit, closing it up quickly.

“Military service builds character,” ‘Angelica’ murmurs, waiting a moment to give Victoria a chance to arrange herself before turning back and wriggling into the tight clothing. “It may not have been the most ‘fun’, but damned if it didn’t teach me a good deal. Wouldn’t be where I am today without it – and everything that came after, logically.”

She laughs a bit as she adjusts the shorts and top, sliding into the silly flip-flops and shaking her head. “Gods wouldn’t D… my friends would likely get a good laugh out of this, no doubt. I hope the two of you are able to enjoy your evening more. My lord – keep up that sense of humor, eh? Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry … well hell, they’re likely to laugh –at– you, no?”

Tossing her multi-braided hair back over her shoulder, tugging a bit on the raincoat, she twirls, letting the cape fan out. “Well, here goes nothing,” she says with a wink. “Grazie, Signora. A piu tardi.” And with that, she exits the room with a bounce in her step, and a little sway to her hips, heading directly back to Edward, bowing when she gets there.

“As you commanded, so have I done, mi’lord. Is it ... satisfactory?”

"Indeed, madam," says the President.

Victoria nods at the woman's farewell and shuts the door after her. After a moment, Pedro tenatively emerges from behind the partition in clear discomfort, trying to balance on his wife's high heels, which are far too small for him.

"Remind me to hate your tailor later," he says in a strained voice.

Victoria looks at him. "I'm glad you can find humor in this."

"Well, it's like the woman said. You must laugh these things off. I'm just wondering how they'll make sure we'll forget everything," Pedro sits on a couch in the corner very slowly, trying not to damage his wife's expensive dress. Victoria crosses to him and sits beside him in the nun's habit, unsure of what to say. "I'm not going in front of the Secret Servicemen out there like this," her husband remarks absently. She is unsure if he's still being humorous.

"I wouldn't blame you," Victoria replies. "But if you're bent on trying to enjoy yourself, you're going to have to go out there sometime soon."

"I know. Maybe I'll just take these damn shoes off." As he does so he bends over to undo them and a loud -RIP- echoes in the small chamber. "Damn."

For the first time that night, Victoria laughs at her husband. He smiles broadly and joins her.

The Shadow Queen waves Draconis off idly. Her dark gaze next turns to Vor, the corners of her tiny mouth pulling up in a faint smirk. "Come here, my good lord. The next task is yours."

Edward smiles fondly at Nathicana, scritching her lightly behind the ears. "You look...I wouldn't say lovely. You look ridiculous, yes...sexy. Come, girl." He gives an abrupt gesture and begins to move towards the dance floor, assuming she'll follow without bothering to escort.

Draconis was relieved that his task didn't involve anything particularly strange or embarrassing. Though he wasn't usually very social, having to dance with all the women in the hall was hardly an undesirable task. Rising to his feet, the elf steps slowly to the side of the hall, trying to decide with whom he would dance with first.

Draconis noticed immediately an odd change in the outfits of Victoria and Nathicana. Smirking slightly, he thought to himself that Victoria made a much more convincing nun than Nathi. His thoughts drifted back to finding a dance partner as he looked around the room.

"Of course I look ridiculous," she murmurs, stifling a grin as she follows him to the dance floor, well aware of how the outfit, or lack thereof, showcases her body, and obviously not bothered by it in the least. "As for sexy ... if you say so, mi'lord," she says demurely, completely at odds with her dress and walk.

Edward smiles a little, taking Nathi in his arms. He places one hand on her hip, taking the other in his and begins to dance. Slowly, he moves closer to her, pressing her body against his. "You are a nice servant, aren't you?"

Nathi settles into place, slipping her arms around him comfortably and following his lead. She doesn't make any effort to stop or push away, and her expression remains more than a little mischievous.

"Nice? If you say so ... master," she says with a soft chuckle, taking the opportunity to nestle in a bit as well against his strong body. "Not an attribute I suppose I'm used to hearing, I suppose. Stubborn ... prideful ... temperamental ... vengeful, even. If it comes down to it, 'dangerous' is a broad word I've more often heard through roundabout means, but if 'nice' you see and 'nice' you desire, then 'nice' it is, mi'lord."

She dances without any obvious care for the silliness - nor lack of coverage - of her attire, at times adding a bit of emphasis here and there to her movements, letting her hands wander a bit as the dance allows.

"If I may be so bold as to inquire, mi'lord ... would you do your servant the honor of better knowing your fine self?"

He pulls her closer, running a hand over what's exposed of her cheek. "Yes, nice. Whatever else you may normally be, tonight you are the epitome obedience. If not, you'll have to be punished." He says this half-playfully, with more innuendo than threat. "It all depends on what you mean by being better aquainted. You may speak freely for the rest of the dance. I promise not to have you silenced for anything you might say."

The Resurgent Dream,

If you don't pay The Roman Party, 1,000,000,000,000 (1 trillion) in your currency, we shall bomb your nation into submission!
*sigh* If that was an IC post, prepare to get glassed. Seriously. I'll make another thread and send in stuff that makes a Super Star Destroyer look like a cheap trinket.

@Resurgent Dream: I assume that trolls have at least two genders and that they can do something besides bashing. Otherwise, I'll chage this post.

Danced with a troll who apologized profusely every time she stepped onto the ordermaster's toes. Vor didn't mind, but he did give up trying to explain to the troll that his legs were made of mithril steel. He didn't get to visit other nations miuch, but neither did she, so conversation was........

((The Roman Party: Ignore. I'll post why in the OOC thread.))

The trolless smiles at Vor. "So tell me about your homeland?" The woman is dressed in an Elizbethan court gown, complete with high collar and hoop skirts. The bulging muscles of her arms look almost comical coming from the frills of the dainty sleeves.

OOC@ The Roman Party:
<IGNORED> (for now, anyway)
I'd be more than happy to deploy the Imperial Sky Navy in protection of Resurgent Dream if you start a new thread for that purpose. That war obviously doesn't fit in this thread, so don't waste your time posting it here.
____________________________________________________

IC:
Draconis searches the crowd for a potential dance partner, his gaze falling upon Duchess Nianki. She seemed to him as good as any other for fulfilling his task. Walking over to the sidhe, he spoke in a light hearted tone;

"It would seem that my task on this Samhain is to dance with everyone here. I do hope you wouldn't mind helping me fulfil this."

Simultaneously, he focused his thoughts on Aiwyn, speaking in wordless thought.

"Hello my love, I'm afraid I'm obligated by the Shadow Queen to dance with every woman here. Plenty of time to enjoy the party I suppose, but..."

Trailing off, he wondered if anyone would actually receive the message through this chaotic party. Sighing, he turned his attention back to Nianki.

Nathicana laughs lightly, quite amused at the 'threat' of punishment, for her own reasons - not the least of which being she simply cannot fathom it actually happening, as arrogant as that may be on her part.

"Well then, if freely it is," she says, shifting against him in a deliberate tease, "Let me say that if punishment or silencing were desired, I dare say you would have your hands full. That aside, tell me about yourself, if it please mi'lord. By your build I would say you are no stranger to work and take care to keep yourself fit. The sword could mean many things, but given the spirit of the evening, no proper discernment can be made without fear of mistake. Even your behaviour here leads to more questions. Is it you, is it affectation?"

Grand Duchess Nianki smiles to Draconis. "It would hardly be proper to deny a nephew, would it?" She takes him in her strongly muscled arms, beginning to lead without seeming to much notice.

Edward laughs a little. "I doubt I could take you if you seriously meant to resist. However, you strike me as a woman too proud to give into her pride when given the challenge of playing the servant, if that makes any sense." He presses against her as well, teasing with his muscular body. "No bond short of an actual marriage vow is held to be binding on Samhain. Nonetheless, I would ask if you have a lover, Angelica?"

"Perceptive too? I have made an interesting choice, have I not?" she murmurs, taking a moment to seriously study his features, her gaze lingering on his eyes, weighing and measuring yet again, the corners of her lips still turned up in a mischievous smile.

"None short of? Then let me say this: A lover I have, and a promise of marriage as well, though none hold me in any such bonds as you may mean in matters of the flesh." Her smile takes on a secretive quality as she thinks of Devon fondly, at that moment loving him just that much more for his understanding and acceptance of her and her nature. Her smile broadens slightly as she also thinks of a certain warlord and her ability to keep him utterly perplexed by the same accord.

"And what of you, mi'lord? Have you ties or whims or desires that bind?"

Edward leans forward and kisses her lightly on the lips. "I have whims and desires, but nothing that binds. Your betrothed, I will venture to say, is a very lucky man. Though I also consider myself lucky to have you for tonight. You are a very beautiful woman and you fill me with pride. I have never known a human like you before. I had always known there were human nobles in this world but I assumed they had none of the grace and bearing of nobility, just functional administrative skills. However, serving wench though you be, you are noble. In your true life, I would wager you are at least a baroness."

She doesn't resist, returning the kiss very lightly, one brow arching up as he speaks. "Odd ... I would say I am the lucky one in that pairing," she admits truthfully, as she smiles quite warmly at the rest, shifting against his strong body again.

"Though you do me far too honor with your compliments. Any 'nobility' I may or may not possess certainly comes from no bloodline that I am aware of. Perhaps my current 'incarnation' of servant tonight is more true to form than you might think? Besides, contessa, baroness, queen or Empress - are not one and all servants to the nation and people they rule and preside over? In which case, your reasoning leaves you no closer to the truth than before in learning my identity - if indeed that is even your aim."

The trolless smiles at Vor. "So tell me about your homeland?" The woman is dressed in an Elizbethan court gown, complete with high collar and hoop skirts. The bulging muscles of her arms look almost comical coming from the frills of the dainty sleeves.

"The original? A place for fools who can't see beyond their own noses. The real? Wye...I suppose....not as beautiful as this land, by any means, you can't even see the sky between the towers. Still...it's a place, a city, with towers that rise above the clouds......where you can do anything.....be anything.....for a price...." Vor searched for the right words.

How to describe something that was an idea more than a place, a megapolis of four hundred million souls, a place where a beggar could become a lord overnight and the dead could come back...for a price. There was always a price. Freedom of endless choices resulted in terrible crimes. Accdents killed thousands. The clans used tanks and mercenaries in daylight turf wars. The trolless might have felt the coldness of his hands through the ordermaster's white gloves. Vor tried to skirt the details...

"It's not a place fitting for this occasion. But what about your land?" Vor asked, as they shifted around the hall, moving to the haunting music.....

Edward smirks. "Perhaps, later in the evening, I shall get to know you better." He pulls her closer, running his hands over her. "But remember, you are mine and not the other way around and your freedom of speech is at an end, girl." He smiles as the dance comes to a close. "Do you intend to use one of your three free dances on the next turn? If not, you have work to do."

Then trolless smiles a little. "There is a great deal of hunting and jousts. The countryside is beautiful and still filled with the great beasts of legend. Pathways to the dreaming remain open in many, many places. Yet, the shadows are deeper as well, especially tonight."

Something in his tone, or perhaps just the possessive words, in play or not, triggers something in the woman, and for the first time, her confident, teasing façade slips. It isn’t a blatantly obvious thing, but she tenses slightly under his hands, her eyes taking on a more guarded expression as she remembers the last time someone had treated her as ‘owned’.

Suppressing a shiver, she smiles in return, determined to play the part as agreed. “That would not be for me to say, master,” she says as respectfully as she can manage, “given that I was told only that I would be able at some point to choose three, not that I would be given a choice as to ‘when’.” Feeling a bit more serious than she had earlier, she obediently waits to see which it is he prefers.

He isn't Cesare. This is all in fun. And if things -do- happen to get bad, I can handle it.

Edward gives her a reassuring smile when she tenses, light, good-humored. He gives a little wink to remind her that it is, indeed, a game. "Nonetheless, you may choose when. Would you take one of them now or no?"

Victoria opened the door from the hallway to the ballroom and stepped lightly out, her husband - the most powerful man in the whole of the Latin Union - following her in a dress. A dress with a big tear at its buttocks. He'd put his own pants back on to cover his pride underneath the dress, and had donned his own shoes again to avoid discomfort, but other than that he'd fulfilled his geasa. He inconspicuously found a place on the wall and took up a spot with his wife, uncertain as to what to do now. Victoria went to the banquet table and picked up a cupcake to nibble on. The two soldiers stationed at the table, having not moved since the beginning of the evening, turned to look at her and stifled the urge to laugh. But on turning to find the President, they couldn't hold it in. Both young men burst into loud fountains of laughter, and their President looked back at them and chuckled, feigning a curtsey. The First Lady walked over to him and with a smirk, feigned crossing him in hier nun's outfit. "God be with you, you poor, misguided soul," she said loudly enough for the soldiers to hear. Pedro laughed out loud and the soldiers nearly fell out of their chairs. Finally, it seemed, all their trepidation had faded.

Nathi nods, her own smile warming again, and remaining so as she scans the crowd. "Perhaps the next then," she says arching a brow slightly, curious as to what all the gentleman has in mind, and given that she has chosen him to be companion til dawn, in no small measure wishing to get a better 'feel' for him as well. All natural paranoia aside, he has been an enjoyable partner ... and she was, after all, here to enjoy. "What tasks might you intend, mi'lord?"

Edward ponders. "Well, after the party has been going on so long, the restrooms doubtless need cleaning. You could carry things for me, make me food and drink. Or, perhaps there can be tasks simply to humble you and to no other end." He keeps one arm around her as he walks towards the refreshments, grinning brightly.

Draconis followed the Grand Duchess across the dance floor, glad to be led for once. He was surprised by Nianki's strength, her graceful sidhe form disguising a muscular physique. However, his thoughts were elsewhere, on the promise of things to come later this evening.

The prospect of the dead walking amongst the living filled Draconis with equal measures of anticipation and dread. Though in his experience death was hardly a one way trip, the enchanting quality of this night made it seem all the more dramatic.

As Draconis thought this, another thought popped into his head. That thought being one of curiosity.

"Thank you, you are a very good dancer. Forgive me if I make for a dull conversation, but I don't know you nearly as well as I should, being related and all."

Nianki blushes faintly, continuing to dance. "Well, we have only been related a short time. And I am only your Aunt-in-Law, after all."

Draconis shrugged, responding casually,

"I suppose it hardly matters in the end, I would forget anything I learned about you by morning."

Nianki laughs. "Ask me anything, Draconis. My life is an open book. I have done nothing I am ashamed to tell."

The restrooms? Is he mad? Gods, but he is lucky this is for fun, or I would give him a taste of 'Dread Lady' in rare form. I've had men quivering like jelly at the mere thought of being brought before me, and here he is, talking about humbling me. Bah!

The raven-haired woman does her level best to not give anything away, nodding her head as she walks along with him. "Of course ... master. That is your perrogative. I am nothing if not humble and willing to serve," she says, smiling wryly.

The air. Something about the air here. So help me, I feel like my emotions are jumping back and forth like a rabbit evading a hawk. And his flirting isn't helping, damn his hide, she thinks, more amused than not all the same. Most definitely not hard on the eyes, and just enough so to the touch, after all ...

Edward kisses her lightly on the cheek and gives her a swat on the rump. "Go get me some club sandwiches and punch, girl. And put something into that walk." He watches her appreciatively, idly commenting to a nearby partygoer "If I could remember, I'd make a note that I owe the Shadow Queen big."

Nathicana yelps slightly at the swat, her eyes widening, and her chin coming up in that imperious way she yas, her usual temper flaring up.

"Why y..." She cuts herself off mid-thought, putting her smile back in place as quickly as it had flown, showing perhaps a bit more of her teeth than is totally necessary. "You are too kind, mi'lord," she ammends, bowing, though she keeps her eyes on his when she does.

The woman turns on her heel - as best as she can manage in the flip-flops that is - and stalks off to retrieve the requested goodies, remembering part way there to emphasize that swing, which she does almost defiantly. And quite provocatively. Muttering under her breath in her native tongue, she gathers several tasty-looking sandwiches and a glass of punch. Maintaining her smile all the way back to Edward, she walks in a way that borders on scandalous, offering up the desired items with a bow.

Remember what you told that other couple ... it's all in good fun. Stiff necks and all, she tells herself

He casually eats the food and sips the punch. He doesn't take the plate from her hand and each time her takes a sip of punch, he returns it to her hand as though she were a tray. "Thanks, girl."

The disguised Emperor quietly slipped out, looking for something a little more private, for now at least.

Susan Fulsome straightened her naval uniform, smiling beneath her white half-mask. The blond human was not the beauty some women here were but her slightly plump figure was pleasant and her smile was friendly. Nonetheless, she had been doing poorly. Perhaps because she was an average woman. Perhaps because of her race. Humans were often not viewed as highly as fae. Now, however, she was giggling and blushing. The Shadow Queen had just told an Emperor that he had to dance with everyone and everyone included her. She looked at Draconis eagerly.

Nianki laughs. "Ask me anything, Draconis. My life is an open book. I have done nothing I am ashamed to tell."

Draconis smiled slightly at the remark, continuing to dance.

"No regrets, eh? That is a luxury few such as ourselves can claim to have. In all honesty I cannot say the same about myself, though I am perfectly willing to discus anything you might like to know."

He paused a moment, giving though to what he would ask.

"As for what I want to know, just about anything would do. However, I am interested in what a Grand Duchess does in the Empire."

As Draconis awaited Nianki's response, he notices a human woman who looks like a naval officer looking intently at him. He returned the glance, winking at her. He made certain to remind himself to dance with her next.

Nianki smiles. "That is simple. She rules a Grand Duchy." She pauses a moment. "I suppose that is not very useful, is it? My word is law for four million subjects, divided into twenty regular duchies. I have the smallest Grand Duchy because I am the youngest sister. Beatrice has eight million subjects in forty duchies. I enforce my sister's laws and rally troops to her command when the hue and cry is issued, but other than that I am the ruler of my lands. I am also fourth in line for the title of High Lady Gwydion, a title my sister currently ranks among her own. Unlike most titles, the crown included, the High Lordships and High Ladyships fall to siblings before children."

The number is rather higher than what Aiwyn has in the Resurgent Dream now, though she sits by Draconis's side on the throne of Akaton and stands to inherit the whole Empire of the Resurgent Dream. As an imperial princess, Aiwyn currently has two million subjects under her rule, divided into twenty duchies.

Then trolless smiles a little. "There is a great deal of hunting and jousts. The countryside is beautiful and still filled with the great beasts of legend. Pathways to the dreaming remain open in many, many places. Yet, the shadows are deeper as well, especially tonight."

"Shadows?" Vor asked. "Oh...shadows...it is dark, for a celebration, though not unfitting. Looks like I'll have to take my duties seriously for once..."

As the dance began to come to a close, Draconis replied.

"Hmm, most interesting. I suppose, in Akaton, a Grand Duchess would be the equivalent of an Imperial Lord. There are three Imperial Lords, each ruling one of the three great cities of Akaton. The capital city is the sovereign domain of the Emperor and Empress, Aiwyn and myself. However, there are all manner of lesser nobles, far too many to list here."

After a moment's pause, Draconis added,

"Well, before we part ways, is there anything you would like to ask me?"

He casually eats the food and sips the punch. He doesn't take the plate from her hand and each time her takes a sip of punch, he returns it to her hand as though she were a tray. "Thanks, girl."

Nathicana waits patiently as she can, her natural tendency to react rather strongly to anyone thinking to lord over her fighting with her stubborn nature and determination to see this through to the end with grace and style.

It is a damnably good thing no one will remember this. Oh my yes. And an equally damnably good thing he's as easy on the eyes, and seemingly as fun as he is, or this would be really difficult.

Nianki smiles a little. "Do you have kings and queens in Akaton, as well?"

Edward finishes his food and drink, handing them to Nathi. "Go throw these away please."

Seeing her, Agwene moves for the trash can, smiling graciously and falling into step alongside the Imperatrice. "You're handling this rather well. It goes to show what fine lady you are, I would say. In any event, I came over to give you a brief reprieve from being lorded over." She turns, looking at Edward, before looking back at Nathicana and winking. "He is cute though, no?"

The Shadow Queen watches Vor, beckoning him with her fingers.

The trolless shrugs. "Not what I meant, exactly." She turns, breaking away. "Looks like Her Majesty is ready for you."

"Thank you," Vor bows to the trolless.

He strides to the Queen, booted feet clicking lightly against the stone floor, blue military jacket shifting slightly around him, as though alive, before stopping at the foot of the black throne.

"Milady," he descends to one knee. "I am at your service."

The Shadow Queen studies Vor for a long moment. Her black eyes seem to take him in entirely, even as her lips open and close more than once. She seems at a loss before she finally smiles. Raising her lithe, sensual form smoothly from the throne, she beems down at him. "You...you I will charge with the greatest geasa of all. You will dance with me until I tire and wish to return to my duties as queen. Passion before duty, after all."

She steps down from the throne, offering a hand to Vor. "You are, I think, the handsomest man in the room and what I think is law tonight." She winks at him.

The trolless watches from a distance, frowning faintly. Dammit. The queen stole her dance partner. She moves back into the crowd, hoping to find another. Trolls do not dance often and it was a rather special experience, even if she will forget the whole thing when the sun rises over the horixon in the morning.

Nathi chuckles quietly, giving Agwene a sly wink. “Oh, that he is … that he is. My thanks, Princess, all the same. This has been … harder than I would have thought, though. One wouldn’t think it so difficult to bend one’s stiff neck for an evening, no? It brings a few things into sharp contrast, I’ll grant you that.”

She disposes of the trash, taking a napkin and wiping her hands as well before adding that to the bin. “I hope your mother wasn’t too terribly disturbed by our bit of fun. She seems quite the lady, and I’d hate to have offended.” This gives her pause, and then she laughs. “Not that she’ll remember I suppose. And given that,” she adds in a conspiratorial tone, still smiling, “I don’t suppose you could offer me more information on my current ‘master’ by any chance? I believe I chose wisely, but … knowledge is power, and I’m used to having more than a bit of both.”

Agwene smiles reassuringly. "It can be hard to play the servant. Even if one has been subjected to such discipline in the past, it is hard to return to it when you know in the back of your mind that you rule a million peo...Well, actually, it's billions in your case, isn't it? I'm honestly glad Aiwyn's the heir and not me. Even the full population of our Empire boggles my mind, much less your billions. I get enough stress from my own principality."

Agwene shrugs. "She is quite the lady but she still deserved it. The harshness of her reaction to Queen Elaine's engagement to Countess Catherine was utterly uncalled for.And she's lucky too. Not many people get to dance with so lovely a partner."

Agwene glances at Edward, studying him a moment. "I think I've seen him before. He's one of the grooms, I think. He's in line to be stablemaster, if I'm not mistaken."

Agwene pauses. "I should let you get back to your revelry." She gives Nathi's hand a light, friendly, squeeze. "I'll see you later." Then she turns, gliding off.

"Your wish is law, milady," Vor replied, taking her hand offered lightly, rising as the Queen stepped down from the thone. "An ordermaster can't lie. I'd dance with you to the end of the world."

The Shadow Queen smiles, easily allowing herself to be led. "Ordermaster or not, you do flatter me, you know."

Draconis looked at Nianki with a quizzical expression.

"Kings and Queens? No, at least not any more. For over a thousand years, Akaton has been a united empire, we have no individual kingdoms within our borders. The whole Imperium answers to me, and now to Aiwyn as well. Since most of the people in Akaton live within four massive cities it is extremely easy to govern. The Imperial Lords and the lesser nobility handle the less important aspects of government, leaving crucial decisions to Aiwyn and myself."

Nianki nods, pulling away as the dance ends. "Most informative, nephew. Thank you for the dance."

Nathicana arches a brow at that, for her own reasons just that much more intrigued by the man knowing even that little about him. She looks him over again with a newfound appreciation and smiles, nodding quietly. “I thought he had good hands,” she murmurs.

Looking back to Agwene, she smiles again. “Too many, Princess. Far too many for one person to feel secure in watching over, believe me. When faced with such a task, a bit of delegation, within reason, is what’s required. I think you sell yourself short, all the same. You would make a fine ruler. Again, I thank you for the compliments, and for taking the time here with me. I may not remember tonight, but I do and will remember your grace and bearing at the coronation. Enjoy your evening, your Highness.”

With a graceful curtsey, despite her ridiculous attire, she winks at Agwene as she leaves, and slowly makes her way back to Edward, the mischievous smile back in place. “Is there anything else you require, master?” she asks, looking up at him inquisitively.

Draconis looks to Nianki as she departs,

"Thank you, you make a wonderful dance partner. I understand your Empire a good deal better, for the next few hours at least."

He turns away scanning the crowd for the woman he had noticed watching him earlier, Susan Fulsome. Making his way across the room, the fringe of his coat of woven shadows sweeps along, fading like smoke yet constantly reforming itself. He walks slowly yet gracefully, taking full advantage of his rather unsettling appearance.

Amaranth groaned and slowly opened her eyes to as the last rays of the setting sun were filtering in through the curtians. As she groggily reached to pull down comforter over her head, the thought hit her...sunset. "By the bloody hells," she murmered outloud as she leaped out of the bed, grasping her head, a pounding headache reminding her sharply of exactly how much she had overindulged the previous evening.

She reached for the bottle of wine that was sitting on the nightstand and chugged the remnats, hoping it would be enough to ease the pain. Nothing I can do about the time she wryly thought to herself, glancing at the setting sun, if I'm going to arrive late at the Imperial Palace better sans hangover than with one.

Amaranth quickly showered and then looked in the mirror. It may have taken hours for her crimson streaked raven tresses to be placed in the complicated mass of braids she wore, but on the plus side, it was not a style given over to becoming mussed. So far, so good.

She went to the wardrobe and reached for the inticately worked velvet and silk gown that she was supposed to wear to the masque tonight. She held it up, scowling, then dropped it, leaving it crumpled upon the floor. Instead she donned a pair of tight black leather lace up pants, thigh high black suede boots, and a black silken corset embrodiered with red dragons. With a hint of a grin playing around her full lips, Amaranth returned to the mirror and painted a tribal design in red and black around her eyes and down one half of her face. She glanced in the mirror, nodding to herself in satisfaction. She was attending a masque afterall. Certainly this was not an outfit one would normally expect to see a Princess of the Empire of Scarlet Dreams wearing -especially at an official function (at least that is what her parents said everytime they caught her wearing such things). Besides, she thought to herself, by tomorrow no one is going to remember who I am or what what I was wearing anyway, and if they do remember and care enough to comment to the King and Queen, what is the worst that could happen? Oooohhh... they might think twice about sending me away on anymore silly 'diplomatic missions.' The grin blossomed into a full fledged smile. This was definitely a win-win proposition.

Amaranth hurried out of the room and quickly hired conveyance to the Imperial Palace.

****************************

As Amaranth walks into the ballroom, the masque is already well underway. She surveys her surroundings, drinking in the dark candle lit atmosphere. Seeing that the throne is currently vacant, she quickly ducks in among the revellers, hoping to blend in enough so that her tardiness will not be overly noticed. She silently wanders around watching the dancers swirl around the floor, noting the elegantly dressed couples publically exchanging intimacies, and recaps being, well... redcaps. Overhearing the words 'Is there anything else you require, master,' Amaranth glances over just in time to notice that they were spoken by a woman with the proud bearing of a warrior dressed in the most sublimly ridiculous outfit imaginable. Arching a delicate eyebrow and biting her lip , she turns quickly, hoping to hide her amusement from the couple only to be confronted by the sight of a nun sharing a joke of somekind with a crossdresser. No longer able to contain her amusement, she bursts into laughter, a melodic sound that can only come from the throat of a Sidhe emerging from her throat. A mischievous grin twists the corners of her mouth. "Beautiful," she whispers, "absoultely beautiful."

She heads toward on of the banquet tables, seeking a glass of wine. It's almost a shame I won't be able to remember this in the morning. Ah well, it's not like it be the first time that has ever happened. I'll just enjoy it while I can, she muses, slowly savoring her drink.

Susan Fulsome grins as Draconis approaches. A soft blush colors her cheeks and she lowers her eyes demurely to the ground.

Agwene smiles as Nathicana heads away, watching the woman for a moment. Shaking her head with a smile, she turns away and walks back towards the dance floor, pausing to look at Amaranth entering. She looks the woman over with a smile, moving that way. "Good evening."

Edward smiles as Nathi returns. "Why don;t you just kneel for the time being, my sweet?" He smiles as he pats her on the head.

Oh this is rich. Simply rich. The Dread Lady, and now, Imperatrice of the Dominion, made ruler by her own hand, dark-hearted tyrant and iron-fisted leader ... reduced to playful slave status to the head groom of a foreign nation, she thinks with a wry, amused smile. Alright, perhaps not so dread and dark as I once was, but still. I wonder ... would he take me to see the horses if I asked? Can't help but wonder the sorts they have in this strange land. Perhaps a good infusion for my own stables.

"As you wish," she says, making a brief curtsey of sorts and gracefully kneeling down in a single fluid motion, settling in with her back straight and proud, her hands resting gently in her lap ... once she has let one trail down along his backside and thigh as if to steady herself, of course.

Nice ... very nice.

He laughs. "And you were about to rebuke me for feeling you up, Angelica?" She pets her fondly, smiling a little. "Do you see any men you wish to dance with, or perhaps the young lady you were chatting with? I suppose you will have to dance with Draconis, anyway. Would it be overly cruel of me to count that in your three free dances?"

"Cruel or kind, that is your perrogative, is it not?" she asks, looking up at him with a secretive little smile. "I can see many men I may wish to dance with, if they are willing, but then, I always have enjoyed the company of men so I suppose that comes as little surprise. As for 'feeling you up', why ... I've no idea what you might be referring to, master."

Upon hearing herself addressed, Amaranth shifts her attention to the figure she had vaguley noted as approaching, feigning surprise in order to give herself a moment to more closely assess the person greeting her. The woman's facial features, bearing, and elegant garb marked her as a memeber of the Imperial family hosting the masque.

Relaxing, Amaranth allows her natural reactions take over, a smile shaping her lips, a hint of amusement showing in her eyes. "Actually, my Lady, I would say this has the makings of a most delightful evening."

As Draconis moves towards Susan, he stops short. Annoyed by her overly formal reaction to his approach, the elf mutters to himself.

"Every damn time."

Draconis walks up next to her, bending down slightly to look into her now-lowered eyes and extending a hand to her.

"Hello there, no need to be so respectful on my account. Yesterday I was Emperor, tomorrow I will be Emperor as well, but tonight, I'm just another party guest. Care to dance?"

Edward pats Nathicana lightly. "I mean your groping by buttocks, of course, pet. What did you think I meant?"

Susan nods. "Of course, I'd love to."

Agwene smiles to Amaranth. "I do hope so."

Amaranth tilts her head to the side, her demeanor taking on a serious look for a second as she glances at Agwene.

For some reason the lady's polite response filles her with a deep dread. For a millisecond reality wavers and Amaranth finds herself in a place of complete randomness, ruled by the forces of chaos, a place where absolutely anything can happen at any moment. As the ballroom swims back into focus the dread retreats replaced by a surge of adrenaline and excitement, as great as any Amaranth has ever felt during years of purposely living on the edge.

She shakes her head, drains her wine in one swallow and laughs softly. "Why just hope? Existance is only what one makes of it," she whispers, her eyes still focused on somplace seemingly far, far away.

"Begging your pardon, mi'lord. I was only trying to steady myself as I knelt. It wouldn't do to have your servant ebarrass you in front of the Court by being clumsy, no?" Nathi says, still smiling to herself.

Yes, and a fine backside it is too, master groomsman. Rather fine at that.

Draconis smiled, taking Susan's hand and beginning to dance.

"The Shadow Queen gave me the geasa to dance with everyone here, so I am sorry that I cannot dance with anyone too terribly long. I suspect that you already know who I am, but I know not your name. If you do not know me, my name is Phaeton Draconis. I am the Emperor of Akaton, and one day this land as well."

Agwene just watches Amaranth a long moment with a gentle smile upon her face. She tilts her head a little, thinking. "Madame, perhaps you would care to dance?"

Edward smirks down at Nathicana. "It is an interesting habit of courtiers, is it not, that sometimes they lie with the understanding that the person they address knows they lie, and yet they still will not speak it aloud? I've always found it an interesting conceit, if a necessary one."

Susan dances with Draconis. "Why, my dear emeror, it would hardly due to give my true name at a masquerade. For tonight, I am an admiral, commanding great fleets."

Draconis smirks slightly,

"Ah, but of course. Anonymity does have its appeal doesn't it?"

He paused for a moment, enjoying the rhythm of the music. When Draconis speaks again, his voice conveys a certain enthusiasm far different from his usually distant personality.

"So you say that you are an Admiral? A most noble career indeed. I have always had a love of commanding ships, even if they happen to be floating in air rather than water."

"'Tis no lie, mi'lord, be assured," Nathicana says in a serious tone. "I'faith, it would be a terrible thing to lose my balance at such a crucial juncture." A pause, then a subtle wriggle of her eyebrows.

"The fact that I enjoyed it immensely and let my hand linger longer perhaps than was absolutely necessary is entirely beside the point. Unless of course you find such attentions ... unwelcome? In any case, I await your pleasure." No particular emphasis is put on that last word, though the mischievous turn of her lips seems to come back as she says it.

The sound of Agwene's voice pulls Amaranth fully back into reality. She glances toward the dancefloor then looks back to Agwene. An impish smile crosses Amaranth's face as she drops into a perfectly executed curtsey, the picture of courtly decorum. "It would be my pleasure," she answers, extending her hand toward Agwene, offering the other woman the lead.

Susan smiles lightly. "I have never been on a skyship before. I've heard stories, of course. Most say they're at least as powerful as a capital spelljammer. Still, I would love to hear more of them."

Edward nods a little. "I am glad you enjoyed it. Were I you, I would use one of your dances now. You don't want to hold them off until it's too late."

Agwene fumbles awkwardly into the leading position. "Perhaps you should lead, lady. You are the taller, after all."

The Shadow Queen releases Vor, taking a step back and bowing. "I musn't keep everyone waiting. I do have a dozen or so more geasa to give out before the dead arrive. I wouldn't want to make them wait. My father will be there and he was quite the disciplinarian. He'd be rather cross." She turns at that, gliding back towards her throne. The Shadow Queen sinks elegantly into her seat, smirking a little.

Nathicana rises gracefully to her feet, and nods. "I think I'll do just that, mi'lord. Ah, so many pretties to choose from, so few choices available ... ciao, mia bella," she says, walking off, perusing the available gentlemen with a smile.

Aye, but who ... I'm not certain the lady I exchanged outfits with would relish me stealing her husband away for a dance. I think I've already scandalized them enough, the dears. Perhaps ...

Her eyes light on Vor, recently released from the Shadow Queen's grasp, and she ponders thoughtfully. Definitely a dangerous looking fellow. Perhaps interesting as well? It wasn't as though this night would be remembered anyway, but still ... why waste the opportunity?

Walking over to the man, she manages a passable curtsey, even in her ridiculous and terribly revealing attire. "If you would, sir, do me the honor of a dance?" she asks in a deceptively demure voice.

The Shadow Queen watches Agwene and Amaranth dance for a moment before raising a hand. "Young ladies, you can continue your dance in a moment. However, I do need to see our new guest for her geasa. I've just had a brilliant idea and I don't want to lose it."

The Shadow Queen then leans towards a nearby servant, whispering briefly. The servant disappears from the room, slipping into the hall. A few moments later, the servant returns, handing the Shadow Queen a small bundle which she lays in her lap. "You will forgive me if it seems uninspired. I have not had all night to watch you as I have the others."

The Shadow Queen smiles, easily allowing herself to be led. "Ordermaster or not, you do flatter me, you know."

The Shadow Queen releases Vor, taking a step back and bowing. "I musn't keep everyone waiting. I do have a dozen or so more geasa to give out before the dead arrive. I wouldn't want to make them wait. My father will be there and he was quite the disciplinarian. He'd be rather cross." She turns at that, gliding back towards her throne. The Shadow Queen sinks elegantly into her seat, smirking a little.

OOC: Apologies. between figuring out the effect of the Death Star fleet nuking Weyr, RL cr4p, and other things.....I...completely, totally forgot about this thread....*kicks self*...then again, I'm completely incapable of doing character RPs......

"As you wish, milady," Vor bowed, again. And as the Queen seated herself on the throne, he was already lost in the crowd.

Agwene turns as Amaranth is summoned. "Well, you'd better go. I'll walk up with you, if you'd like. We can continue in a moment."

The Shadow Queen smirks. "Actually, young woman, I intend to do yours at the same time. They are somewhat connected."

Agwene arches a brow faintly, nodding. She slides an arm into Amaranth's, approaching the throne and curtseying deeply. "We await your pleasure, of course, Your Imperial Majesty."

The Shadow Queen smirks, looking to Amaranth with dancing eyes. "Come up here, dearling. I had a package brought out just for you."

Amaranth looks at Agwene, and smiles wryly, "Perhaps that would be best for the both of us. Following is not exactly my strong suit."

Just as she switches into the the lead position and begins to guide Agwene around the room, Amaranth is summoned by the Shadow Queen. She begins to pull away from Agwene, but when upon hearing the Queen summon both of them waits politely leading her dance partner to the throne.

Amaranth makes her way to the Shadow Queen and drops into a deep curtsey, lowering her head slightly but keeping her eyes fixed on the Queen, letting Agwene take the lead in speaking with the Queen.

When the Shadow Queen summons her directly to the throne, Amaranth rises and glides closer towards the throne "Your Highness does me honor in even noticing my presence, and if this geasa seems less than inspired, well then, the blame is all mine for arriving when I did," she says in a humble tone, But as she can't resist her eyes again glint with mischief, and she whispers conspiratorially "besides, often the last ditch plans end up being the most effective somehow."

Her voice returns to a 'normal' courtly tone but the grin leaves neither her eyes or her face. "And to further honor me with a gift. I certainly hope it is one not more than one such as I deserves. "

The Shadow Queen reaches into the bundle in her lap. She pulls out a bandana, tying it over Amaranth's eyes. "Your geasa is to go the rest of the night without the sense of sight. Do not worry. Yoou shall have a seeing eye dog." The Shadow Queen beckons Agwene to her throne, pulling a dog collar from the bundle as the girl arrives. She fastens it around the princess's neck and then fastens on a leash. She hands the end of the leash to Amaranth.

Agwene smiles a little. "Then my geasa is to lead her about."

"Not merely." the Shadow Queen smirks, producing a dirty cloth from her bundle and shoving it past Agwene's lips, taping it in. "You are to lead her as a seeing eye dog would. No simply giving her directions."

Agwene nods, silenced. The girl again takes Amaranth's hand and places her other hand on the woman's waist. She begins to dance again, guiding Amaranth back towards the dance floor.

Pedro Marquez looks up at the Shadow Queen for a moment, just in time to see her blindfold one woman and gag another. His eyes widen and gleam with subtle indignant fury for a moment, but he merely leans against the wall he's been occupying for the past few minutes and sighs quietly. All in good fun, he tells himself. No need to worry about them, this is to help them experience life in a new way. But it seems to him as he watches the two women try to start finding their way around the room that it wouldn't be a very fun experience.

After a moment of stagnation he goes over to the banquet table and joins his wife in a second helping, making sure to fill his cup of wine to the very brim. He wishes he were in a more sociable mood right now, but given his attire he seems less inclined to try to strike up a conversation than ever before.

When he sits at the table, something in his pants pocket crinkles. Puzzled, he reaches a hand into it and withdraws the invitation he'd received to Samhain, slightly folded. He smiles at the irony of it all and sits back in his chair to fully read the stipulations of the evening.

Draconis grins as he spins Susan across the dance floor, his smile widening at her question.

"While I have never been on a spelljammer, capital or otherwise, there are few vessels more powerful than a cruiser of the Imperial Sky Navy. Besides appearance, the main difference between a sky ship and an ocean going ship lies in tactics. A sky ship must do battle in three dimensions, necessitating an entirely different combat strategy. In addition to the broadside cannons of an oceanic ship, this sort of ship also mounts turrets on the top and bottom, with a squadron of escorting aircraft covering the blind spots. Also, there is always the question of how to allocate weaponry. Some say it is best to mount weaponry in the sides, in the fashion of ancient sailing frigates, allowing for much lager numbers cannons. However, some say that small numbers of turret mounted guns are more efficient because they allow fewer cannons to cover the entire length of the ship."

He paused a moment, laughing at himself.

"There I go, ranting on and on about the details of military strategy. I must be awfully boring to listen to. However, it really would be interesting to hear your views on the best way to mount ship based weaponry, if you wouldn't mind."

As the blindfold covers Amaranth's eyes, the strong sense of otherworldliness she had experienced earlier returns, even stronger than before, and for a moment she feels as thought she is in freefall, caught somewhere between worlds. As Agwene guides her back to the dance floor, she follows along gracefully, instinctually, her mind still too far trapped in the other world for her body to realizes that it is blinded in this one.

Besides, on Samhain only a fool would truly trust her own eyes. Afterall, existence is only what one makes of it. The mocking thoughts come unbidden and Amaranth is not entirely sure if they arose from within her own mind or if they were imparted by some disembodied presence. However, the thoughts do send Amaranth's mind spiraling back fully into the reality. As this happens she stumbles slightly, catching herself on Agwene before taking a half-step backwards, and standing still, resolutely refusing to appear shaken.

"My apologies, Lady. As I said, following is not my strong suit. Rushing into things blindly, however, I excel at at. Why should I let not being able to see change that?" she quips, the corner of her mouth rising in a good natured smirk. "Perhaps a glass of wine would be nice?"

Amaranth pauses, realizing that getting a drink might be difficult for Agwene. She reaches up tentatively, gently running her fingers across the other woman's taped mouth, and thinks. "Your geasa only involves guiding me without using words, yes? Is a gag absolutely necessary in accomplishing that task?"

Shrugging off the Weyran's rebuff, Nathicana turns her attention back to the couple she'd spoken with earlier, rethinking her previous reasoning. Perhaps if I ask her permission ... after all, I'm not about to poach.

Walking over to Pedro Marquez with a smile, she again curtsies, then straightens, flashing his lady wife a pleasant smile as well. "Perhaps you are up to a quiet dance, mi'lord? After all, you cannot possibly look more silly than myself, and at least you are decently covered, no?" She looks back to the first lady and bows slightly again. "Of course, only with your Lady's permission. I wouldn't wish to impose."

Susan shrugs. "We don't really use that kind of weaponry. It's mostly done by magic or by blade."

Agwene turns towards the woman. "Mpphhmmm..." She nods as well, though there's no way Amaranth can see that. Taking Amaranth by the hand, she guides her to the refreshments, pouring her a glass of wine and putting it in her hand.

As the dance comes to an end, the smile fades somewhat from Draconis's face, his voice returning to its usual distant tone.

"Oh, I see. I'm afraid that your sort of weaponry is outside the realm of my knowledge. Not to worry, though. It has been wonderful to make your acquaintance, Admiral."

Draconis searches the crowd yet again for his next dance partner. His gaze settles this time on the current wearer of the nun costume, Victoria. Noticing that Nathicana is busy trying to deprive her of her husband, he sees an opportunity to fulfil a portion of his gaesa. Walking over, he asks her,

"I can't help but notice that your husband seems to be busy at the moment. Would you like to dance?"

Pedro glances up from the invitation and looks at the woman a moment. Before he can respond a man approaches his wife and asks her for a dance. Pedro looks back and forth at them both and chuckles.

"Seems like we've been commandeered, darling," he comments to Victoria. He rises and bows amiably to the woman in he knows as Angelica. "I would be delighted to have a dance."

"Yes," Victoria says, rising and nodding to Draconis. "I would as well."

"Excellent," Nathi says, extending her hand and letting the gentleman lead to wherever he feels comfortable dancing, taking up a comfortable, yet oddly chaste stance once they begin.

"I hope the mood has lightened somewhat from earlier, mi'lord?" she asks in a quiet voice. "And that you and your lady wife have been able to enjoy the festivities somewhat in spite of what seems perhaps to we outsiders an odd tradition?"

"Well, madam, I don't really know," replies Pedro. "I think it would take a lot more wine to make me feel more comfortable... or at least to help me not care too much about how I'm dressed." He smiles at Angelica weakly. "My wife certainly took me tearing her dress quite well, so her mood is improving. You are right, though, that this is certainly an odd tradition to people like us. I've never been to a celebration quite like this one, and coming here thinking it was a diplomatic engagement made the shock all the stronger. Next time I'll remember to read the invitation," he waves the invitation slightly, showing it to her before he slips it into his back trouser pocket through the tear in the dress.

Draconis dances calmly, letting Victoria set the pace of the dance. Partly to help alleviate her obviously uncomfortable feelings, and partly due to a subconscious and quite involuntary respect for the nun's outfit.

"So, what brings you to a party such as this?"

"My husband brought me along," Victoria replies, unconsciously beginning to lead Draconis. "I'm not currently on active duty and Pedro told me it was going to be one of the first international diplomatic balls he'd been to, so I wanted to join him. It's just that it's hard to be First Lady when you're both a soldier and a mother." Victoria looks up at Draconis. "Oh, but I don't think we've formally met," she realizes with a nervous smile. "I'm Victoria Marquez. My husband is the President of the Latin Union. What about you, sir? What brings you here?"

"I'd say the both of you have handled it all with style, nonetheless. And yes, word to the wise ... always read the fine print. If you don't see any fine print, get out the magnifying glass," she says with a chuckle.

"As for the dress, I'm certain a qualified tailor will be able to mend it well enough. The temporary discomfort oughtn't matter in the long run - I'm told we shan't remember a thing come morning. One would think it offers the perfect opportunity to cut loose and perhaps do things differently than one might usually - hence it would seem, the taskings. Perhaps offering some insight, perhaps simply a challenge? Who can say, not being familiar as I'd like to with the culture. Still, an interesting opportunity all the same."

"Yes, yes, an interesting opportunity, but not quite one that I would easily enjoy, regardless of the lack of restrictions," Pedro says. "It's interesting that you mentioned we won't be able to remember anything in the morning. I'm curious as to how that works. Am I to believe, judging by the fantastic people and creatures I've seen here tonight, that magic is involved?"

"If a formal introduction is what you want, I am Lord Phaeton Draconis. In the four centuries of my life I have acquired many titles, most notably the title of Emperor, as well as many others far too numerous to name."

Draconis bows to Victoria in a ridiculously complex manner, clearly an intentional mockery of diplomatic formality.

"I came here at the suggestion of my wife Aiwyn. She said I would like the celebration, and while it is a bit unorthodox, it is quite enjoyable none the less."

At this, he smiles.

"So, you say you are a soldier. Might I ask what part of your nation's military you serve in?"

"I suppose that sound sound means that removing the gag is not possible."

As Agwene leads Amaranth to the table by hand, Amaranth's mood darkens.
She feels the glass of wine being placed into her hand and gritting her teeth accepts it with a bland smile. She takes a deep breath stiffling the impulse to fling the glass to the ground. Instead she drains half the glass in one gulp and pauses to compose herself before speaking.

"Thank you, for what I am sure you meant as a kindness. However," she pauses, striving -perhaps futilely - to sound somewhat diplomatic- "though I realize it is no fault of your own, I find this imposed sightlessness far less annoying than having been assigned, in essence, a nurse-maid. Perhaps you could place yourself between me and anything I might unintentionally encounter, or maybe you could just yank on this damned contraption," she says, flicking the leash lightly, "if I am about to knock something over, run into someone, or stumble over something." Amaranth tilts her head a bit, her face taking on a cold, predatory grin "If, however, you find it preferable to continue fetching for me and whatnot, you can drop to your knees and act as a proper servant rather than as a nanny." She laughs "Or you could just slap me for my impudence and then figure out another way to fulfill the terms of your geasa. Truly, I apologize for any slight or inconvenince, and I really do not wish to make your night any more difficult than it already may be, my Lady, but I simply refuse to be led around like a small child."

With that, Amaranth lets the handle of the leash slip from her hand, and sips her wine slowly, head held high, her facial expression far more defiant than even she realizes.

Agwene falls to her knees immediately. "Mmmddyyy, uuuu mmpphhggg mmpphhh." SHe looks up at Amaranth, eyes widening. She presses her taped mouth to the woman's foot to show her willingness to be a proper servant. "Mph?"

The princess looks up, watching Amaranth quietly for a long moment, eyes a little hurt, though Amaranth has no way to see that. She looks down, raising the leash again and lightly pressing it to Amaranth's palm. "Mph?"

Amaranth feels the leash being gently pressed into her hands, and for a moment is too astonished to react.

What have I done now? This Lady is offering to be my plaything for the evening and I know practically nothing about her. 'Fools rush in where angels fear to tread' indeed. Well, I've certainly never been accused of being an angel. Mayhap Agwene isn't exactly angelic either.

A low, slightly menacing chuckle sounds from Amaranth as she firmly grasps the handle of the leash. Reaching down with the same hand she absent-mindedly but gently twists a lock of Agwene's hair around one finger. "Interesting choice, my pet. Quite honestly, I was more prepared for a blow. I wonder, had you known me better, would you have made the same choice?"

She trails her finger along Agwene's face lightly until she finds her chin, tiliting the woman's head so that she is looking up. Amaranth adopts a puposely cruel smile and nonchanlant tone, "Under other circumstances the first thing I would do is order that you be beaten by another servant, just so that I could have the pleasure of watching tears flow down that lovely face." She shrugs and her face softens "Or perhaps not. I am feeling rather mellow tonight, possibly because of the company. Or maybe it's just the wine."

Amaranth releases Agwene's face and hair, and holds the handle of the leash out in her open palm. "Fetch a bottle of wine for me, little one. You may return the leash and resume your position when you get back. But hurry. For right now, I would much prefer that my glass not become empty."

Wish I could see how that went over. I guess I will know soon enough whether the Lady is enjoying herself enough to return or has decided that an escape is in order.

Victoria raises an eyebrow at Draconis' statement about his age, but says nothing. When he overacts in bowing, she smiles, and waits to resume dancing. "I'm a Captain of Artillery," she says simply. "I command a battery of self-propelled howitzers."

"Yes, yes, an interesting opportunity, but not quite one that I would easily enjoy, regardless of the lack of restrictions," Pedro says. "It's interesting that you mentioned we won't be able to remember anything in the morning. I'm curious as to how that works. Am I to believe, judging by the fantastic people and creatures I've seen here tonight, that magic is involved?"

"Magic, you say? I wouldn't claim to know. Where I come from there exists no such thing ... and yet, in my travels I have come to see many things which I could not with logic explain, nor come up with any other viable explanation for. I suppose, the universe being what it is, that there exists the possibility for a good many things - more things between heaven and earth than we may ever imagine, even. That being the case, magic or no, I'm willing to go on a little faith here."

Nathicana looks thoughtful for a moment, then continues. "As for restrictions, well ... I suppose it is an opportunity to test ourselves somewhat. I've been surprised at how, with even a gentleman such as yon 'Lord' there, my patience has been tried. Such little things, yet it seems my ego is larger than I would have admitted. Perhaps therein lies some lesson of value, for myself at least. I would imagine if such lessons exist for others, it is up to them to discover what they are."

"Well, magic certainly doesn't exist in my nation," Pedro replies. "People we call 'magicians' are nothing more than expert tricksters and masters of slight-of-hand. But I've read my share of fantasy and folklore, and everything I've seen here seems to measure up to what I've read. Before tonight I had no idea such things really existed. I guess you're right in that the universe provides limitless opportunities and possibilities in life."

Pedro muses a moment over Angelica's statement on self-discovery. "I'm not quite sure what to learn about myself," he concludes finally with a chuckle. "I suppose I've learned I can't fit into my wife's dress, though!"

:eek: :gundge: Kool

Nathi laughs and nods, smiling a bit impishly. "Aye, that you have - but I must say, you still pull it off well. I admit, I can't imagine my fiancé doing the same with quite the same humor."

She dances fairly well, though lacking the natural grace of the fae in attendance. What she may lack in skill, she makes up for in her too-fluid movements and reflexes that if one were to notice seem sometimes too quick for the usual human. "I tell you what - once the dance ends, why don't we switch partners. You can dance with your lovely wife - who I think has been an excellent sport as well - I can continue to dance for a bit, and we will be assisting the other gentleman in fulfilling his task as well," she says with a genuine smile.

"Thank you again, mi'lord, for humoring me and for helping the night pass pleasantly. If we remember all this come the morrow in spite of assurances we shan't, then I look forward to perhaps an extension of more formal ties between our nations. It is always good, I think, when good people can come together and find some common ground, no? And so, on the offhand chance that some memory will remain, may I quietly introduce myself properly as Nathicana D'Aquisto, Dread Lady of the Dominion, and recently crowned Imperatrice - if you can believe that."

Agwene rises, rushing off to get a glass of wine for Amaranth. She glances helplessly about for a moment, looking at Nathicana for a bit. After a few minutes, she returns, handing the wine and the leash to Amaranth and kneeling. "Mpph mphh.."

As Draconis begins to dance once more, he notes Victoria's surprise at the mention of his age. Considering for a moment what to make of her reaction, he replies.

"Perhaps you have never before met an elf?"

Draconis gestures to his pointed ears, continuing.

"I imagine that I must seem rather strange to you. For my kind, an age of four centuries is hardly extraordinary. Indeed, there are those who would say that elves are immortal."

The Shadow Queen looks towards Corrina, beckoning her with a gesture. When Corrina arrives and falls to her knees, the Shadow Queen speaks. “Like your daughter, I found your reaction to the affair with Queen Elaine to be in rather poor taste. Unlike your daughter, I am in a position to do more than arrange a joke dance for you.” She pats her lap lightly.

Corrina arches a brow. “I am not sure what you seek, Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Shadow Queen smirks ever so faintly. “Sit in my lap, girl.”

Corrina turns red, hesitating for a long moment. After a few moments have passed, she rises slowly, settling into the high queen’s lap. The Shadow Queen held her close, smiling and whispering in her ear. Then the Shadow Queen kissed her deeply, passionately, before letting her move from the throne. Corrina shook a little as she walked away, her face bright red. A sharp slap on the behind from her temporary replacement sent her back into the crowd.

Andrew Lee was ordered to drink six beers in rapid succession. Michael Pierce had his face painted up like a clown. Brian Pierce was made to eat a farm of ants.

"Thank you, madam," Pedro replies. "You are most kind."

In response to her proposed partner change, he says, "Very good. I assume his geasa is to dance with every woman in the room?"

Pedro's eyes widen slightly in surprise at the revelation of her true identity. "Your Highness, it has been my pleasure. I would greatly look forward to strengthening the ties between our nations. I will telephone my Cabinet as soon as I can so they can remind me of my intentions when I return tomorrow."

--------------------

Victoria looks at Draconis' ears a little too long, as if trying to prove to herself they are real, then replies, "Not before tonight, no. I was overwhelmed by all the different people earlier this evening. The fact that High Queen Corinna and her family are all some form of elf surprised me greatly. I couldn't imagine what it would have been like for Duchess Beatrice to come to our nation, what with her people only known through fairy-tales back home. I can believe, though, that in a world as big as ours, anything is possible. People of all different types can exist, even ones known to some as mythical. Four hundred years isn't long for your people? How do you pass so much time?"

The Shadow Queen next turns her gaze towards Danwyth. The king steps forward, falling to one knee. “Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Shadow Queen pauses, considering what to do. “Danwyth, why don’t you go to the graveyard and spy on the sluagh’s ritual?”

Danwyth gulps, eyes widening in visible fear. He takes two steps back from the throne before stuttering, “If that is your wish, Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Shadow Queen looks out over the crowd. “If any wish to join him and have not already received their geasa, they are welcome.”

Danwyth nods, walking to the door and waiting to see if anyone joins him. The High Queen then turns her attention to Nianki. The heavily muscled woman approaches slowly, falling to one knee. “Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Shadow Queen smiles. “Hello, dear. I thought we might test your strength. Your task for the night is to pull a cart loaded with people. Who here would like to be drawn along by a Grand Duchess?” She looks around, seeking volunteers, as Nianki too moves towards the door.

My, isn’t that one trouble, Nathi can’t help but think, as the geasas continue, and the Shadow Queen flaunts her power-for-a-night. I wonder who she is usually … hell, I wonder what she’s like in a fight. Now what in hell is a sluagh ritual, and why does the king look so unnerved by it? Il dio, I almost feel like I’ve fallen through the looking glass here. Nothing is what it seems, and what it seems to be, it isn’t … or some such nonsense.

“Please, mi’lord. No fuss. Simply ‘Nathicana’ is more than adequate, in any case. As for reminders, I’m not sure how that is going to work. I suppose we’ll see, no?” she says with a msmile

Glancing at Agwene’s plight, her brow furrows slightly. She gives Amaranth a slow once-over, her nose wrinkling in distaste ever so subtly. That one was trouble, and after the grace and capability shown by Agwene tonight and before, Nathicana found herself not liking at all the way the dear girl was being treated. She cast a sympathetic eye at Nianki, but made no move to assist or stop the proceedings. Such behaviour was not hers to judge, not really. A different land, different customs – and not her place to interfere … much.

The Shadow Queen turns towards Aiwyn next. The Princess steps forward and falls to one knee. “Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Shadow Queen leans forward, studying the woman carefully. “You are to accompany the ludicrously dressed servant girl. Even since her friend was silenced, I believe she’s been rather lonely. Just...walk around and talk to her.”

Aiwyn nods and rises, walking over to Nathicana. “Good evening, miss. I’m afraid I’ve been assigned to keep you company for the rest of the evening.”

The string of geasa continue. Alvin Rivera has to make every decision of the night by flipping a coin.

Draconis smiles,

"Anything is indeed possible, I am certainly proof of that. As for your question, I assume an elf such as myself does the same sort of things as any other Emperor might. You know, commanding underlings, enjoying the company of my beautiful wife, the occasional magic ritual, those sort of things. Then again, I can hardly speak for my species as a whole, but I hope that helps a bit."

As he dances, Draconis observes the rather unusual events. Wondering to himself what the sluaghs were doing, he gives up trying to guess, realizing that it would probably be revealed when the time was right.

The Shadow Queen next calls Vicotira over. The little girl bends on one knee. “Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Shadow Queen smiles good-naturedly. For the first time in the night, her smile seems genuinely present, even gently. “Well, my little darling, what shall we have you do tonight?”

Vicotira peeks up, smiling brightly. “Can I have a cookie, Your Imperial Majesty?”

The Shadow Queen nods. “I believe there are some on the refreshments table. However, you need a gease. Why don’t you go get your paints and hand paint the walls for us?”

Vicotira blinks. “I can really do that? I thought it was against the rules.”

The Shadow Queen nods. “Not tonight, sweetie “

Vicotira leaps up, running off to grab her paints.

Amaranth takes the full glass of wine and pats Agwene on the head. "You've returned. Again, I must admit I'm surprised. I wonder, do you enjoy being treated like a lowly servant or do you simply believe that it is the easiest way of herding me about?"

She sips her wine, listening as the Shadow Queen continues to hand out orders. As the Queen gets to Danwyth a very soft but extremely unlady-like phrase escapes from Amaranth. "A Samhain sluagh ritual. Now that would be something to see. Terrifying perhaps, but most certainly interesting," she says, sounding somewhat awed. Her hand passes by her blind fold and she scowls for just a second. "Pet, how would you feel about leading me to the graveyard? I wouldn't be able to see anything, but you would."

Amaranth, realizing the possible implications of what she has just said, softly clarifies, "You do realize this is a question and not an order, yes? I know nothing of your sensibilities, and while I might be willing to risk staring into the gates of hell just to satisfy a perverse curiousity, you have done nothing to deserve being forced to watch such a ritual."

Agwene shakes her head quietly at Amaranth's request. She looks up at the blindfolded woman, studying her intently before looking back to the ground. She glances whistfully after Vicotira before settling onto her knees, waiting for further orders.

Meanwhile, Danwyth and Nianki slip out of the ballroom. Danwyth heads through the halls and out the door leading from the small shrine in one part of the palace. The door opens onto a graveyard and he shuts it quietly behind him.

Nianki heads towards the fields. Looking around, she moves towards the nearest haycart, tensing slightly. She looks around for any potential passengers as she attempts to fasten herself in, fumbling for a few minutes but finally succeeding.

"Ah well, 'twas just an idea" Amaranth sighs. "So, pet, what would be more suited to your tastes? I know. Let's play a game. Look around and find something fun for us to do, and lead me there. If I am suitably amused we both win the game. But if I become overly bored, well, let's just say that I will figure out a way to make things more interesting."

Agwene stands tentatively, letting Amaranth feel her movement. "Mphg?" she mutters inquisitively. She watches Amaranth to see if she's allowed to stand to lead the way somewhere or not. Whatever the response, Agwene then heads after Nianki. She climbs into the back of the cart, guiding Amaranth after.

Nianki turns. "Thanks for joining me, ladies. Are you ready?"

“Please, mi’lord. No fuss. Simply ‘Nathicana’ is more than adequate, in any case. As for reminders, I’m not sure how that is going to work. I suppose we’ll see, no?” she says with a msmile

Glancing at Agwene’s plight, her brow furrows slightly. She gives Amaranth a slow once-over, her nose wrinkling in distaste ever so subtly...
Pedro nods. "We'll see. I hope it works."

He notices Nathicana's glance and follows it to the blind master and the mute slave. He looks back at Nathicana and says quietly, "You seem to feel the same way about that as I do."

--------

Draconis smiles,

"Anything is indeed possible, I am certainly proof of that. As for your question, I assume an elf such as myself does the same sort of things as any other Emperor might. You know, commanding underlings, enjoying the company of my beautiful wife, the occasional magic ritual, those sort of things. Then again, I can hardly speak for my species as a whole, but I hope that helps a bit."
Victoria replies, "Well, it helped some, but you can't honestly spend every day of four hundred years doing the same thing over and over. Do you write books or music? Maybe design buildings?"

Draconis laughed slightly, trying his best to cover up the annoyed tone in his voice.

"No Mrs. Marquez, I could hardly spend four hundred years doing the exact same thing, it would be horribly boring. You see, it would be very difficult to tell my entire life story right now, given its extreme length. To answer your question, I have written several books, though I doubt they are of the sort that you would find in the bookstores of your nation. As for designing buildings and writing music, not so much. However, I have not always been Emperor. Before I took power, I commanded a fleet of sky cruisers for the Imperial Navy, leading them through almost a century of war and chaos. Though I would prefer not to go into detail about the events of that particular period of my life, it is suffice to say that my life was not a boring one."

As Agwene moves to stand, Amaranth smiles bemusedly and says, "Ah, so you have decided upon something." She blindly follows the other woman, listening carefully to the sounds around her.

She feels the change in air as they step outside. By the time the two women near the fields, Amaranth's posture and expression take on a relaxed appearance that had been completely lacking since she received her geasa. She smiles, an open, honest smile and giggles "Escaping from formal functions is always good."

As she is guided into the haycart and hears Nianki's greeting Amaranth appears a bit puzzled but shrugs. "You are welcome, Lady, but any thanks belong to my companion. Before we begin, would you grant me a small favor, please? Could you tell me what the sky is like tonight?"

Nianki looks up, taking in the sky. "It is beautiful, filled with countless shining stars. The moon is full and bright, though clouds pass over it. The Gryffon and the Serpent face off across the void."

With that, Nianki lowers her eyes once more. "Ready, ladies." Even her mighty legs strain a little as she pulls at the heavy cart. Within a moment or so, it is rolling along, slowly but surely. The Grand Duchess grits her teeth, speeding up a little. "I wouldn't have worn a gown if I had been expecting to do this. I hope you ladies are enjoying it."

Agwene, for her part, kneels down in the cart, watching Amaranth and crawling forward slightly. "Mpphhmm..."

Pedro nods. "We'll see. I hope it works."

He notices Nathicana's glance and follows it to the blind master and the mute slave. He looks back at Nathicana and says quietly, "You seem to feel the same way about that as I do."

“It would seem I chose wisely when it came to my ‘master’ for the evening. He has been, so far, an enjoyable companion. The princess there …” she pauses, her eyes narrowing as she sees the pair depart. “She seems to have been saddled with a less than pleasant companion. Let us say, it is perhaps for the best that that … woman will not be remembered by myself in the morning. I imagine we each of us have our triggers, no? In this case, it is worth mentioning that there is a reason the word ‘vendetta’ is Italian.”

The dark-haired woman turns her full attention back to Pedro with a disarming smile. “Then again, if things are not to be remembered, there would I suppose, be no consequences for say … random lessons in manners tonight?”

Aiwyn nods and rises, walking over to Nathicana. “Good evening, miss. I’m afraid I’ve been assigned to keep you company for the rest of the evening.”

Nathi blinks, turning to Aiwyn in surprise, then nodding and smiling in turn. “My goodness, a master
and a companion for the evening. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone thought I needed looking out for.” The last few words delivered with a sly glance towards the Shadow Queen before returning to study Aiwyn. “It would be my honor, your Highness. I can only hope my poor company will not dim the experience for you.”

As the music stopped, and then transitioned into the next song, Nathi curtsied politely, smiling at them both. “Mi’lord, shall we then exchange partners? Perhaps with the addition of Aiwyn, the good Lord will be that much closer to fulfilling his task as well, while we return you to the loving arms of your good lady wife.”

"Yes, thank you," Amaranth says a bit wistfully, picturing the night sky. She senses movement and hears Agwene's muffled attempts a communication. Her head turns instinctively toward the sound, although she can see nothing. "If you were speaking to me," she whispers, "I'm afraid that I haven't a clue what you are trying to say."

Aiwyn smiles warmly to Nathicana. "I hardly doubt you are poor company. My sister finds you the most charming of ladies, I dare say."

She shrugs at Nathicana's suggestion to Pedro, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, that wouldn't be allowed. I am the woman my husband isn't allowed to dance with until he's finished with everyone else."

Agwene shrugs, settling down on the cart at Amaranth's feet. "Mpph..."

"Your sister is a very gracious woman, Nathi says with a little smile. "Nor does she know me very well, all things considered, or perhaps her opinion might ... differ slightly. Who knows? Then again between the three of us, I have to say Agwene did not deserve the task she was given in my never-to-be-humble opinion. The same statement of course stands - I do not know her as well either, though I am inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. Your Shadow Queen there, she has shown an interesting pattern to her choosings, if I may be so bold. Perhaps you could offer a native viewpoint or insight as to the assigning of these 'geasas'? Myself, I have had thoughts, but ... enlightenment is seldom a bad thing."

Aiwyn shrugs lightly. "I suppose she doesn't know you that well, all things considered. Then again, she is not clamoring to swear an Oath of eternal friendship. She is simply fond and first impressions suffice for that. Nathicana...in some ways, Agwene is older than you could imagine. In others, she's an adolescent. I suppose I shouldn't be saying this now, as you'll forget, but if you two do become friends, try to keep that in mind. Personally, I wasn't sure she was ready for the mission to the Dominion, though you say she gave a good accounting of herself. I was meaning to ask my husband if she could stay with us for awhile in Akaton, to get better aquainted with the modern world. However, I know she's been begging mother to let her go to the Dominion again."

Speaking of children, Vicotira begins painting on the wall with her hands. She makes hand turkeys and fields and cows and people. It's the kind of mess one would expect of a child.

Amaranth waits for a further reply, feeling Agwene settle down by her feet. Her brow wrinkles just a bit. "You puzzle me, little one. If I hadn't meant for you to relax and enjoy yourself I would have ordered you to find something fun for me to do, not for us to do. There is no need for you to be at my feet right now, unless that is truly what amuses you."

As the music came to a stop, Draconis turns his attention back to Victoria.

"Well, it seems as though this dance has come to an end. It was wonderful to meet you. I do hope I have given you an insight, if perhaps a temporary one, into the ways of my kind."

Looking back towards Pedro, Draconis continued,

"Your husband seems to have an idea of exchanging partners. Since I do still need to dance with Nathicana, and I'm sure you would be happy to be returned to your husband, it seems like a very good idea to me. Farewell, I hope you enjoy your evening."

Agwene can't exactly answer. Nianki chooses to say nothing, continuing to pull them.

Nathicana ponders this thoughtfully for a moment, and nods. "Not unlike the elves I am familiar with then?" she half asks, then continues more firmly. "I would think that such 'lessons' so to speak would be in Agwene's best interest, if she is not used to playing in the deeper waters, so to speak. The Dominion, while a pleasant place to swim, has its share of sharks and other predators. It can be a dangerous spot to toy with, politically, if one is not accustomed to some of the finer, shall we say, 'skills' of navigation. Should she wish to return, I am certain we could assist in her education, all things considered, depending on what capacity she would be returning in. It would of course be my pleasure to have her."

Aiwyn nods a little. "We could send her as ambassador or as a vacationer. Of course, if you were willing to allow a more personal visit, I'm sure she would appreciate it. Of course, I know you're a very busy woman. I wouldn't impose." Aiwyn pauses. "This is a horrible time to be having this conversation. Neither of us will remember it in the morning."

The Dread Lady laughs, and nods, her more serious demeanor melting away for now. "You're right. Rather silly of me I suppose, but then, I'm unused to not remembering things. In my line of 'work' memory is, after all, crucial. I suppose the 'how' of that goes right along with the unspeakables such as the geasa and all?" she asks curiously. "After all, if we're not to remember, there's hardly any harm in divulging a few secrets, no?"

Aiwyn nods a little, smiling. "Exactly. Though the loss of memory is also why I'm having this conversation so freely. I would be being much more subtle if you'd remember. Though, I suppose I could still stand to be blunter?"

Amaranth shrugs at Agwene's lack of response, but determinedly keeps a pleasant smile on her face. She leans back, pulling a few strands of hay loose, braiding them by touch. I wonder. She sits, slowly sliding herself toward Agwene, being careful not to move her feet. "I know you have the ability to shake and nod your head. Does your geasa allow you to form letters?" Amaranth asks, holding up one hand and tracing with the forefinger of her other hand tracing a few letters of the alphabet upon her palm in order to demonstrate her idea.

"Since subtlety, usually a skill I value highly, is of no use here, then yes - I would say the direct approach serves us well, should we choose to make use of it," she says, nodding. "Unless there are things that simply cannot be spoken due to whatever binding laws exist that we are unaware of ..."

Agwene brings a finger to Amaranth's hand, tracing out letters. "I L I K E I T H E R E I L I E D O W N O N H A Y R I D E S A N D Y O U H A V E N I C E F E E T."

Aiwyn nods. "Then I shall be blunt. I'm worried about my little sister. Her politics, her reading list, her music, her idols, her views on technology, possibly her sexuality...are all out of touch with what we're known in our past. I think she has a lot to contribute, but only if she sees what the world is, knows more than the novel idea of these things. I want to arrange for her to spend some time in the care of the human ruler of a technological nation to learn. There are a number of possibilities I'm considering, but you top the list for the simple reason that she's already aquainted with you and you seem to get along well with her."

Amaranth puzzles for a moment, then figuring out the message giggles. "Do I?" she says smiling. "I'm pleased you think so." She waves towards the blindfold, "I haven't really had the opportunity to notice yours. Perhaps I shall have to examine them later," she grins impishly "and maybe even use the opportunity to find if you are ticklish."

Agwene blushes furiously, not that Amaranth can see it. SHe takes the woman's hand, starting to trace, then she shrugs and decides better of it. She lowers herself again, lightly nudging Amaranth's foot before rolling over and lifting her own slightly, making them accessible in their fine, verdent slippers.

Nathi smiles wryly at Aiwyn. "Are you really so sure you want your sweet sister, aged or no, learning from me?" she asks quietly. "I suppose it would greatly depend on just what you wished her to learn, really. There are many far more qualified I would think, to serve as a better model and teacher after all. There are those who would call my methods ... questionable at times, since we are being frank here."

Her smile broadens somewhat, giving the impression of perhaps a cat who has caught sight of its prey and is pondering how best to toy with it. "Bluntness it shall be. Your Highness, the woman you are proposing to send your sister to learn from comes from very humble roots, and as far as she is aware, hasn't an ounce of royal blood in her veins. She was raised by the state, brainwashed and indoctrinated from a very young age, and learned quickly how to harbor a grudge as well as how best to use her wits, her skills, and her body to her best advantage. She has been ruthless, heartless, and cruel. She has taken what she wanted when she wanted how she wanted, and has not looked back. Her rise to power was a bloody coup, and since then, she has personally ordered the deaths of thousands for reasons ranging from rebellion to need, and has carred out the sentence on no few of such herself. She has been a murderer, a traitor, a liar, and an adulterer. And she has shown little remorse for any of it."

Arching a brow challengingly, Nathicana looks back to Aiwyn and tilts her head. "Now tell me. Am I still your first pick, my lady?"