NationStates Jolt Archive

The Grand Hall of Farinor was slowly filling up. Two silver thrones had replaced the one which once looked upon the room. A small altar to Dana stood at the head of the room, a cherrywood table with a small silver statue of the goddess. The silver lion of House Fiona was displayed prominently over the thrones. Hundreds of chairs lined both sides of the hall. The very back chairs were already filled with palace servants and local residents. The best seats near the front were largely reserved for expected forgeign guests. The very front row held Emperess Aiwyn, High Queen Agwene, Queen Nianki, Grand Duchess Victotira, Queen Eleanor, Queen Elizabeth, King Frederick, and King Gregory, all dressed in royal finery.

The hall was bedecked in silver and red streamers. Liveried servants in silver and red stood by the refreshments table in the back and escorted guests to their seats. At the front of the room, waiting at the end of the aisle, stood Queen Elayne herself, wearing perfectly forged silver dress armor, ruby studded. Four trolls lined either side of the Queen, wearing armor almost as resplendent as they watch the entrance. There was only about five or ten minutes until the ceremony was to begin.

((Edited significantly))

is this open?

((Yes))

A large aircraft, a black painted Airbuss A300, glided through the sky towards The Resurgant Dream. Imitora had little, if any, real connections with the nation, but one was always ready to open doors. On bored was the so called 'Supreme Ambasador' of Imitora, Robert Fortier. By Supreme Ambasador, what was really meant was former First Speaker who would cause to much trouble if he didnt have anythign to do, so this was something for him to do. He felt the aircraft decend for its landing, and smiled. Time to go to work, he thought to himself.

A number of trolls stand in the field where Fortier's ship is to land. That's really all it is, a field. Lacking a proper airport, Her Majesty's service had managed to clear a strip of pasture near the palace level enough and clear enough to safely land even a large airplane.

For those not familiar with the race, the trolls range in height from seven to ten feet. Their skin is blue in color and their high foreheads are marked with small horns. Despite their odd appearance, more of them are pleasing to the eye than not. None of them possess the supernaturally exquisite visage of the sidhe and few can even be called beautiful. Still, fewer are ugly or even plain. Their appearance is simply pleasant, no more, no less, with a kind of stoically dignified air.

These trolls, about ten in number, wear silver armor and red cloaks. The silver lion of House is engraved on their armor and embroidered onto the fine cloth of their cloaks, marking their loyalty.

The pilots, both former military, had a fun time trying to land the Airbuss on a grass field, but managed to pull it off. The door opened and the stairs dropped, and Fortier exited. He looked at the trolls, and shrugged. He had seen odder things. He descended the stairs, dressed smartly in his suit. The weight of the FN FiveseveN under his jacket was comforting. He was still testing out weapons, ever since the loss of his favored .45. He walked over to the trolls, not sure which one was the leader.

One of the trolls steps forward to greet him, a male. The man bows, his face expressionless. "I am Captain Harper of Her Majesty's guard. If you will come with me, I'll escort you to the wedding."

The trolls walk for about five minutes. They're available for conversation but they don't volunteer any. They lead him to a large palace, towering six stories high and spreading hundreds of yards in every direction. They lead him through the gardens and the past the hedges, every inch of the ground cultivated with great care.

At the door, the trolls pause and a human man in silver and red livery steps forward, bowing. "I'll escort you from here, sir." At no point is Fortier disarmed. However, as soon as one enters the palace proper, there seems to be an unexplained and hard to define shift in the air. The human ignores it, leading him to the gateway of the great hall and walking him to the section for foreign delegates. "Please take a seat here, sir." the human says, as he steps back out the door.

Fortier looked around. "Man, this place is nice." He followed his escorts, and found an empty seat in the middle of the room, and relazes, waiting for the ceremony to start.

OOC:
Given the fact that he is married to Aiwyn, it seems only proper to send Emperor Draconis.

IC:
Immediately outside the Grand Hall a series of events took place, which while still a rare sight, were becoming more and more common in the empire. First, a point of incredibly intense light appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Second, the point of light expanded rapidly, forming a vortex of crackling electrical energy. Lastly, the vortex, being in fact an etheric portal, stabilized. Only remaining for an instant, the portal vanished in the same manner as is appeared, leaving in its place the Emperor of Akaton.

Phaeton Draconis was an elf not particularly distinctive in appearance. Had it not been for the unusual nature of his arrival, he could have been mistaken for any guest of nobility. Though dressed in the typical formal attire of an Akatani royal, the black cloak and spotless gray military uniform was of little note here.

Taking a moment to make certain the portal had dropped him in the correct location, Draconis approached the troll nearest to the entrance of the hall.

"Greetings, I do hope the ceremony hasn't begun yet. If not, I hope you wouldn't mind directing me to the proper place to sit. The last time I was at a wedding here, it was as a participant rather than a spectator."

The troll smiles slightly and starts to direct him to a seat in the middle rows, not realizing who he's talking to. "Right this way, si..."

As the troll speaks, Aiwyn smiles, rising from her seat and waving her husband over. She pats the empty seat between herself and Agwene. The troll watches this, blinking. "Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty. I didn't recognize you." He falls to one knee.

As Draconis approaches, the Kings, Queens, and Grand Duchess sitting with the Emperess all rise and curtsey with polite deference. Aiwyn squeezes Draconis's hand lightly. "I'm sorry we didn't come in together. We probably should have but Elayne needed me for some things before the ceremony." The Emperess turns her eyes towards Queen Elayne. "This is making remember our wedding. I was expecting, well, I'm not sure. This is the first time I've been to a wedding...of this type."

The recent affair with the Sith suddenly increased the demand for starcraft and 'kaster systems. That meant that several million underemployed alchemists and magi'i suddenly found themselves very much in demand. High King Victoria, former protege of Alicia li'Wye and the first regent of the new Imperial First Distributed Kingdom of Weyr, thus found herself without handy alchemists to send as ambassadors. As a result, the person now piloting the dropship was an average, if somewhat thaumaturgically-inclined, Weyrean. he was also on vacation.....

I do hope they don't give me a runway,

Oh?

It's...have you ever tried landing on a piece of permacrete?

Nope,

Let's just say it ain't pleasant,

Alright. So land in that forest there,

The entire conversation took place in absolue silence, puncured by the low whistle of atmosphere against shields and the whine of the reDrive pulling the fabric of the multivere past the dropship in much the same way a windwaker would draw wind from the front of a watership to push forward that same ship's sails. Gibbs was fully capable of conversing via leyLink with his craft's Pseudo-Intelligence, which was doing all the piloting.

You...are an idiot, the Pseudo-Intelligence stated tersely.

I still love you.... J. W. Gibbs, Consul-General on vacation, chuckled. After twenty years of intergalactic policymaking, he needed a rest. So he dismissed the entire Diplomatic Service for a week.

I see a field, and I see a jet aerocraft from an underdeveloped nation. Time to land, the PI stated, in a slightly-annoyed tone. In a moment, the craft tilted, slightly, and became a comet shooting through the sky.

The trolls peer up at the comet, waiting quietly. Captain Harper clasped his hands behind his back as he looks up. "Be ready. Weyr are valuable allies and we have not yet managed to establish any blood ties with them."

A female troll steps up by Captain Harper. "Would you wish me to offer the officer a personal escort, sir?"

Harper shrugs. "Maybe. We didn't do it for the Imitorans but the Empire does have a pre-existing alliance with Weyr. Still, the Weyreans have no actual relations with Farinor, per se. Maybe Her Majesty intends to attempt to gain one."

The female nodded, not sure what the order was. "Of course, sir." All the trolls turned their eyes towards the comet, waiting for it to land.

((All this is very fluid time. Catherine won't be walking down the aisle until everyone's there.))

ooc: edited - sorry for not paying attention.

ic:

The Resquiden jet landed in the field and came to a surprisingly un-jerky halt. The stairway dropped and a stately woman in her early fifties stepped out, followed by a slouching young man in his mid-twenties.

The woman was none other than the Resquiden First Lady, Rosabella Merterre, and the man was her son Damien. He had dark floppy hair, which had today been slicked back by the official hairdresser, and he looked positively uncomfortable in the suit (the scowl, however, fit him like it was tailormade). His mother was bedecked in jewellery and lace, her hair standing almost on end and glowing slightly.

"Come along, boy - stand up straight! Honestly, you'll never get yourself a nice well-to-do wife at this rate. Stand up STRAIGHT I said. Oh, I don't know why i bother."

He mumbled something incoherently rebellious and followed her as she walked towards the welcoming party.

The craft dropped its shields and deccelerated for the last few moments of flight, because the direct light of the shielding would have blinded an onlooker at close range.

You're only three hundred, the PI commented.

Yes....still.... Gibbs groaned, extricating himself from the pilot's console.

The dropship landed, in a way. It hovered a meter above the field, slowly turning the grass beneath it a dead brown color. Its stubby wings extended, and a myriad of odd protrusions akin to a car's radiator fans flared from its hull. A hatch hissed open, and Gibbs dropped lightly to the ground from two meters up.

He looked like someone's grandfather. A thick, white beard contrasted with his dark suit and tie, which would not have been out of place at a meeting of the executive board of a Neo-Vectorian Corporation. With the nanite and thaumaturgic treatments available Gibbs was, despite appearances, as fit as a Marine of the Star Guard.

The Consul-General was not sure which person (troll) on the ground to address.......and hoped that one of them would step up before he would have to make a decision.

OOC: For a visual reference, I literally based him off of the real-life J. W. Gibbs. (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v485/Weyr/Gibbs_r.jpg)

The trolless steps forward, bowing to the man. "I'm Loise, sir. Would you require an escort to the wedding?"

The towering blue woman smiles down at him, the sun glistening off her silver armor. "I do suggest we hurry, sir. Her Majesty and Her Excellency should be exchanging their Oaths fairly soon."

Loise turns, starting to lead Gibbs towards the palace. Instead of handing him over to the humans, she walks into the palace with him. After gesturing the Weyrean to a seat, the large trolless sits next to him, her eyes focused on Queen Elayne.

The trolls bow to the Resquidians. One of them approaches the First Lady. "Ma'am, shall I show you and your son to the palace?" The troll smiles, leading the two to the Great Hall and walking them to their seats.

"Thank you, I'm Josiah Willard Gibbs," Gibbs bows. "That would be a shame. I don't believe these thing shappen all too often."

His bright eyes did not seem to miss a single detail, as Louise led him into the palace. Sure, it was smaller than the Tower of Kings, which rose two hundred floors into the sky, but it was impressive nonetheless.

"Was that a thaumaturgic field at the entrance?" he asked conversationally once they were seated. He had felt the shift between the ouside and the palace. Gibbs wasn't a certified thaumaturg, at least not for the past two centureis, but he could still sense some things.

Draconis easily spotted Aiwyn waving to him through the crowd. Smiling, he turned to the troll who had escorted him inside, waving him to his feet.

"No need for apologies, good sir. If I had been looking for recognition, I would have brought a herald. Thank you for your assistance."

As Draconis made his way to sit at Aiwyn's side, he felt a bit of embarrassment at the way the he was greeted. He thought to himself how ironic it was that until quite recently he would have been the one bowing to them. As he took his seat, he gave Aiwyn a little kiss on the cheek.

"Ah well, some delays can't be helped. I myself needed to see to some things regarding the upcoming Imperial Exposition. No matter though, we're both here now."

Loise shakes her head. "No, it was magic, but not thaumaturgy. It's a magic Art called Sovereign. It will make it exceedingly difficult for anyone to interrupt the procudures. However, as long as everyone's intent is what they claim, it is entirely non-invasive."

Loise quiets as Catherine enters, escorted by an older sidhe who must be her father. Countess Catherine wears a silver dress and veil of shimmering gossamer. Her hair is done in a fabulous updo and her pouty lips bear a gentle smile. "Hear Comes the Bride" plays as she's escorted down the aisle. Elayne just grins as she watches her bride to be approach.

When Catherine arrives, the older man steps back and the two women begin to glow softly, radiantly. Elayne speaks first. "I give a gift myself to thee. Take it freely; freely is it offered, and forever thou hast me in thy keeping. I swear love love unto you and pledge you my troth. May those who watch over love watch over this oath and those who keep it, and may we never find fault in their eyes."

Aiwyn murmurs under her breath. "After their oaths, we have to accept Catherine's oath of loyalty and name her a queen. Agwene can't do it yet because she hasn't been officially coronated. Just follow my lead."

Draconis replied in an equally quiet tone, deciding to leave any questions regarding Catherine's future domain for later.

"Of course, dearest."

Catherine gasps a little for joy, clutching Elayne's hands tightly. "I give a gift myself to thee. Take it freely; freely is it offered, and forever thou hast me in thy keeping. I swear love love unto you and pledge you my troth. May those who watch over love watch over this oath and those who keep it, and may we never find fault in their eyes."

The glow seems to brighten for a moment, surrounding the women. When it fades, both women turn their eyes towards what seems to be empty air, smiling softly. Elayne takes Catherine in her arms, giving her a long, soft kiss. The newlyweds then turn towards Aiwyn and Draconis, Elayne gesturing Catherine forward.

Aiwyn rises, gesturing for Draconis to join her. She escorts her husband out into the aisle, smiling. ECatherine falls to one knee, addressing Aiwyn first. "I swear fealty unto you, lady. Your command is my desire, and your request is my desire. May my service always please, and may my sight grow dark if it does not. As the tides to the moon, my will to yours, my liege."

The Resquiden First Lady alternated between beaming at the surrounding dignitaries and glaring at her son in a misplaced attempt to make him stop slouching and smile.

He had a rebellious look on his face, but only out of habit - it was his version of glazed over eyes. His mother would keep on dragging him to various royal occaisions in other countries - for heavens sake, Resquide wasn't even a monarchy! But no, you never know who you might meet at one of these occasions, and a noble wife would be a good catch, don't you think dear? Whose wedding was this anyhow? Couple of noble ladies he didn't give a damn about. Queen, something or other, name started with A, was there, and he'd been introduced to dozens of simpering young ladies who probably had no more brains than butterflies. Goddamn, I'd rather be born a fisherman than this!

Aiwyn smiles a little, extending an open hand. "I take you as my vassal. You are of my house, even as the very stones. I pledge to hold you, to guard you, and to keep you. I pledge to honor your service as it deserves, and to reward loyalty in kind. As the moon to the seas below, my will to yours. I pledge the Escheat to you." A brilliant white line shines around Aiwyn's hand. When the light disperses, a gold coin seems to have formed from nothing. Catherine reaches up, taking the coin in her hand without raising her eyes.

Catherine then shifts her position towards Draconis. Her eyes lowered, Catherine speaks. "I swear fealty unto you, lord. Your command is my desire, and your request my desire. May my service always please, and may my sight grow dark if it does not. As the tides to the moon, my will to yours, my liege."

Catherine remains kneeled, literally shining as sidhe do. Most of the nobles in the crowd are of the same kith, quietly radiating beauty and nobility beyond what would be humanly possible. Some others are nine to ten foot tall trolls and there's even a few satyrs. Humans, outside the foreign visitors, are fairly rare at the proceeding, though there are a few. Among them, there are certainly simpering young ladies willing to chat who would have been willing to chat with Damien.

Gibbs watched the proceedings with quite a bit of curiosity. Trideo and netImmersion was good for getting the gist of a nation's culture, but it could not replace the full-body experience of being there.

Draconis looked down at Catherine kneeling before him, doing his best to approximate Aiwyn's statement. Holding out an open hand he began.

"I also take you as my vassal. I pledge to honor your service as it deserves, and to reward loyalty in kind. As the moon to the seas below, my will to yours."

Unfortunately, what sounded so graceful and perfect coming from Aiwyn didn't flow so well from him. Given the fact that half of it referred to the houses of sidhe nobility, Draconis replaced those lines with a distinctly Akatani flair.

"As it is here, it is in the Imperium as well. Through darkness and light, heaven and hell, the Imperium swears its allegiance to you as you have sworn to it. So shalt it be until the very extinction of existence."

At this, Draconis whispered a few words in elvish, a dark flame etching itself into the air a few inches above his outstretched hand. It coalesced into a ring of sorts, a hellishly warped blend of crystal and purest silver. A careful observer might note it bore a remarkable similarity to a ring the Emperor wore on his right hand. Draconis offered Catherine the ring, clearly some sort of Akatani badge of office.

Catherine reaches up and takes the ring from Draconis's hand. She remains kneeling for fifteen more minutes. All the fae in the room are respectfully and totally silent during this time.

Aiwyn finally smiles down at the kneeling queen. "You may rise, Queen Catherine, and hence forth rule as our undisputed queen of Farinor at your wife's side."

Catherine rises, walking back to Elayne and taking her hand. The two walk down the aisle as music plays once more. Aiwyn offers Draconis her own hand. "We're next." She starts to walk after the royal couple.

The rest of the royal family follows in procession, along with the kings and queens of the other kingdoms of the empire. Everyone else in the room remains seated, waiting for the foreign dignitaries to proceed them.

Draconis smiles, taking Aiwyn's hand in his own and falling in behind Elayne and Catherine.

Gibbs followed behind the royals of the Empire. He knew them all from archives, to an extent. It was a nice ceremony, in his opinion -- brief, respectful, and to the point.

ooc: Is that it? Only unless someone's going to interact with my characters I'm sending them off to the next royal ball type thing i find. (il post ic later)

((No, that's not it. We're going TO the ball now. Nothing remotely ball-like has happened yet. This part was strictly a religious ceremony. I'm waiting for you to post ic to continue.))

ooc: woops! Don't know what happened to my thoguht-processes there :P

ic: Damien Merterre yawned and looked at his watch. When would this interminable bore be over already? His mother was yacking on about something at his side, but he had tuned her out as usual. Oh, god, he was going to have to sit through this all NIGHT. His fist clenched involuntarily before he was distracted by an announcement...

((His mother was talking during the vows? Make sure you read the whole thread.))

The rest of the attendees continue to wait patiently for the Resquideans to follow the newly weds out of the room, not allowed to proceed themselves until all the foreign delegates do.

Draconis glares back at the Resquidens, thinking to himself.
'Humans have no manners at all.'

ooc: no, she was talking under her breath after the vows as everyone started to leave... or at leat that's what *I* thought... o_O And there is no a in Resquidean, it's written Resquiden or Resquidene, by the way.

ic:

"Mother," he muttered quietly, "We're supposed to be leaving. Come on!"

Rosabelle sniffed and followed him out, temproarily ceasing the deluge of complaining.

OOC: Check your telegrams.

The reception room is dominated by the large dance floor in the center. Tables ring the area. A fine meal is already set, thought waiters move from table to table to take special orders. Catherine and Elayne sit with Aiwyn and Draconis at the head table. The walls are lined with red and silver streamers. Musicians begin to slowly play as everyone enters the room.

ooc: damn, I keep forgetting about those things. Sorry!

ic: Rosabelle looked positively ecstatic as she entered the room and saw the crowds of eligible young women to introduce her son to. Damien, in contrast, slunk in and tried to look as undesirable as possible, while mentally listing all the monasteries he could think of that didn't require a special diet, or any kind of vows. Maybe a hermitage...

There's quite a few young women, even human women. There's a light skinned blond in a red gown. There's an Asian woman in a green dress, a slightly overweight, short, redhead in a blue dress, a tall brunette with a low cut yellow dress, among others. There are also the usual variety of non-human delegates and the people mentioned earlier.

((Feel free to post introducing him to specific girls.))

Rosabelle passed a critical eye over the girls as Damien desperately examined the curtains. Hmmm, she thought, best leave the Asian one for a last resort... now, who would catchy Damy's interest? Not that short fat one, and the broad in the yellow dress looks entirely too slutty to be suitable. Yes, the blonde. She'll do.

Grabbing her son by the arm, she dragged him over to the blonde girl, fixing her most motherly smile in place. "Hello, dear... Rosabelle merterre, my husband is the Resquiden Prime Minister... have you met my son, Damien?"

The blond shakes her head. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I haven't had the honor yet." She extends a hand to Damien, palm down. "Good evening. I'm Lois. So what do you think of all of this? It is quite the stir throughout the empire."

((OOC: Reply to your TG?))

The blond shakes her head. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I haven't had the honor yet." She extends a hand to Damien, palm down. "Good evening. I'm Lois. So what do you think of all of this? It is quite the stir throughout the empire."

((OOC: Reply to your TG?))

Damien stared at her hand mutely for a few seconds before his mother elbowed him. He rolled his eyes at her furious stare and kissed Lois's hand. "How do you do," He drawled in a caricature of politeness. Rosabelle gave him a Look and moved on to speak to some dignitary or other. "Quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. Some bint decides to marry some other bint, that's their business, not mine. I'm just here 'cos the harpy wants me to follow in their footsteps."

Lois jerks her hand back, staring at him blankly. Without even deigning to respond, she turns on her heel and walks off, Prime Minister's son or not. Within moments, she's dancing with another young man, laughing merrily.

Damien smirked, and stalked over to the side of the hall to lurk in the shadows. Rosabelle, looking around, frowned at her sons absence, but then sighed and gave up - he'd turn up eventually. She really didn't know what to do with that boy...

The Asian woman makes her way over to the sulking young man. "You don't seem to be enjoying yourself?"

Damien raised an eyebrow at her. "You are? Well, I suppose you don't have the patron saint of matchmaking looking over your shoulder... or was it her that sent you over here?" He asked suspiciously.

The woman arches a brow lightly. "Not over my shoulder. She just made sure I came."

Two men approached the gate to the location of the wedding. An older elven man presented himself to the gate guard. He was dressed in a sharply appointed uniform with a chestful of medals that would seem to weigh him down if he weren't still in fine condition. He removed his glove and took a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. He presented it to the guard. "General Ian St. James, retired, representing both kingdoms of Highport, and my liege King Turquine Buccannah and Dragonsreach under Queen Lauralin Silverlief, daughter to the king." He then placed his glove back on, a bright white in comparison to the sharp black generals uniform with five claws, the tips flat to represent his retired status, on the shoulder. He then reached down to tie the peace tie on his slim elven blade, to denote his peaceful intentions. The general sounded as though he was in a foul mood as he made his announcement and stared at the other man furiously. The other man said nothing but stood beside the general, standing a full foot and half taller than the noble looking elf. He wore a long black cloak with the hood up, hiding his face and seemed to carry no weapons at all and black loose fitting pants.

The troll looks down at the man, arching a brow a little at the tone before he steps out of the man's way. "Of course. You may enter."

"Might you tell me where the wedding is to take place?" the general asked, lightening his tone as best he could.

The troll frowns a little. "The ceremony is over, sir. The reception is taking place in the ballroom as we speak."

"Great", the general replied and glared at the man beside him again before turned and striding off.

"Where are you going?", the cloaked man asked in a thick, unfamiliar accent.

"Maybe your people don't hear to well", the general replied after stopping and turning around, "but the wedding is OVER."

"Actually we hear quite well. The gentleman said that the reception is in progress."

"So you expect me", the general said as he stepped closer to the man, "to look like an ASS by waltzing into the reception after MISSING the wedding after I'm made to be late without explanation?"

"You need no help from me in the looking like an ass department but I would suggest walking into the reception and then waltzing, but that is certainly up to you. You do, however, have an obligation to represent Highport and Dragonsreach, even if you are late."

The general took a step closer to the man as though ready to attack him but stopped. He just glared up at the man for a minute before turning on heel and entering the gate heading toward the ballroom. The man followed silently .... very silently .... in fact his footsteps seemed to make no sound at all.

The two entered the ballroom where the general looked around for the best place to make himself scarce while the man with him seemed to scan the room quietly.

Damien sighed resignedly. "I might have known. It looked like she was giving up too easily. She wants nothing less than to be able to show off at MY big, fancy wedding instead of someone elses, and my opinions don't come into it at all. I swear, if I ever fall in love I'm going to elope."

The woman arches a brow lightly at Damien. "I wasn't talking about your mother, dear. From the way she looked at me when she was surveying the room, I think I'm last on her list of ladies to try and introduce you to."

The tall cloaked man leaned down and whispered to the general who just turned and looked at him. After a moment he started pointing out various people in the room, obviously explaining who they are.

The woman arches a brow lightly at Damien. "I wasn't talking about your mother, dear. From the way she looked at me when she was surveying the room, I think I'm last on her list of ladies to try and introduce you to."

Damien frowned. "Er... then who *did* make sure you came?"


ooc: that's 2 brow arches in a row :P

The woman smirks a little. "My mother, of course. Did you think yours was the only one always striving to play match-maker?"

The two men scanned the room, looking for the wedding couple.

The woman smirks a little. "My mother, of course. Did you think yours was the only one always striving to play match-maker?"

The corner of Damien's mouth twitched. "Your mother... is trying to..." Suddenly he burst out laughing. "Oh man," he wheezed, "The idea that someone's mother would consider me a catch... just like Mother keeps telling me... oh man."

He shook his head in amusement. "What's your name, anyway?"

The woman shakes her head a little. "She didn't send me after you in particular. She sent me to make a match. I'm not that thrilled at it. I wish she'd just let me be. I'm Liu Chan."

"Ah, the world makes sense again," Damien said with a wry grin. "Damien Merterre, how do you do. Mothers, eh?"

Liu smiles lightly. "Mothers." She shakes her head. "Still, no harm in making the best of a bad situation. Why do you think your mother seemed so much more interested in Lois than in myself, anyway?"

Catherine and Elayne are dancing in the center of the dance floor, at this point. They smile and laugh as other couples dance near them. They smiles a little as they see the two men from Dragonsreach enter.

"Ah", St. James says, spotting the two women, "there they are." He points them out and the tall cloaked man looks in thier direction. "Now what?" The general asks him, "go over and make a fool of ourselves by announcing that we missed the wedding?"

"Better than making a bigger fool of ourselves and walking out after they spot us", he says nodding in thier dircetion and then walking over toward them. The general stands for a moment, fuming, then procedes to follow the cloaked figure who gracefully moves among the dancers easily avoiding them. The general moves slowly with a series of "excuse me's" and pardon me's" but follows the figure to the dancing ladies.

Damien shrugged. "Who knows what goes on in her mind. But as far as I know she's doing this so she can show off her normal, married son to her annoying friends, and a white girl would be more normal or something - I haven't exactly fulfilled that requirement to date."

Liu frowns slightly, looking off. "Well, I suppose mothers will be mothers. Still, we might as well make the best of an unpleasant situation. It is not very often one gets to gaze upon the beauty of the sidhe. I suppose this is your first time, isn't it?"

Elayne and Catherine smile lightly, ending their dance and moving towards the two representatives of Dragonsreach. Elayne smiles. "We are glad you could make it. You travelled all the way from Tarana for the celebration?"

The general bowed respectfully to both ladies, "I would not have missed it were it not for pending issues. I wished at least to see you both here, however. May I introduce Marcus ....". It suddenly dawned on St. James that he didn't know the man's last name, and damned little else for that matter. He looked a bit embarrissingly at the man he called Marcus.

The tall hooded man lowered the cowl revealing a face that wasn't quite human, but more with an elvish handsomeness to it, though not elvin either. "Count Marcus Cole", he said with a thick odd accent, "of the royal house of Deryn. I serve the Princess Ariel Mendrillon, who in turn serves the King Buccannah of Highport. It's our way that even the royal line should serve another as a reminder of how we would wish to be treated and therefore how we should treat our subjects." He bowed also to each, taking a hand in turn and kissing it lightly, "it is an honor to meet you, and a pleasure of course."

For the first time since arriving St. James didn't have his attention drawn off by the sidhe in the room. He just stared at the Count in shock, never have known the man's status. What he knew Marcus to be was a far cry from royalty.

Marcus, for his part, seemed unaffected by the Sidhe in the room as he continued. "The good general, here, is not to blame for his tardiness. I fear that situations in Dragonsreach has kept the Queen from attending herself as she had planned, and, she sends her apologies. Because of her desire to be here for the event she put off sending me until to late when she realized she wouldn't be able to make it. She did, however, wish us represented, and so we are here. I beg your forgiveness for our seeming lassitude in this manner, but the situation at home is grave."

"Grave", the General said, "and I wasn't informed? What is going on."

Marcus flashed a smile at the women that touched his eyes, but his voice dripped with malice, "Now is not the time for such discussions. Not on such a grand day." His eyes never left the women, but his threat to St. James was clear enough.

Liu frowns slightly, looking off. "Well, I suppose mothers will be mothers. Still, we might as well make the best of an unpleasant situation. It is not very often one gets to gaze upon the beauty of the sidhe. I suppose this is your first time, isn't it?"


Damien looked puzzled. "Eh... the what? Sorry, I haven't exactly done my research..."

Liu frowns, eyeing him. "The ones who are beautiful beyond the telling. Don't tell me you haven't noticed." She takes a moment to look about the room, eyes widening. Even after living her whole life here, she still can't help but be utterly awestruck at the sight.

Elayne nods. "We're glad you came, Ambassador."

They both nod to the count. Catherine smiles. "It is a pleasure to meet you Count."

Elayne nods. "Quite."

Catherine pauses a moment. "We do hope that you are able to overcome your difficulties. You have our full support, of course. We are sorry Her Majesty was unable to attend."

St. James turns back toward the two and smiles, "Thank you, I'm glad I was able to make it, I'm just sorry I missed the ceremony itself." He bows politely, "I'm also glad to see that you recovered well from your attack."

Marcus frowns at the comment but says nothing about it. "Well it's my experiance that the Queen is nothing if not resilient. She has a cunning intellect. I'm sure she'll overcome it. She also has the benefit of fine people backing her, always a benefit in any situation. As I understand it she has the assistance of the President of Gawdly himself, as well as her father, the King of Highport. She, of course, has the Lady Ariel's as well as my own full support as well." His smile was becoming as he bowed again, "And now, with your permission of course, I thought I might mingle. I rarely see such events as this as my normal work carries me far from the more civilized virtues."

Catherine blushes a little, looking off. Elayne puts a hand to her wife's arm, rubbing it gently and frowning ever so slightly at St. James. After a moment, she smiles softly. "We cannot think you enough for that. You saved the most precious thing in our life." She squeezes Catherine's hand, watching the ambassador. "You have a boon from our court, whenever you wish to claim it."

Catherine smiles a little at the count. "We are quite sure she shall. Of course, you are free to mingle. However, it would be a shame for you to leave without dancing with the bride..." she smirks faintly "...either one."

Liu frowns, eyeing him. "The ones who are beautiful beyond the telling. Don't tell me you haven't noticed." She takes a moment to look about the room, eyes widening. Even after living her whole life here, she still can't help but be utterly awestruck at the sight.


Damien actually looked around for the first time, eyes resting on several as he actually realised what Liu was talking about. "Ah, I see. Yeah, you're right. What's with that? Is it a supernatural thing, or just 'noble breeding'?"

Liu looks a little confused. "I don't understand the difference. All nobles are naturally beautiful by means of their magical nature. Of course, commoner fairies are magical too but in different ways, except for ghille dhu, who are almost as beautiful as sidhe." She smiles lightly, looking at him expectantly.

The General notes the odd looks, "I didn't mean to offend, I was only glad ...." he stopped then, not wanting to make the same mistake twice. "Well, I'll take my leave", he said as he glanced at Marcus, "it seems there are some things I must address." He bowed to each in turn and then crisply turned on heel, military style and headed for the door.

Marcus stuttered and seemed unsure of his words for the first time that evening and his words belied the easy grace with which he entered and crossed the room. "I .. I fear that I'm no dancer, dear Lady, though the invitation is .. is .. that is to say that I appreciate the offer. I mean, not offer but .. invitation. I wouldn't want bruise your feet on your wedding night, it would be unseemly." The last was said with brevity that was obviously intended to hide his own embarrassment.

Liu looks a little confused. "I don't understand the difference. All nobles are naturally beautiful by means of their magical nature. Of course, commoner fairies are magical too but in different ways, except for ghille dhu, who are almost as beautiful as sidhe." She smiles lightly, looking at him expectantly.

Damien goggled at her, his face resembling that of an anime smilee commonly found on internet forums. "uh... the who, what, and eh?" He rolled his eyes. "Look, I TOLD you I didn't do my homeqwork here. Can you please explain as though to someone who has no clue what you're talking about? Cos that's pretty damn accurate. We don't really have fairies back home."

Elayne arches a brow faintly. "Offend? Hardly."

Catherine just smiles lightly at the Count. "We insist."

Liu just looks increasingly confused. "I told you I didn't understand the question" she says with a hint of frustration.

Marcus looks at Catherine a moment and swallows, "As you wish, I'm at your disposal of course." He looks over at Elayne, "If I may cut in for this dance? Or should yours be the first?"

Elayne smiles a little. "Let Catherine have it."

True to his word Marcus knowledge of dance is at worst inept, at best poor. His body has a taut, tigrish strength and litheness to it that gives him lightning fast reflexes to avoid the worst of incidents and dangerous litheness like a striking cobra, but the dance is poor at best and his flushing face reveals his embarrassment. "I'm sorry, my Lady, but there are those at the court of Deryn far more capable than myself in the matters of dancing and court etiquite."

Liu just looks increasingly confused. "I told you I didn't understand the question" she says with a hint of frustration.

Damien rolled his eyes again in exasperation. "Alright, alright, your country has nobles who are pretty and magical. Drop the topic, it's pissing me off." Then he muttered under his breath "bloody women."

ooc: sorry... but, that was a pretty obvious typo you know...

Catherine dances with inborn grace, smiling gently to Count Marcus. If she notices his clumsiness, it doesn't show. "Oh, no, Count, no. We are quite pleased to be dancing with you."

Liu looks further puzzled. "Fine. Should I just leave you to mope then?" She frowns irritably.

Marcus flashes a smile, "Both gracious and beatiful, a rare combination. Have no fear, I'm neither arrogant nor ignorant enough to believe that I can compare to you in grace and elegance, but I thank you for your compliment."

Catherine just laughs lightly. "Is this your first visit to the Empire?"

"To my knowledge, yes", Marcus replies thoughtfully, "in my line of work I don't get to see the official visitors' areas or the vacation spots, typically. I must say that the women are .... well", he blushes slightly, "enchanting, to say the least."

Catherine blushes lightly. "Why thank you, Count. You're quite sweet, you know?"

He blushed again, "There are those who would argue with you, but I prefer the assessment of a lovely Lady, such as yourself." He hesitates, seeming embarrassed but goes on, "Tell me, if you would, are the women magically augmented for umm .... " he tries to find a diplomatic way of stating his question but fails and goes on anyway, "... well, distraction or attraction?"

Catherine arches a brow. "We're not sure what you mean by augmented. Most of the ladies of our court are given the best training in charm, grace, and etiquette available and come from the best families. However, we hardly just go casting spells upon them to make them more appealing to potential suitors."

Damien shrugged. "Your choice. I never said I was sociable. If you can conduct an intelligent conversation without fluttering your eyelashes and saying 'I don't understand", please do so."

Liu shakes her head. "I was until you felt the need to start hurling needless insults and making rather moronic and unintelligent cultural assumptions. You are hardly creating a good impression of Resquide here, nor is your mother."

With that, Liu turns on her heels, walking to the other side of the room. She heads for another young man attending the ball. In a moment or two, she's chatting pleasantly with him.

Damien shrugged again. Whatever. Stupid wench. He scanned the room - this was going to be a long evening if he didn't find someone interesting to talk to. Maybe he'd have better luck with a guy... or even just some people having a fight, at least it'd be interesting to watch...

Marcus sighed, "I knew that would come out wrong. You see, we Deryn, are born psionics. We're taught mental discipline from birth, because of our mental talents. A beautiful woman, though still pleasing to the eye, is not distracting to us, unless we choose to be distracted. But Sidhe women ..." again he sought the right words, "... well ... they rather catch ones attention. Even to one as disciplined as I am."

Elayne walks over towards Rosabella, smiling politely. "Madame First Lady, thank you for coming. Catherine and I are both delighted to have such distinguished visitors, of course."

Elayne offers a hand, palm down.

Countess Emma ni Fiona trots past Damien, her hooves clicking methodically against the smooth floors. Overhearing the human, she comments snidely "Stupid misogynist." The satyress continues past, not bothering to stop.

Catherine pauses, thinking. "Satyrs can directly incite the passions as such. Sidhe cannot. However, the natural aura of nobility is magical in nature and not subject to specific cultural or personal standards of beauty. Still...we had not been aware of an effect on psionics." She laughs liltingly. "Then again, psionics are a subject practically unknown to us. Perhaps you can enlighten us, Your Excellency."

"Well I can't do as well as Princess Ariel as regards explanation, but I'll try. Psionicists use mental power over physical or mental subjects. The power of the mind, when harnessed and then unleashed in a disciplined way can be quite powerful. It's not magical in nature, just an understanding of the way the mind works in conjunction with the minds of others and the physical realm. We of Deryn are born with the talent, it's a rarety outside of the homeland, except for a few other places where psi talent is a norm. The ... aura ... as you call it, touches the mind and is a bit more difficult to overwhelm. But, as I said, Lady Ariel's talents are far beyond my own, and mine are more focused in specific areas, whereas she has many areas of expertise and far more discipline."

Catherine nods a little. "We suppose that makes a great deal of sense. We do not know of this Lady Ariel, however. She sounds like a woman of considerable talents. Do tell us more."

"Well, as I understand it, she was at a ball in Resurgent Dream not so long ago. Her stay, however, was brief, due to the situations in Dragonsreach. She ..." he thought a moment then continued, "Well, you see, Deryn, when we are born are born with our talents ... turned off ... so to speak. When we reach maturity our talents become active and we have the benefit of prior training, but it doesn't require a great deal. We have time to understand what is happening, or going to happen, and we have time to prepare. Lady Ariel was one of the few who were born with her talents already active. She was one of fewer to have lived to maturity and one of the fewer, still, to have done so with her sanity intact. Imagine being a baby or infant or even child with everyones thoughts pressing in on you, and no clear idea of what thoughts are yours or someone elses. Her training had to be intense because her talents are extremely strong, as are always those whose talents are on when they are born. Also because, those like me, can bank thier talents. Supprose them easily. She can't. She has to focus, concentrate all the time. Believe me when I say that I wouldn't want to trade with her. I would rather my weaker talents than to have a constant background hum of other minds in my own."

Catherine nods a little. "Then she is a strong woman in more ways than one. What ball was it that she attended? We do not believe we were there."

"I don't know, to be honest", he said a bit embarrissingly, "I was ... away ... at the time. I only just returned when she asked me to come here. I'm afraid I've had no briefing at all. Could you tell me some about yourself, and your kingdom?"

Catherine nods. "Farinor is a kingdom of some eighty millions. We have the most diverse population of any kingdom in the empire. We are known for being a more liberal kingdom. As for ourself, well, we have been dearly in love with our new bride for a good five years now but...Queen Elayne didn't believe this was possible until recently."

"I'm not sure I understand. What would not be possible?" Marcus looked at the Lady Catherine in confusion.

"Our marriage."

Rosabelle smiled at elayne and kissed her hand. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine," she gushed, "Or I should say ours, only I can't think where my son's got to..."


Damien sighed as the satyr walked by. Maybe he was being a bit too obviously aggressive. Oh well, if mother insisted on dragging him through rooms full of disgustingly bright nobles, it was to be expected.

Elayne smirks ever so lightly. "We are married, madame." Elayne pauses, looking around the room until her eye alights briefly on Damien. She considers a moment before deciding to simply say nothing...for now.

Emma starts to speak with a few other of the noblewomen. They speak quietly, casting occasional dark glances from Rosabella to Damien and back again. After a long moment, Emma breaks away from the group and approaches Aiwyn and Draconis, curtseying. "Your Imperial Majesties, might I have a moment of your time?"

Vote against the current Un proposal. Be a man of valor not one of bumappreciation. ANTES MUERTO QUE MUDADO

Vote against the current Un proposal. Be a man of valor not one of bumappreciation. ANTES MUERTO QUE MUDADO

Tis a sad, sad day when political advertising interrupts a royal ball.

Rosabelle looked puzzled, however was soon distracted by the apparant dirty looks she was recieving when she checked to see what Elayne was looking at. "Um... " She started to say, trying and failing to think of a polite way to ask what the hell was going on.

Meanwhile, Damien had given up entirely on finding anyone interesting to talk to who did't expect him to be Mr Manners, and was beginning to look for a way out.

Elayne faintly quirks a brow at Rosabelle, not quite having meant to render the woman speechless.

Marcus still looked a bit confused at first before his brow cleared with understanding. "Ahhh, I see", he nodded, "your houses were giving you difficulties about marrying." He nodded, "I can understand that. Houses often have thier infighting."

"Because we're both women."

Elayne faintly quirks a brow at Rosabelle, not quite having meant to render the woman speechless.

Rosabelle frowned and turned back to Elayne. "I hate to ask... but those looks I'm getting don't look nice."

He again hesitated with a confused look before his brow cleared again, "Yes, yes, I've heard of such trite conditions. In Deryn one's mind is open to all. What one knows all know except for the most intimate secrets. So loving one of the same gender is easily known and has been accepted for ... " he stopped a moment thinking, "well ... for longer than I've been alive or my father, or his father I think. Actually the Queen of Dragonsreach is married to a woman, though I remember her father didn't enjoy the idea particualary. It was only his love for her that kept him silent."

Catherine nods. "It is sad but true."

Elayne frowns a little. "We had not wanted to bring this up but...your son is disrupting the reception."

"Well my Lady, rest assured that I give you my most heartfelt congratulations, and I wish you the best in your marriage. I believe your bride to be a very lucky woman to have such as you at her side. Speaking of which", he said looking around, "I believe that I've dominated your time, I should ask your wife for the next dance and then let you two continue with your reception without need of hearing me ramble on." He smiled a warm, friendly smile, "Even though your company shall be missed."

Elayne frowns a little. "We had not wanted to bring this up but...your son is disrupting the reception."

Rosabelle's shoulders slumped. "Oh. I - I'm terribly sorry - I did try to impress upon him the need to be polite," she sniffed, "But i'm afraid he's... not very sociable. Doesn't enjoy formal occasions." She frowned a little. "It's... not like him to actually draw attention to himself though. For that matter, I haven't noticed anything... so whatever he's done this time, it can't be very major. He's probably just being rude to someone. A small blessing - er, not that it's a blessing atall, really," she added hurriedly, "But, er, when you consider alternatives..."

Catherine smiles a little, breaking away from the Count. "And yours."

Elayne puts a hand lightly on Rosabelle's shoulder. "There, there, it'll be alright."

Marcus bows deeply, taking Catherines hand and kissing it gently as he rises. "It was truly a pleasure."

Catherine arches a brow faintly at the kiss. "Do enjoy yourself."

Marcus notes the raised eyebrow, noting the mistake for future reference and approaches Elayne.

OOC: Sorry for my absence, I thought this thread had died.

IC:
Emperor Draconis had been lingering on the fringe of the reception, neither hiding nor drawing attention to himself. His thoughts were elsewhere, on the past, on the future, on anything but where he was. However, as Countess Emma approaches, he turns his attention back to the present.

"Of course you may have a moment of my time, there is nothing else to occupy it."

Elayne smiles a little to the Count. "Hello, Your Excellency. Have you met the First Lady of Resquide?"

Emma nods. "How do you feel about the behavior of the Resuideans, thus far?"

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure", Marcus says in his thickly accented voice, bowing politely, "It's an honor to make your aquentance."

Draconis frowns slightly.

"Well, the Resquideans have seemed a bit rude, uncultured even. Still, they are but humans, what can you expect?"

Emma shakes her head. "Humans should know their place and that boy, in particular, should know how to talk to other people. It's an insult to Their Majesties to have him here, casting an unpleasant cloud on a happy occasion."

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure", Marcus says in his thickly accented voice, bowing politely, "It's an honor to make your aquentance."

Rosabelle curtsies, smiling at the count. "Likewise, sir. Ah, I cannot quite place your accent..." She enquired.

"I'm of Deryn, Dear Lady. We keep our nation isolated but do we do train and send out advisors and ambassadors, thus the reason you probably have not run into any of us. And yourself, You are of..?"

"I'm of Deryn, Dear Lady. We keep our nation isolated but do we do train and send out advisors and ambassadors, thus the reason you probably have not run into any of us. And yourself, You are of..?"
"Oh, I'm the Resquidene First Lady. My husband Walter is on his second term as Prime Minister. We have a dedicated but small diplomatic force, and thus not many embassies, so to keep up relations I attend various social functions," she sighed, "with my son, who rather objects to the practice."

Marcus smiled, remembering his own rather errant childhood. "The responsibilities to come are often found tedious by youth. I remember my own youthful days. Let's say I wasn't popular with the elders myself and leave it at that." He grinned, "Yet, in my age as it is, I can understand your dilemma. The secret is to find his interests, have him attend functions that would appeal to him, to start, then begin slipping into others. That way he has enjoyment at first and then comprehension that what needs to be done may reflects in enjoyment and necessity, making it easier to accept functions he doesn't like. At least that's how I got slipped into them."

Rosabelle laughed quietly. "Well, if we knew what he liked that might work. However he manages to arrange his own liesure time so we have very little idea of what he's up to. At least we know he's not doing drugs, what a scandal that would be! I think he's doing this out of spite, really. Never outgrew the rebellious teenager phase."

Draconis turned to look around the room for Damien,

"The boy? He does seem overly disruptive, even by human standards. I agree that it would be best not to have him here, but now that he is here we can't really throw him out. That would make us no better than him."

Marcus chuckled, "Well I'm sure a bright young Lady such as yourself will find an answer. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to steal the Queen away for the next dance, as I've already had the pleasure of her wife's company", he said with a slight bow toward Rosabelle. He turned toward Elayne, "With your permission of course, though it seems an odd way to steal something", he said grinning.

Emma nods curtly. "As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty." The satyress curtsies. "By your leave." Not actually waiting for his leave, she turns on her hooves, walking over to the small group she was talking to earlier. In a few moments, the small cluster of nobles disperses with only one or two more hostile glances at the Resquideans.

Aiwyn puts a hand on her husband's arm. "Satyrs..." She shakes her head lightly with a small smile.

Elayne inclines her head to the count, offering a hand. "Of course. Would you excuse us, Madame First Lady?"

Marcus places his hand under Elayne's and bows politely to Rosabelle, leading the Queen to the dance floor.

Elayne dances with Marcus, having the same training and grace as her wife. "How are you enjoying things so far?"

"Ah well, the reception is wonderful." He chuckles a little, "Just a bit nervous, I'm not good in crowds to be honest."

Elayne nods with a light smile. "Don't worry. You're doing just fine. Is this your first time in the Empire?"

"To my Knowledge, Lady, yes, I don't believe I've ever been in your empire before." He did his best to follow the dance, his quick reflexes keeping him somewhat on par with the other dancers. "I've found the people to here to be pleasant."

Elayne smiles. "That is good to hear. We try our best." She follows Countess Emma with one eye, frowning faintly.

Marcus followed the looked as unobtrusively as he could while trying not to step on Elayne's feet. "Problem?"

The queen shakes her head. "Hopefully not." She smiles lightly, turning her full attention back to Marcus.

Marcus' eyes still followed the Queen's former glance. His body relaxed now, moving with grace and strength, his eyes glinting with a dangerous depth to them now, like an opening to the dark depths of the abyss.

Draconis watches Countess Emma as she walks away, an eyebrow arched slightly. He becomes aware of Aiwyn's hand, looking back to her.

"This is becoming less and less entertaining. The Countess seems to be taking those Resquideans a bit too seriously. You would think they were dogs, the way she treats them."

Elayne dances gracefully for the rest of the song, smiling to Marcus as it ends. "If you'll excuse me, Count..." With that, she glides back to Catherine, taking her hand lightly.

Aiwyn just sighs a little. "Forget it."

Marcus watched her as she made her way over toward her wife then glanced around the room uncomfortably and raising his hood he moved toward the shadows. As he entered a darkened area of the room he let go his psionic talents and seemed to shift and meld into the shadows until all that was left was the shadow itself as he watched the room from the safety of anonymity.

Rosabelle sighed and walked to the side of the room, watching the graceful couples on the dance floor. At least he hadn't made a fuss...


Damien, meanwhile, was getting very, very bored. He had been hanging around the sideines, eavesdropping on conversations, hearing some nasty comments and the regular bad pronounciation of "Resquidenes", and now he wanted some action. He decided to set himself a deadline - if he didn't find someone interesting to talk to (or ANYONE to talk to) within the next half hour, he'd make a choice between sneaking out and causing a disruption, just for the fun of it.

The hours wear on. No one dares to disturb the shadows in which Marcus has hidden himself. People rotate on and off the dance floor, so there is always someone available to speak with. However, no one approaches Damien on their own initiative. Lady Sascha does, however, approach Rosabelle. "Good evening, madame."

Marcus forgot to let the shadows keep him hidden as the beautiful woman approaches Rosabelle. Such hair color is unheard of in Deryn and though the race itself is handsome compared to human standards not even he, who was considered one most fair in his kingdom would compare them. He was thankful for the hood he had returned to it's place, but in stunned shock had forgotten that the resquidien woman stood practically alone. He didn't make mistakes, in his line of work mistakes would have ended his life long ago, but the captivating beauty before him was something unheard of in his kingdom and he thought only that his eyes would not be seen staring, yet only two stood where he looked, one he met before. He followed the approach of the woman and listened to the pleasant greeting, captivated by the red haired sidhe.

Rosabelle smiled at the woman. "Good evening. Lady Sascha, I believe?"

Damien sighed. Well, that was it. He surveyed the room, searching for a way out...

Sascha nods. "That would be me. Rosabelle, is it not? How are you enjoying the party so far?"

:D hello is anyone in here

ooc: ferretn00b just walks in and says... oh man. wtf? Are these people stupid or something? Also, Resurgent dream, can something happen to Damien please?

ic: Rosabelle smiled slightly bitterly. "Alright, considering. The place is lovely, as is most of the company, but I've spent far too much time worrying about my son."

Damien spotted a door and quietly crept out of the hall.

Draconis notices, with some surprise, as Marcus appearing out of the shadows. Though he knew ways of manipulating the shadows, it was a rare sight in the Imperium to see one who could disappear into them completely. Though the reception had been rather dull for Draconis, he thought to himself that this person might be interesting to meet.

Marcus didn't notice Draconis look as he watched the Lady Sascha. She was beautiful to behold and held his attention. He wanted to approach, wanted to speak with her. 'To many nights on the prowl, to many 'problems' I've had to resolve, to much blood on my hands. No chance', he thought, but he watched and wished anyway from the confines of his hood.

OOC:
The Resurgent Dream telegramed me that they are having technical difficulties with the forums. They will be back as soon as possible.

(OOC - I can believe it. I've been having difficulties off and on for awhile now, both here and at work. Not that I go on the forums at work of course *whistles innocently*.)

Sascha frowns ever so delicately. "He does seem to have created a bit of trouble."

A troll guard steps in front of Damien, arching a brow. "Excuse me, sir. Are you lost?"

Sascha frowns ever so delicately. "He does seem to have created a bit of trouble."

A troll guard steps in front of Damien, arching a brow. "Excuse me, sir. Are you lost?"

Damien glared at him. "Do I look like I'm losT? I came from over that way," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, "And i'll go back that way when it suits me."

The troll smirks faintly. "Perhaps you misunderstood. 'Are you lost' is a polite way of saying 'You're not allowed down here and are highly unlikely to get passed me if I do not wish it.' Is that any clearer?" The troll looks down from several feet above the human, his blue face stern.

Damien shrugged. "Fair 'nuff." He drawled. I suppose the party's nearly over anyway." He sauntered back along the corridor. "Or i could do something to make it over faster" he muttered to himself.


ooc: You leave me no choice, RD! Honestly, if you won't let him do anything interesting he'll bloody well have to make his own entertainment, and damn the ball to hell! :P

OOC: He won't talk to anyone. And you said you wanted something to happen to him. Sheesh! TG with OOC stuff, anyway.

The troll simply grunts his assent.

Draconis slowly walks toward Marcus, a pointed ear perking up at the sounds of a confrontation coming from the direction of the doorway. He glances over, seeing that it was just the troublesome human boy. Turning his gaze back to Marcus, he stops a few feet away.

"Excuse me sir, I do not believe we have met."

Marcus grits his teeth, silently cursing himself for being distracted by the beautiful woman he overheard being called Lady Sascha. He hadn't noticed the approach of the man who addressed him, something that he rarely missed, when he allowed himself to be seen at all. In fact, he didn't remember leaving the shadows. He turned calmly toward the man and addressed him with a short bow, "No Dear Sir, I don't believe we have", he said smiling in his thick unfamiliar accent.

Draconis spoke quickly (he would have a slight elvish accent when speaking English),

"I am Emperor Phaeton Draconis, of Akaton. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Marcus bows again, more deeply this time. "Forgive me, Emporer, I was not aware of your station. I'm Count Marcus Cole of the Deryn, though I serve the Lady Ariel who is an advisor to the King of the court of Highport. It's a pleasure to make..." He stops then lowers his hood, "Forgive me, it is a pleasure to make your aquantance, Sir. Tell me, if you would, are familiar with the people here? I was asked to represent Highport and Dragonsreach at the last moment and am woefully unfamiliar with the people here. The Queen of Dragonsreach was hoping to attend herself, but matters at home prevented her the honor of being here."

Draconis smiles, not annoyed in the least by the lack of formality.

"Consider yourself forgiven, not that it really matters. At a gathering like this, I do not waste time with matters of my rank. We are all nobles, are we not? It is a shame your Queen could not attend, I have been wanting to finish our conversation of a few months ago."

Marcus nods, his expression changing to one of anger for a moment, "Yes, I would prefer to be there. No offense to anyone here, mind you. But the situation in Dragonsreach has grown worse and my ... speciality ... is in umm ... problem solving, not in diplomacy." He glances toward the lovely sidhe that he had been watching then back. "She had mentioned to Ariel.." he stops a moment, "to the Lady Ariel, Princess Ariel", he corrects himself again, obviously beginning to get flustered by his inept handling of the conversation, "that she would like to visit you after the situation has been dealt with."

Draconis studies Marcus with his icy stare, wondering silently what situation was troubling DragonsReach.

"I know exactly what you mean. The duties of a monarch have that terrible tendency to interfere with so many other aspects of life. Please let your Queen know, if possible, that she is welcome to visit Akaton whenever conditions permit."

Marcus chuckled a bit, then stopped, becoming serious. "Sorry", he said, "I appreciate that and shall pass it on to her. I was only chuckling because it's been my experiance that if she wishes to do something then the problem is not in getting her to do it, it's in stopping her. Even we want to stop her in her own self interests. She'll visit, that I promise. I was left with the impression that the invitation was already open. I mean, she would never simply intrude."

Draconis laughed slightly.

"But of course, the invitation is always open. However, I didn't come speak to you in order to discus your Queen's travel plans. To be honest, I was rather interested to see you appear out of the shadow. To fade into darkness is no small task."

Sascha eventually takes her leave of the First Lady.

((OOC: I've just about given up on Resquide posting further.))

Marcus looked down at his five foot eight, one hundred eighty pound frame, "Well I'm no rock troll but I hardly consider myself small."

His head snapped up as he caught the movement of sascha moving away from the woman she had been talking to. He had as completely forgotten about Lord Draconis as he had the fact that he no longer had his hood up to hide where he was looking.

ooc: OMG I'm so sorry! My computer was being fixed, and not having this site in the favourites of my dad's computer i forgot all about it!

ic: Rosabelle parted with Sascha and walked around the hall in search of her son. She caught sight of him slipping in from the outside and hurried over to him. "What do you think you are doing?" She hissed. "You're supposed to be mixing with suitable young women, not skulking outside like some kind of delinquent!"

He glared at her. "Mother - face it. The so called 'suitable young women' don't want to mix with ME. They don't seem to like my conversation topics. Look, I'll show you!"

Before she could object he pulled out of her grasp and walked over to the nearest pretty girl. "Hi. Damien Merterre." He said. "So what do you think of this whole thing? I find balls quite boring myself."

Duchess Lara smiles faintly to the boy. "I suppose they might be, especially to one so young."

She then turns to Rosabelle. "You know, there are many other ways a boy might be introduced into society if he loaths the ballroom so. A hunt or a joust is likely to have just as high a concentration of notables with a good deal more...action so to speak."

Turning back to Damien, Lara tilts her head ever so slightly. "Come now. Surely a boy your age is fond of the ladies or would like to be if they were more...comprehensible. Is there truly no lady here who you would not like to hold in your arms as you dance?"

Draconis follows Marcus' gaze, seeing Lady Sascha.

"Perhaps it would be best it I take my leave of you for the time being. It has been good to make your acquaintance, sir."

Marcus looks quickly at Draconis, "SIR", then glances again at Sascha and back, lowering his voice. "Sir", he said, reddening somewhat, "I'm afraid I'm ahh. Well, my particular training kept OUT of the public eye so to speak and I'm afraid that I.." Marcus wasn't quite sure what to say. How do you admit to someone so used to the public and married that your shy? "Well you asked about the shadows. Yes. Where I come from, Deryn, we are a race of psionics. In fact, and much to our amusement, various modern tech scientists have PROVEN that our bodies cannot thrive. It's only the fact of our powerful minds that the body functions. Some of us, like myself, have a particular talent in one area or another. Mine is blending with shadows. Or more accurately, altering my body to the same ambient light level. So if I'm in a shadow I become the same light level as the shadow and effectively disappear from sight. Others, like Princess Ariel, and we go by our first names, are simply powerful. By go by our first names I mean that though my name is Marcus Cole I'm more appropriatly refered to as Count Marcus, not Count Cole." Through his entire narration he glancing furtively at Sascha, taken by her beauty.

Duchess Lara smiles faintly to the boy. "I suppose they might be, especially to one so young."

She then turns to Rosabelle. "You know, there are many other ways a boy might be introduced into society if he loaths the ballroom so. A hunt or a joust is likely to have just as high a concentration of notables with a good deal more...action so to speak."

Turning back to Damien, Lara tilts her head ever so slightly. "Come now. Surely a boy your age is fond of the ladies or would like to be if they were more...comprehensible. Is there truly no lady here who you would not like to hold in your arms as you dance?"

Damien snorted. "What would I want with dancing? The point is that I'm never going to find someone pretty who I can talk to, so she may as well give up trying." He shot a glare in the direction of his mother. "But, by all means, Mother, if you do, hunts are a *much* better idea. Thank you madam," He said, almost as an afterthought, before stalking off to sit in the shadows.

ooc: although when I said "pretty girl" i did rather mean a young eligible one, but whatever, this is fine.

Lara looks to Rosabelle. "I think he proved your point more than his own."

Rosabelle shrugged in a "what can you do?" manner common to mothers. "So, lady..." she enquired, realising the woman had not mentioned her name.

"Lara, Duchess Lara ni Fiona." the woman fills in. "And who might you be, madame?"

"Rosabelle Merterre, Resquiden First Lady. My son's name is Damien - I'm ashamed to say he makes me glad we're not a monarchy."

Lara smiles elegantly. "Well, it is quite nice to meet you, in any event, Madame First Lady." She extends her hand graciously, palm down. "I do hope you are enjoying yourself so far, adolescent antics notwithstanding." She glances to Damien a little, thinking.

"Oh, of course, I find this whole country fascinating, as a matter of fact - and of course, certain other countries we are in contact with would react quite differently to this type of, er... romance... thankfully our MYOB policy gives them no excuse to complain about our attending tonight." She smiled.

Lara arches a brow ever so faintly. "What other countries might these be? Not that I am particularly concerned about what other nations think of our internal practices. I mean, there are some nations who don't believe we should exist at all."

Draconis listened intently to Count Marcus.

"Ah, I see. Alas, the psionic potential of my race is rather limited when compared to yours. Though I am quite adept at communicating telepathically, my powers have little effect on the physical realm."

The Emperor looked back to Sascha, pausing a moment. It is worthy of note that at this point, while Draconis no longer moves his lips, Marcus could hear his voice with perfect clarity.

"So you say that you have little experience in public? How would you like an introduction with the Lady in question?"

Blushing lightly Marcus looks at Draconis. He responds in kind, his thoughts clear in the Emporers mind. 'Count I may be, but little time have I spent in court or company. But I would like, very much, to meet this Lady, if only to bask in the light of her beauty for a brief moment.'

Lara arches a brow ever so faintly. "What other countries might these be? Not that I am particularly concerned about what other nations think of our internal practices. I mean, there are some nations who don't believe we should exist at all."

Rosabelle shrugged daintily. "Well, there will always be differences of opinion. In a world this culturally diverse, it's to be expected that some countries will hate others. We've managed to avoid getting into arguments - I'm proud to say my husband was one of the originators of the policy, when he was a young man, new to the political arena." She sighed nostalgically. "Ah, great times."

Perfect lips smirk ever so faintly as Lara takes in Rosabelle's answer. "And yet, my dear First Lady, you did not give an actual answer to the question. I am afraid I know very little of your husband. To the best of my knowledge, we do not yet have diplomatic relations with Resquide. That is certainly a lack, I would say. I have always been somewhat curious of human lands."

The sidhe noblewoman shrugs her shoulders. "Unfortunately, Farinor has very few of its own embassies in foreign lands. We lag far behind Wintermore in seeking independent diplomatic ties."

Rosabelle waved a hand. "Oh, just a bit of trouble on that topic we had with Decisive Action a while ago. It was quite embarrassing, really - a failure of intelligence on our part. Since then we've made sure to investigate countries more thoroughly before sending ambassadors in. And of course we emphasise our total neutrality at all times. You are welcome to get in touch with our foreign office about setting up an embassy, of course. I'm sure our diplomats would jump at the chance to learn about a country with more supernatural forces than our own."

Draconis replied, again speaking only with thought.

"Well then, bask in her beauty you shall. I can introduce you to the Lady, the rest is up to you."

The Emperor walks gracefully to Lady Sascha, speaking in a formal courtly tone.

"I am proud to present to you Count Marcus Cole."

Marcus follows the Emporer and bows deeply when he's introduced.

Lady Sascha smiles, the expression seeming to light up her already radiant face. She curtsies deeply to the emperor, holding it for a three count. Count Marcus receives a briefer, shallower curtsey. "Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty."

Sascha turns to the man with a gentle smile, caring and compassionate. Lady Sascha is, in fact, the most beautiful sidhe now living, though not the most regal, and correspondingly the most lovely woman in the Resurgent Dream and likely among the most beautiful women in the world. Yet, there appears in her countenance not the slightest hint that she is even aware of this. She greets Marcus, not coyly or teasingly, but as any proper lady would greet a man of higher title, eyes lowered demurely and with a polite smile in place. "It is an honor, of course, Your Excellency. I do hope you are enjoying the ball."

Marcus stands stunned for a moment before he can say anything. "I was ... not that I'm not ... now that is ... enjoying the ball I mean. I mean of course I am." 'Valin's name', Marcus thought, 'I can't remember seeing anyone so beautiful.' "I'm Marcus Cole", he said, completely forgetting that the Emporer had already introduced him, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

His accent is thick and odd, as though pronunciations in his native tongue are vastly different from the common tongue he's using now. Though he looks human he has an elven beauty to him, making him look rather handsome. His hair is thick and black, falling to his shoulders with a close trimmed beard and mustache. The eyes, which can't seem to move away from Sascha are a bluish-grey.

Draconis bows slightly to the couple before moving away. As he turns, his gaze lingers quite involuntarily on Lady Sascha. The thought of what he might have said if he wasn't married popped into his mind, but quickly vanished. He was not the kind to waste time on such thoughts, particularly with the Empress being as lovely as she was. He turns away, picking Aiwyn out of the crowd. He smiles, walking to her side and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

Lara nods a little to Rosabelle. "Decisive Action? I am afraid I am not familiar with them. An odd name for a nation, no?"

Sascha laughs lightly as Marcus bumbles through his hellos. "Am I correct in assuming that you meant to ask me to dance somewhere in that?"

Aiwyn just smiles lightly as her husband kisses her cheek. "So you've met the famous beauty, love. What do you think?"

Marcus chuckles in embarrassment. "I would be honored if you would permit the pleasure of a dance. I'll try not to be to clumsy." He holds out a hand, smiling at her.

Draconis considers Aiwyn's question briefly.

"As you said, she is quite beautiful. I can scarcely remember seeing anyone quite like her. Still, Lady Sascha seems to conduct herself more as a palace courtier than as the noblewoman she is. Her personality seems lost in courtly manor."

Rosabelle shrugged. "Nevermind, it's hardly important. I wonder where my son's got to..."

Sascha just smiles at the nervous Dragonsreach noble, extending her hand delicately, allowing him to lead her in dancing. "Do you do much diplomatic work, Your Excellency?"

Aiwyn laughs liltingly. "Perhaps. But you can hardly fault the lady for having good manners and she is only a knight after all. You can only expect her to be so assertive when speaking to an emperor, even if she is fearless."

Lara blinks once, looking around for Damien. "I am not quite sure. I don't know how far he could have gotten. Only some of the palace has been opened for this affair."

"None, really", Marcus replied, "I was sent simply to make an appearance for our governments." He was glad he had no diplomatic issues, he remembered all to well the catastrophy the last time he did. Ariel never said anything about the blunder, which was bad, but she hadn't said anything since, which was worse. "I'm afraid that I'm not the best at this sort of thing, it was never part of my training."

"Well, if you've guards, he's probably just lurking in a corner somewhere." Rosabelle replied. "Is this ball expected to last long? He's being even more anti-social than usual, I'm afraid." She sighed.

Meanwhile, Damien was amusing himself by seeing how much vegetation he could covertly remove from a centrepiece without it collapsing. He peered furtively over his shoulder to make sure noone was watching...

Sascha smiles as she dances. "So what are you trained for if not diplomacy? Unfortunately, I am quite unfamiliar with the people of Dragonsreach."

Lara frowns ever so slightly, her gaze moving about the room slowly and surely. "I am sorry he is being such a bother. The ball should be over in an hour or so."

"Well", Marcus replied, "I'm actually of Deryn, far to the north of Dragonsreach and Highport. Princess Ariel of Deryn acts as advisor to the King of Highport and I work for her. Dragonsreach is a Queendom ruled by the daughter of the King of Highport. Dragonsreach got it's name because it's where the dragons go when they get older. They defend it fiercly but share it with the Queen under mutual protection." Marcus was saying anything he could think of and hoped that Sascha would ask more questions. Anything that would keep her near, he didn't care what the conversation was.

"Ah," Rosabelle nodded. "Well, he shouldn't get up to anything much in that time. I don't know where my husband and I went wrong with him."

Sascha obliges, continuing to question. "So, in essence, you represent three entirely separate nations at once? That is rather unusual, I must say."

Lara pauses for a long moment. In any other race, it could only be called awkward, though she hardly seems it. "In any event, it is a rather lovely ball, Madame First Lady. We are quite glad you were able to attend. It is unfortunate your husband could not come."

"Well I would hardly say that", Marcus replied, "Any decisions for Deryn go through Ariel to the council in Deryn, though she does have quite a bit of power there. The King of Highport makes the final decision on what happens there, though he does of advisors that he often heeds. The Queen of Dragonsreach makes the final decision on what happens there. She has advisors as well, though they're actually hand picked friends placed in high positions, but she often heeds thier advice. Both can overrule thier chosen advisors and all to often do, which irritates thier advisors to no end", he said grinning. "But, please, tell me of yourself."

"Oh, he had state matters to attend to. Our duties are rather ceremonial these days, but there are some meetings one simply CANNOT miss if one is head of state."

Sascha frowns slightly, looking off a moment. "That...well, to each their own, I suppose. I do not know what to say of myself. I am a knight of Farinor and most love the joust and the duel. I enjoy riding and own a small estate near the coast. I am unwd but have been given the training that befits any Fiona."

Lara nods her head slightly. "I quite understand."

Sascha frowns slightly, looking off a moment. "That...well, to each their own, I suppose. I do not know what to say of myself. I am a knight of Farinor and most love the joust and the duel. I enjoy riding and own a small estate near the coast. I am unwd but have been given the training that befits any Fiona."

At the mention of being a knight Marcus stiffened. 'Leave it to me', he thought, 'to fall for someone that I can never tell the truth to about my profession.'

"Unwed?" he asked. "I find it hard to believe that one so beautiful wouldn't be taken yet."

An attendant threaded his ay through the crowd. He made his way to Rosabelle and handed her a hpone. "Oh, do excuse me," She said to Lara.

She talked quietly on the phone for a few minutes, and then hung up and shrugged apologetically. "It appears I must take my leave. It was nice meeting you - I'll just collect my son and say goodbye to our hosts..."

Sascha laughed, a lovely, lilting sound. "Well, I do value my freedom, Your Excellency. I am Fiona, after all."

Lara inclined her head to the First Lady. "Of course. Thank you for coming."

Catherine and Elayne moved to the front of the hall. Elayne held a hand up to the band and the music went silent. "It is time for us to go now. We wanted to thank you all for coming, for your good wishes, and for your gifts. We hope you enjoyed the celebration."

Marcus looked at Sascha saddely, "Well I guess that's a hint that it's time for me to leave. It was a truly a pleasure meeting you, Lady."

Sascha laughed lightly as she inclined her head. "Oh, not to fear. You are welcome to visit my estates, if you wish."

Aiwyn took her husband's hand, smiling faintly as she graciously headed from the room.

Catherine and Elayne rather eagerly moved from the room for their...wedding night.

Meanwhile, the other guests milled about, having a few final conversations before heading their various ways.

FIN

ooc: It's been fun RPing with you. Just a hint - people prefer to have their perfectly editable mistakes stated in ooc rather than snidely pointed out by a character.