NationStates Jolt Archive

".... to take a paid, worrking vacation?" The gray and black striped face of Ehrron, the Hrruban minister for Inter-Empire Species Relations, looked quizically at his partner in slackdom. He tucked his arms up and behind his furry head, adorned with wrap-around shades, and entangling his clawed fingers in his dreadlocked mane. A long stretch of his cat-like body in his recliner made it crack and pop as joints aligned themselves. "Ahh, that's verry nice." He lifted his head up slightly to take in the scenery around him. His fuzzy muzzle taking deep whiffs now and again.

The beach was a very pale yellow sand, ringed by a large shelf of slate. The slate shelf seemed to be the place most favored by the reptilian Sakkrans, as hundreds of them lay prone in a variety of positions along it. The sky was cloudless and at a pleasant 89 degrees farenheit with a brisk breeze bringing the smell of salt air into his flaring nostrils. His tail twitched as he saw a group of women, both Hrruban and human, playing frisbee a short distance away. "Ah, it does my hearrt good to see the species getting along so well."

A slight shift in the breeze brought his attention towards his reptilian companion. "How's it looking so far?" His mouth started to water as he looked over the task that the ex-emperor and current diplomatic advisor Kraah was at. Between the corpulent reptile and the third companion, the human Joel Sclessinger, sat a pit BBQ with a massive hunk of meat of an indeterminate nature cooking slowly as it rotates. A couple tables of a variety of food were set to either side of the group.

Kraah lifts up his own wrap-around glasses and looks over at the BBQ-pit between him and Joel. A spit-roast affair steaming over some driftwood logs that had been set alight and now burn with a steady red glow. "Looks good so far. I give it another 30 minutes before it reaches perfection. Hmmm-mmmm." He places the shades back over his eyes as he rests his tail on the handle to turn the spit, cranking it slowly. "Hey, Joel. You got any more of those schmancy beers about?"

Joel looks over to his left, tugs open the metal cooler, and pulls up a canister the size of an oil-can. "Yep. Straight out of Titan to you." He tosses the can, which is caught by Kraah, opened and drained of half its contents. Another can is tossed to Ehrron. which is also caught. Joel opens a can himself after closing the cooler, and takes a hearty swig. "Ah, it doesn't get too much better than this. Cute girls, good beer and the smell of a fine meal in the making." He brushes his lightly-tanned hand through his straight, black hair.

"Hrrrmph." Kraah wipes his mouth clean of any errant dribbles of beer. "I'll never understand the attraction those pendulous things have for mammals. I assume it's part of the breeding instinct, but I can only see them getting in my way."

"So you say." Joel looks around at some couples splashing in the water. "I bet if they had firm tails, delicate dewlaps and shimmering scales, you'd be nearly jumping out of your waist-wrap right now. Just think of it as the same for us, but different." Ehrron takes another look at the women playing frisbee, and shows a long, closed-mouth smile. "It's nearring the RRut out in the Savannah for my people. I bet they'rre going crrazy over therre rright now." He leans back into his chair with a long sigh.

OOC: Basically this is a diplomatic/party thread with a jaunt to the beach of Sakkra's earth holdings as the theme. It's pretty informal and come-as-you-are, so don't worry about long-winded invitations, R.S.V.P.s and the like. And it could be anyone; not entirely limited to diplomats or government officials. And be sure to wear your bikinis, ladies! Eh heh heh. And don't be spooked to hang with other guests. I only got three guys here, after all. A frazzled host is a poor sight to see, right?

On any other day, Bruce Reynolds was a high ranking official in the Federation government. Undersecretary for Alliance Relations, Second Ambassador, all that nonsense. You know, quite the big shot. Nice upper level pay grade, sweet apartment two and a half kilometers above the ground with an actual window.

Not today, though. Today, he was just a guy on a beach, hovering on the edge of consciousness, as the sun beat down on his closed eyelids, slowly tanning skin that was rather pale from too much time in an office and the rather more temperate climate of his homeland.

Subtly spiky black hair matched the primary color of the green and yellow trimmed board shorts he wore low about his hips, though, it was tough to tell exactly where they were riding, as he lay across his government issue beach towel, a rather huge nano-fabric representation of the Stars and Sword. Eyes still closed, he calmly sipped from a straw out of a coconut, drinking some mildly alcoholic concoction garnished with a multicolored umbrella.

A familiar, happy shriek cut threw the air, causing a grin to creep across Bruce’s face before he opened his eyes to see what had happened.

* * * * * *

Long, slender legs capped the feet which dug into the hot sand with each step, widely spaced from the speed of the charge. Shimmering crystal blue eyes tracked the spinning disk as it shot through the air at speed. A slight change in course was brought about as data was absorbed and processed by an exceptionally keen mind.

Laughter burbled forth. Long black hair swirled in a cloud about her head as Rebecca Cameron, Minister of Public Information for the Federation of Sentient Peoples, flew into a dive, then a roll. The Frisbee smacked into her hands, prompting a shriek of delight at the successful catch. Sand spraying from around her sliding body, her feet planted, and her arm cocked back.

With a swish, the Frisbee took flight one more, shimmering over the sand like a flying saucer, the sun glinting off its surface, moving fast enough to sting as Rebecca’s enhanced muscles put a little something extra behind the throw.

Having a moment, she rose the rest of the way and lightly ran her hands over her body, brushing sand from her skin and rather skimpy, though still decent, halter-topped bikini, made of four rather small triangles of black fabric and a number of green strings.

It was slightly odd, watching the on-going game of beach volleyball. Odd in the sense that the players seemed to be far, far too good at it, considering their day-jobs.

Finlay Callahan was normally a relatively reserved individual, but he'd made his home on Nexus for a reason -- he loved water, loved hot weather, loved the beach. Of course, it'd necessitated a prohibitively expensive home incorporating gravitics to keep his muscles from atrophying, but such was the price of living in paradise...and it wasn't like he couldn't afford it.

Anyways, that explained his tan. The gravitics and constant physical exertion explained the tone of his muscles. His skill at the game, though...that was due to regular attendance at Sero Relaren's Thursday Beach Parties. Always fun, watching the RDS' newest and most attractive scamper about in skimpy clothing. Almost as fun as occasionally showing said individuals that age didn't slow an Ascended down.

Finlay dove in under the sharply descending ball, his hands extended before him and clasped together into a fist. His chest hit sand with an oof, but even as the breath was driven out of him, his clasped hands had gotten under the ball and it only took a very slight motion to send it soaring upwards.

As Finlay scrambled to his feet and sucked in a quick a breath of air, his partner, Traegan Stark, was expertly positioning himself to set the ball in the proper popping fashion, positioning the ball just so...

Finlay had plenty of time to get a good run up, then he leapt up, his feet leaving the ground. He followed the ball up, and his right hand slammed forward and downwards, sharply, at an arc, sending the ball rocketing over the net at a ferocious speed.

Finlay touched down just before the ball, which had narrowly avoided being intercepted by Elaine Karsa, Traegan's immediate superior, also touched down.

Finlay grinned hugely and turned to Traegan for the obligatory high-five. The 'CRACK!' was a little bit loud, and if the palms stung a little bit, neither man showed it. It was, after all, all in good fun.

Trae cracked a gleaming, perfect smile -- his teeth were enough to attract attention from professional dentists, generally trying to figure out who'd done his 'work.' His answer -- 'nature' -- was rarely satisfactory.

"Feel like giving up, yet, Elaine?" Trae put just the proper amount of playfulness into his voice...

"Not on your life, Ace."

Elaine Karsa was an attactive woman, around five foot eight, fit, with her light brown hair presently tied back in a pony-tail. She also looked rather good in the relatively conservative two-piece she was wearing...for various reasons, not the least being that her, ah...bosom...made for playing volley-ball in a bikini an exercise in irritation.

Trae was setting up his serve, now, and he sent the ball flying over the net with deceptive ease. Sure, his height -- just over six feet -- was a significant advantage, but it still took a lot of practice to serve well with any consistency.

Still, Traegan's smug smile vanished rather rapidly as his serve was returned...with interest.

The ball struck him directly in the forehead, sending him sprawling back on the sand. Feminine giggles drowned out his moans of pain, and Finlay made his face look stern as he turned to face Elaine's partner from across the net.

"That wasn't very nice, Vivie."

Vivian Callahan was Finlay's niece by way of his sister, Lauren. She was about Traegan's age, but, unlike him, her seeming innocence and delight in mischief wasn't at all an act. Which was at once refreshing and...incredibly irritating.

She giggled, "But he deserved it!"

Traegan had, by this time, accepted Finlay's hand in regaining his feet. His eyes still looked a little un-focused, but he seemed to be keeping his feet alright. Which wasn't surprising, considering that he numbered tight-rope walking amongst his many hobbies...

The game seemed to be at an end, or, at least, in an extended time out. Elaine had walked around the net to get a closer look at Traegan, and Finlay's acute eye picked out the look of concern that she was trying to hide. Kid'd snagged another one.

Finlay headed over to the impromptu side-line and snagged up his towel, wiping away the sand that remained on his chest and forearms from the dive he'd taken, then took a long pull from his water bottle.

Give it to the Sakkrans. They put on a pretty damned good party.

Joel took a touch more than a casual interest in the volleyball game, and sighed a bit as it wound down. "Ah, they've got some talented players there." He leaned back down in his lawn-chair and let out a sigh. "Man, I wish the new crop of interns at Kastaa BioMed could've come out here. It'd be nice to see some of the girls out of their scrubs." A lone seabird swooped down close to his head and landed close to the roasting meat. Joel shot up and grabbed a ladle from the table. He waved it around as he chased after the bird. "Shoo! SHOO! Geddoudahere, ya bastard." The bird flapped its wings as it ran from the attacker, giving it a comical hopping appearance as it circled around the table with Joel chasing after it.

Ehrron continued looking at the frisbee players, resisting the urge to run after it and catch it in his mouth mid-flight. Or maybe he'd try to catch the lady with the frisbee? It was a herculean internal struggle which showed only by the presence of leg muscles continuously flexing and releasing. Joel's attempts at fending off the avian food-bandit distracted him, though. He let out a loud laugh as he nearly fell off his chair while pointing. "Aaaah ha ha hee hee heh! Now THAT is worth a picture!"

Kraah just continued rotating the spit with his tail while listening in. "Joel, if you have enough energy to play with the locals, why not see if my beverage is gonna be here soon? I'm starting to get seriously thirsty."

Joel stopped running after the bird and decided to man the battlements at the table proper. He almost looked like he was saluting, ladle in hand, as he scanned the edge of the shale section of the beach. His eyes picked out a trio of Sakkrans bearing heavy loads in the shape of metallic drums. "Ah, there they are."

"Good!" Kraah roused up, picked up a sectioned staff from under his chair, put it together to fashion a long pole, and then wrapped a towel on the end of it. this was stuck into the sand deeply, and the towel became an impromptu flag of red and gold. the load-bearing trio spotted it and began to make a beeline for it. "Here you go, sirrah. Three kegs of Sslaa's best. SigIdent here, please."

Kraah placed his finger on the billing sheet, and hoisted a keg under each arm. "Good work. The Empire thanks you for your service." He bowed slightly as the trio turned and walked off the beach.

Placing the two kegs in the area he set aside for them, Kraah tapped one and drained the foam into a mug while his other eye remained fixed on Joel and Ehrron hauling the last keg to the spot. The foam was heavy and dark, and smelled strongly of oats. "Oh, yes. Now this is what i've been waiting for." He drizzled the foam over the roasting meat and watched as it sizzled when it hit the red embers.

Lorain was the one to drag her associates along to functions and such, but here she stood, rather annoyed and irritated with her recently aqquired friend, Katt^Ori, or Kat, as she rather preferred to be called, having been tricked to coming on the pretense of it being an official conference. Try as she might to look disgusted with Kat, Lorain could only barely contain that she was glad to be in a place where she might actually enjoy herself.

Kat was a rather annoyingly perky member of a species that made up only a minor part of the Elsani 'happy happy' collective, as Kat referred to it, but nonetheless, as an individual she made her presense felt as one of many serving Elsani Diplomatic Officers. Long, draping head tail organs looking rather like a perfect mess of tinted green segmented dreadlocks, skin tinted the same forest green, perfectly toned by neccessity body only broken by the occasional little bump that resembled a just-starting-to bud flower.

Being what she is, Kat can only be joyful when the sun is shining, and that causes her to further annoy Lorain with questions and generally act like a schoolgirl on her first day at the beach.

Lorain is wearing a two piece bathing kit, relatively skimpy, for her, clothing at Kat's insistence that she not look like something from a silent movie.
Even so, it's only a single, light colour, and Lorain constantly shifts about and tries her best, and in vain, to make it look like she's wearing anything substantial.
Her long, dark hair is constantly frayed by the weather and other environmental conditions till it looks like she's stepped out of a hippie camp, only eliciting a giggle from Kat, and an annoyed and futile effort at hair care.


Kat was wearing something far less modest, barely a whisper of a couple pieces of rope-like fabric covering the basics, something which Lorain always rolled her eyes at, as Kat was always trying to annoy-or embarrass Lorain, no matter the situation.

Kat dug her toes into the sand, then launched into a cartwheel or two, soon poking and prodding Lorain as to why she seemed to be staring at the Sakkrans.

"Lorainfriend, why the staring? Why not the fun?"

"Nothing of your concern, Kat."

"Oooh, is it the one on the lawn chair?"
Lorain gave a short, sharp glare towards Kat, causing her, predictably, to giggle enormously.
"Quiet, you."

Aside from being quite visible, and Kat occasionally waving at passer-by, the day had just begun, and they were sure to cause more incidents, good or bad...

“Are you enjoying yourself, Your Royal Highness?”

The dark haired man, who was standing watching the events happening around him, turned at the voice and smiled, though his eyes remained less than amused. Damien, Lord Nefarious, current heir to the throne of the Empire of Tartarus, still had no idea why his cousin, the Empress, had sent him to attend rather than his more aptly suited brother.

“You do not need to keep checking up on me,” Lord Nefarious grumbled, turning away from his companion, who burst into a large smile once he was no longer looking at her. “I am having a perfectly splendid time.”

Charity Thornton was used to her companion’s mood. As his official aid, she had travelled with his Lordship many times, and though on a good number of occasions, he had managed to fool even her, today was not going to be one of them.

Since the two of them had boarded the plane for their flight, Lord Nefarious had not been in a good mood. She knew that he did not enjoy the less formal events, and being on a beach at a party was certainly informal.

Lord Nefarious, out of his usual business suit, had managed to dress down in a pair of casual pants and shirt, the top button open. Despite his discomfort, he looked good in his choice of outfit, and the average bystander would see nothing more than a thirty year old man enjoying himself at a beach party.

His companion, on the other hand, really was enjoying herself, even though she knew she was there to work. She had decked herself out in a short summer dress, beneath which she wore her bikini, should the chance of a swim and a sun bathe reveal itself.

“You can always mingle, Miss Thornton,” Lord Nefarious said, as he turned towards her, catching her slightly off-guard.

“If you do not need me, Sir,” Charity replied, her smile growing at the thought.

Damien let out a sigh, which was hidden beneath a fixed smile. “You can be sure that I shall manage just fine without you.” He turned back, pretending to take an interest in the sports the others were playing.

Without another word, Charity moved away from Lord Nefarious, deciding that if he did not need her, she was going to at least have as much fun as a day on the beach could bring.

Joel and Ehrron began taking ice from the coolers and putting them in plastic bags. These bags were then used to surround the individual kegs. After a heady spurt of activity, joel stood and wiped his brow with his forearm while Ehrron shook himself in a dog-like fashion, spraying particles of sand about. "Watch it! Don't grit up the roast." Kraah's small admonishment went unheeded as Ehrron stopped his shaking and seemed to have fixed his attention on something not far off.

"Joel, eyes at 3." Sclessinger stopped wiping and looked at what seemed to be two ladies. One seemed, well, for lack of a better way to put it, green and wearing ropes. The other wore a tasteful two-piece, and seemed to be eyeballing in their direction. "Whaddaya think, Ehrron? Time for the floor show?"

"Oh, yes. Arrm the guns!"

What followed was what one could call a nearly-comical series of body-builder impersonations from the pair as the comparitively spindly-armed human competed against the rather short and furry Hrubban, faces twisting and contorting into what could be easily be misunderstood as constipation. Grunts, groans and all manner of odd utterances came from the pair.

Kraah peeked over his lawn-chair, lowered his glasses a touch and observed the pair. "Is this some manner of mating ritual or something? Grab some beer and cool off already, you two. You look like you're about to crap your drawers."

Its soo....blue. It was funny, 5 years without seeing an ocean with his own eyes and all he could think of was how blue it was. Had it really been 5 years? Lets see, Expeditionary training, first tour, Explorer training, then the long mission... Yeah, five years.

"God I've missed this..." The sights of people playing on the beach and relaxing. The sounds of laughter, gulls and the surf. The feel of- oh lord, the FEEL! I don't care what anyone says, hardsuit's tactile replicators just can't get it right. Thank the waters he didn't have to put one of THOSE on for a few more months. "So many things that just can't be done right in a hardsuit" Cas thought as he eyed the women on the beach. Cas Mondragoon of the III House Wouldn't pass as a Terran to anyone outside of the Foundation, but even he could appreciate the fairer sex of the norms and these ETs. Though he doubted that any such feelings were reciprocated.

At 6'9" Cas' white bulk looked nothing like a human, or even any of these ETs for that matter.
http://img20.imageshack.us/img20/8970/tribeastroughconceptla7.jpg
Looking like a cross between a starfish and a worm many would be surprised that a good majority of his genes were in fact human. His ancestors were one of the many genomes and created people who immigrated off of Terra to escape prejudice and persecution. While he had never seen earth before, his genes still pulled him towards her oceans, as they had his ancestors. Being a "Newt" it was only natural, or unnatural depending on ones view, that he wanted to be in the water. Created for very deep diving it was an odd "Newt" that enlisted for military and stellar services. But being able to see this made it worth it.

"Now all I need is a beer and it'd be perfect."

Kat fell flat on her face in mid-cartwheel on seeing the display from the two a relatively short distance from them, now, face buried in the sand long enough for Lorain to remark "Get up, you exhibitionist little tree root."

Kat jumps up and hurriedly brushes herself off, just for a moment before she puts pressure on her heels and leaps onto Lorain's back like a professional acrobat.

"Oof! Hey! What have I told you about using me as a circus ride?"

"Lorainfriend is still staring at the two over there!"

"They at least provide entertainment, you grotty little foot fungus."

"Am not!"

"Then quieten down before people start to stare and wonder why I've got a tree woman clinging to my back."

"Awww..."

Kat puts on a rather defeated look, wrapping her arms and legs around Lorain, clinging to her like some child would, slowing Lorain down considerably as she tries her best to ignore Kat as she walks now very slowly towards the two 'performers'...

Minerva Karamanlis, Viscountess Kairis, President of the Confederated Peoples, Confederal Councilor, Head of the Department of Foreign Affairs had decided not to wear her bikini for the simple reason that she was in her fifties and, although still a pleasant looking woman, well past the age where such an outfit would do much to recommend her. Instead she preferred a simple, back one-piece bathing suit. Some of the younger members of the diplomatic staff accompanying her were dressed more for the occasion and had already wandered off to join the various games. Her two sons had gone off some way to begin working on a sandcastle. It didn't bother Kairis. She always felt fairly safe with the Sakkrans.

Kairis and her husband made their way towards Ehrron, Kraah and Sclessinger smiling warmly. This was certainly a nice place to take her first trip abroad as President and Foreign Councilor. "Good afternoon and thank you very much for hosting this little gathering. It's certainly much more pleasant than the last meeting I had with the Sakkrans during the Antaran crisis."

Sava Friazin, lanky Caucasian male and a native of the tundra archipelago, sitting on the beach doing nothing that could be seen. His blank stare gave him away, though, as he was playing his favourite immersive massively multiplayer online roleplaying games over the satellite link augmentation next to his brain. As was expected, much of the cyberstate's population is heavily cybernetically augmented, with the exceptions of the more squeamish foreigners. That wasn't the problem, though.

For the love of all that is--

Kharia Friazin, healthy Caucasian female, born in one of the many vats of Habitation Complex AA over Earth. She looked liked she was bred to be endowed. It didn't help that her flimsy string bikini was hugging her body a bit more tightly than it probably should, much to the wild enjoyment of a few spectators at the beach. Kharia was glaring directly at Sava's face as if she was expecting some reaction, even though he couldn't see it. She then smothered his face-- with her hands, automatically launching him back into reality due to the imminent lack of oxygen. His reaction was muffled, at best, and was gibberish. "You bring me to the beach, just to see you play your games? Come on! Let's have some fun at least."

Both of them were specialists; a security expert and a field agent, respectively, under the employ of ICC. The here and now, however, was simply their vacation. For once, they are merely tourists.

Sava broke free of her hands, and quickly shook his head before repeating what he attempted to say earlier, "I wasn't playing games! I was going through my work and-- good heavens," he paused, "Why are you wearing that thing?"

"You're complaining?" She giggled. "Relax. I won't suffer a 'wardrobe malfunction' and, I kind of like exposing more flesh. This is the only time I ever get to use this outfit since the tundra archipelago's not exactly one of the hottest regions in the world, nor was it known for tourism in the summer."

He was looking at her oddly--rudely. Note to self, she is definitely horny and there must be a reason why. "Alright, can you just leave me alone for a bit and go off on your own? I just want my tan." He flipped around to lay on his belly, getting tan for his back.

He's hopeless. She dismissed him with a half-hearted wave as he went back into a trance, and she went off towards the general direction of the bodybuilders.

Kraah looked away from the roasting meat he was semi-transfixed to. The sound of sizzling and the sight of bubbling juices can do that to a person. Especially when said person is a bonafide glutton. But he manages to look away in time to catch the smile of the President of the Confederated Peoples. "Serrah Kairis, Sirrah Councilor. Good to see the map I provided came in good stead." He stood and offered a slight bow, quickly followed by what appeared to be two bottles of chilled water.

He then offered the other two chairs next to him. "I wouldn't call this a gathering in any official capacity. Scion Guanarr knows I hate those things. Everybody dressed in over-stuffed outfits standing on ceremony and titles and no-one able to relax in fear of someone getting their unmentionables in a knot over something no-one else understands. ESPECIALLY during the Antaran threat. I hear they've been quiet, but that just makes it more un-nerving to me."

The sound of too-much-juices hitting the embers spurs Kraah to hop up and grab a piece of cutlery from the table and a mug of oatmeal bronze ale. Scoring the skin of the roast, he drizzles the ale over the surface until the mug is empty. The he replaces the cutlery, arms himself with a tall mug of ale, and takes his seat again. "Hrrr....i'm too old and impatient for standing on ceremony, anyway. I like nice, informal gatherings where bodies can relax and not worry that some mis-translated statement would spark an interstellar conflict."

Behind Kraah. Joel and Ehrron ceased their posing and stood dumbstruck for a moment. Joel was the first to open his mouth. "Well, i'll be.......HOLY CARP!" He makes a not-too-agile dive for the table full of food and drinks, and fumbles around underneath. Ehrron looks at Joel, mouth still slightly agape. "What? What?"

"Lessee, beer? Nah...water? Too boring.....AH HA!" Joel pops out again and hands a bottle of coconut water to Ehrron and holds on to one himself. "Old family custom. Never greet a lady with empty hands." He gives the Hrruban a wink at this. ENlightenment seems to dawn on Ehrron as he says slowly "Ahhhhhhhhh....."

The pair dust themselves off and walk towards the two approaching girls, albiet one seems to be piggybacking. Joel gives an exaggerated bow and flourish. "Something to drink for the long voyage?"

Lorain bowed as a measure of respect, which only really served to give Kat the perfect vantage point from which to snatch the bottle of coconut water and guzzle it down in less time than Lorain could respond in. Lorain gave the sigh of someone so used to this behaviour, and indeed remarked "Ignore her. Please." before being able to look up at Joel and his flamboyant bowing.

"Oh..Though it seems my friend has beaten you to it."
Kat grins, giggling and "Not only that, but going to beat you to these ones, too!"
before twisting around to stare intently at Kharia for whatever immediate reason she had.
Lorain rolls her eyes, sighs again, and mentions "Better gimme some of the harder stuff, then. Pass one over here, before Miss Diplomatic Officer of the century decides to turn the keg into swimming equipment."

Lorain's more interested in the people in front of her now, than Kat's seemingly youthful staring at the other women.

"And make it quick, I want to see you or the drink out on the sand with the games!"

She was always one for being direct and to the point. Kat, however, is more seeming to use Lorain as a post from which to stare at, and ogle, the various other visual notables on the sands.

Minerva and Kostas sat down. Minerva crossed her legs as she settled into her chair. Kostas sort of settled into his at an angle, relaxing. "I think you're right. It's nice to dispense with the formalities sometimes. I think it was a good idea on your part to have everyone come here in such an informal fashion. It's also good to be back on the international stage. I don't know how much you might have heard about the recent changes in my nation but they've been intense enough that domestic matters have assumed practically all of our attention. It's good to have everything settled so that we can resume our interactions with the world."

Kraah gives his best 'Sage of the Mountaintop" look as he nods his head slowly. "I've heard of something about the troubles your place was having. Not really something that my people could've helped with, as things tend to get blown out of proportion more than they need to where my hatchling... oops, I meant The Emperor, gets involved. Poor boy; he always did try to shoulder all the trouble on his own with his hands-on approach to things. 's probably why he hasn't taken a mate at his age." The sound of confusion behind him diverts his attention momentarily, but only for a second or two.

"Speaking of returning to the world stage, i've been hearing your diplomatic corps have been making some interesting acquaintances these days. Among other things. Not asking about national secrets or any of that. Just looking to update my private knowledge." He takes a long draft from his nug, and wipes his mouth clean with a small towel.

Joel, in the meantime, rummages through the cooler and pulls out an oil-can of Titan Lager. "Unless you'd prefer some rum. It's about all that dinosaur there drinks." A thumb motions over to Kraah, who pipes up with "I heard that, you half-baked sawbones."

Joel laughs a bit, sounding almost like a cough repeated. "Well, anyway, i'm Joel Sclessinger, Good to meet you." As he extends his hand, a stiff off-shore breeze blows across him, and sends Kraahs makeshift flag blowing off. "Damnation! Ehrron, get that flag back or the old leatherback's kid won't find us!"

Ehrron snaps a short salute and runs off, chasing after the red and gold cloth-on-a-stick. It lands short of the girls playing frisbee, and Ehrron makes a hand motion over his chest. Oh, lucky day! Thank you, wind of fortune. Just barely resisting the urge to catch the frisbee in his mouth, he instead manages to snatch up the flag and catch the frisbee on an extended claw. Using the momentum of the disc spinning, he flips it lazily to the girl in the black halter-top. "I believe that's meant for you."

"Now all I need is a beer and it'd be perfect." Cas was faced with a dilemma. On the one hand the vast blue sapphire that was the ocean stretched out in front of him. On the other, he really, really wanted something to drink. Beer won, for now. Flipping his pseudo head backwards in a gesture that was sure to make and vertebrates shudder he scanned the beach with his eye-spots, looking for a refreshment stand or even a poorly guarded cooler. Alas, he failed to see any, though he did spot a gathering of peoples. And where there were people gathered on a hot day one was sure to find drink. He'd come to learn that that was a universal law.

"It's worth a shot..." And so he made his way towards the odd group. As he neared he spied a number of norms mingled with some ETs. He'd have to talk to the scaled one about the meat he was cooking, it'd been a long time since Cas had had some good BBQ. Bah! Focus! Get something to drink, hit the water, then eat. The two women coming up to the group weren't half bad either, especially the greenish one-Focus! Beer!

When he was but a half dozen steps from the gathering he raised an arm in a friendly wave, at least he thought it looked friendly, and called out from his speech organ, "Hailz good sirs and madams. Pardon the intrusion, but would it be possible to acquire some strong drink from this fine gathering?" He hoped it didn't sound too formal, but on thing he was taught in the Explorer Corps was that it was better to come off as stuffy then as a jerk during first contact.

"A nice day away from the hassles of the office isnt it?" Derrick asked.

"I just hope that this time no giant centipedes have to be eaten." The Empress (http://i81.photobucket.com/albums/j224/hyperdx2/leyla_milani.jpg) (I asked from the bottom of my heart for you to forgive me, I just couldnt resist...Damn teenage hormones...) replied applying sunblock. Derrick rolled his eyes. She would never let that one go. What did she think would happen, they had went to a meeting of giant rabid cat creatures. Had she expected a royal galla?

"It sucks Samantha is still on campaign." Derrick said looking around. He noticed a large group of people and Aliens gathering a little bit aways and decided to go for some fun.

"I know, without her I have noone to talk about hot guys with." The Empress said.

"My virgin ears!" Derrick said covering them and getting up.

"Where are you going?" The Empress asked.

"Enough with the questions already." Derrick said with a feigned anger.

"This is the first one ive asked..." The Empress said smiling.

"Your acting like my wife." Derrick kept walking.

"I am your wife." She said getting up and following him. They walked over to the group of gathered persons.

"Hey. Do any of you guys have a cold beer?" Derrick asked.

There were lots of ways to make a dramatic entrance.

Most of these would probably also wreck the beach. That would be... bad.

Buuuut, someone had just come into vastly deserved vacation time, and when she wandered onto the beach with a small towel, in a dainty little black bikini, well, SOMEONE was bound to notice.

Of course, the size of her outfit meant that Illaan's breasts were quite nearly roaming free, with little triangular patches of fabric keeping her from being totally indecent. Along for the ride were a few men from what may as well have been her harem, dressed appropriately (and color coded!) for the beach. There were, technically, also security, in a sense.

Also along for the ride was a friend of Illaan's, who was herself clad in a slightly less revealing bikini, though it was a sort of ochre color and from a distance it may or may not have appeared that she wasn't wearing any sort of swim wear.

The harem-men were, of course, saddled with various items, like collapsible beach chairs and umbrellas, and Illaan didn't take off her positively massive sunglasses until the umbrella had been deployed. She then shooed them all away, relatively, which left just herself and Sera posing and rubbing sunscreen onto each other all of twenty feet away from the encampment with the pit barbecue.

It was probably pretty easy to guess just what species they were, and that they had a somewhat lessened requirement for protection against things like ultraviolet.

Of course, the little ritual continued, in all its glory, as Sera and Illaan slowly massaged each other and spread the lotion about their bodies.

Illaan even winked at the group.

"I'm certainly not averse to discussing it." Minerva said. "But you'll have to be a bit more specific. We maintain normal diplomatic relations with scores of foreign countries and at least some state-to-state contact with quite a few more. We've never been much for the idea, common in some circles, that embassies should be limited to allied or at least friendly states. The only state with whom we refuse to have any diplomatic relations is Allanea. Of course, that doesn't mean in practice that we have relations with anywhere near every other nation besides Allanea. There are, quite frankly, far too many and some of them are not open to the possibility."

She smiled as the others approached the group, although she let Kraah greet them and handle the introductions. He was, after all, the host.

Lorain, with some difficulty, siezes the offered can, and for lack of a better word, pops and begins to drink it like a regular at a well travelled pub. On the rather ah, one wouldn't say flirtatious, rather, downright orgy-like entrance of the Kajali, Kat snaps to attention and almost leaps off of Lorain. Lorain, drink in one hand, reaches out and grabs hold of Kat's ankle just as she gets airborne, causing her to crash into the sand with a dull thud.

Kat lets out no voice of protest but the slightest whisper, causing the first genuine smile of the day from Lor to erupt on her lips. She looks down at the rather pitiful and defeated looking Kat, and remarks

"Not only are you a Diplomatic officer here representing the Elsani and so must act with composure, you also seem to have lost your upper garments in that fall. No Kajali friends for you now, Kat."

"Lying in the sand is good, and I'm showing less cleavage now lying half naked here than that woman over there ees with clothes on er, Lorainfriend!"

"Point. Now, you just sit there and wait till I can find some more decent bathing wear for you. Which may be never if I don't get to finish this drink and you don't behave."

"Not a child, you know, Lorainfriend."

"Acting like one, though. Stay put, you dirty minded little shrew. Those Kajali aren't going to take you acting like you would as a good thing."

"You don't know that!"

"I don't *want* to know that."

And with that, Lorain unceremoniously finished the last of the drink, properly disposing of it and then heading towards the seemingly rather delightful frisbee throwing, intentionally completely ignoring Kat's plight, hoping that she'd at least be kept in one spot for the duration.

‘I really don’t know why I let you talk me into this...’ muttered Viscountess Pénélope Várnwëniel, frowning her disapproval as she took in a scene that included all manner of strange and peculiar beasts, from oversized cats to talking lizards.

‘As I remember it... dearest creature,’ began Baroness Élisabeth Vêrtha Alätégiel, Pénélope’s lovely, flaxen haired friend, ‘it was you who insisted that we come to this “beach party”, not me.’

‘You’ve a bizarre, twisted recollection of events, Élisabeth,’ replied the strikingly beautiful viscountess, the corners of her lipstick-coated lips curling into a smile of amusement.

‘Quite so. You see, mine’s unburdened by the dreariness of reality.’

As they chattered ceaselessly, the two young Xirniumite noblewomen walked barefoot through ankle-deep water, their slender white arms linked together. Truth be told, neither lady was really as unhappy at being here as she pretended to be, although pride demanded that she not confess as much. It was, after all, a rather nice day for the beach, and Pénélope for one intended to slip off her clothes and go for a swim later on.

Attired in fashionable undress, both ladies wore gossamer thin, diaphanous gowns of a particularly rich elegance; tightly fitting creations that emphasised a graceful, sylphlike figure and delightfully flaunted the female form. Expertly cut from a gorgeous, shimmeringly translucent muslin fabric and gauzy silk chiffon, the dresses were white with light pastel colours, Pénélope’s in pale gold, Élisabeth’s in azure. The garments were impractically long for such an occasion and elegantly flowing affairs, closely fitted to the waistline, body clinging and quite décolletté. The wet trains of their femininely ruched and flounced skirts floated upon the surface of the clear water, and the foamy waves that crashed against the shoreline drenched their dresses almost to the knee, causing the filmy, sheer fabric to cling coldly to the skin.

‘So why, exactly, have you dragged me to a beach party, of all places? It’s so boring and… and common. It’s bourgeois,’ complained the Xirniumite viscountess. ‘And I didn’t even know that reptiles could be bourgeois…’

‘Oh please shush, Pénélope. I beg of you,’ pleaded Baroness Vêrtha Alätégiel. ‘Anyway, it’s not just a “beach party”. There were supposed to be some notable personages here...’ she reflected bitterly.

‘Any who you can actually recognise?’ asked Pénélope doubtfully.

‘Mmm…’ murmured an uncertain Élisabeth, absentmindedly snapping open a brightly decorated, feather adorned fan as she scanned the crowd carefully.

By Xirnium’s normally quite frigid standards, the temperature here was stiflingly hot. In addition to their exquisitely embellished fans, therefore, both ladies made use of small, dainty umbrellas to protect their delicately fair complexions against the unfriendly glare of the sun. Pénélope personally considered freckles “unbecoming” of a Xirniumite noblewoman, and had certainly declared as much when she had selected an elegant black lace and satin parasol earlier in the day.

‘I think that that lady in the dark swimsuit might be Viscountess Kairis,’ answered Élisabeth at last, shading her pale sapphire eyes with a slender gloved hand as she looked into the distance.

Pénélope suddenly appeared all eager delight. ‘Let’s go and talk to her!’

‘She’s speaking with someone at the moment, Pénélope,’ frowned the Xirniumite baroness. ‘One of those lizard-like brutes,’ she observed.

‘Then who else?’ asked Viscountess Várnwëniel. ‘It’s so uncomfortable not to have a single acquaintance.’

‘We won’t find anyone standing around in the surf,’ Élisabeth pointed out. ‘I suggest that we split up,’ she added quickly, spotting a rather handsome, dark haired man who appeared to stand out from most. For one thing, he wasn’t playing any frivolous games, nor did he seem particularly pleased with being here. ‘Well then? Are you going to shoo?’

‘Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, dearest creature,’ she said, kissing her friend before the latter waded away.

Skittles. Kharia noticed the harem-men, who were busy at Illaan's encampment either tending to the barbecue or keeping an eye on their master for safety's sake. Their color coded garments brought quite a giggle, hiding the fact that she ogled them for all it was worth. Each of them must have a different flavor--

Meanwhile; Sava was deeply engrossed in the elimination of oddly shaped security programs having jacked into a cybernetic world within a shadowrun MMORPG.

Of course being a nerd, he made frequent comments about the obvious joke; he killed it and beat it like a red-headed stepchild. Luckily no one in the beach nor on the MMORPG could hear his cybernetic voice. Aside from which, he was a brilliant hacker in his own little world within a world. His gaming prowess seemed to make his ego swell exponentially, to the point wherein he was playing to be a 'hunter' and his enemies the 'hunted'. As he was about to vanquish another malignant firewall from the face of the motherboard, the oxygen warning shone a brilliant red around his field of vision, again.

"Kharia, stop bothe--glup!" Water poured into his throat, almost drowning him, and he quickly came to the realization that tide was starting to move up. He quickly stood up and spewed out as much water as he could, hacking and even coughing out a snail.

After a moment of what seemed to be an exaggeration of coughing and thankfully inaudible explicatives, he managed to put together a coherent sentence, barely. "Guhh.. I.. just.. can't win, can I?" Might as well look for Kharia. Don't want her getting into trouble now, she's supposed to be on vacation.

The arrival of the starfish/worm-like being requesting drink caused Kraah to take notice. Well, that's an unusual species. But i've seen wierder. Looks almost like something the Snel would have around. "Ecuse me, Serrah. Seems we've picked a popular spot to stake camp." A short bow is offered after Kraah stands up. He sucks in his noticeable gut and heads over to where the food and drink is layed out and lidded to prevent sand from working its way in. Turning to the starfish, he offers the choices. "There's Titan lager or Five oatmeal bronze ale. Pick your poison." The oilcan-contained lager and the mugs next to the kegs are pointed at respectively.

The arrival of the Shakali couple was also noticed as they called out. " Sure, sure. We've got lager and oatmeal bronze chilled. If you want something stiffer, that overstressed surgeon back there can help you out." His thumb jerks back towards Joel, who turns his head slightly at the mention of his name, squints his eyes and sticks his tongue out.

Turning back to the pair of ladies, Joel manages to catch Lorain draining out the last of the oil-can. he watches for a moment as she heads towards the frisbee throwers and where Ehrron headed off to. Mmmm. There she goes. That's when he notices the large grouping of men surrounding two scandalously-clad women; one of whom he manages to catch winking just at that moment. JESUS! He turns his head quickly, feeling embarassed for reasons he can't explain.

Dammit, i'm a WetWare Surgeon and a CyberEngineer. I should be used to seeing all sorts of bodies of all sorts of species nude. But this is almost straight from the plot of a bad smut-flick or ecchi comic! The protesting plant-girl on the sand diverts his attention, and he hunkers down. "So you need something to cover up a bit? I'll get you a nice wrap while I make myself a mojito."

Despite the casualness of the return of the Frisbee by the non-human, Rebecca easily snagged it from the air, then once the poor man who had clearly been chasing something down was out of the way, flipped it back to her playmate with the same intensity she had before.

Bruce smiled as he watched, and finished the lightly alcoholic drink he was consuming. It was hot enough that one was more than enough for now. Pushing easily to his bare feet, off the towel, he looked around at everyone else who seemed to be in attendance. There was no one he personally recognized in his immediate field of vision, but for the most part, he was able to identify them from the Intelligence Division files loaded into his head before the trip, from knowing who had contact with the Sakkrans, and from just his general files. As it was, he moved up to the group surrounding the cooking meat and glanced over the drink selection, and waiting on a pause in the conversation, calmly asked, “Got anything non-alcoholic? It’s too hot and too early to dehydrate.”

You'd almost expect the sand to turn to glass with how annoyed Kat is, sitting in place, glaring at Lorain in only half serious anger. She only barely notices Joel, but when she does twig to his presense, she looks up at him with the greatest of smiles, moving juuust enough to expose juuust enough of herself to excite, or embarrass, as the case may be. "Why thank you verymuch!", the constant sugar highesque activity typical of Kat's species far from being exhausted this early in the 'holiday'.

Lorain is, for once, enjoying herself, some activity somewhere on the beach, caring less about Kat's current whereabouts than simply having fun, whatever chaos her friend gets herself into is as far as Lorain is concerned, her own damn fault. For all the augmentation, obvious and err, less, on the beach today, Lorain was only slightly more than a mere baseline, and as such there would be no supersonic volleyball or post-olympic acrobatics for her.

The 'day' has only just begun, and it is, for most, off to a hell of a start...

Cas finished draining his ale an glanced towards the various spectacles on the beach. Lord, the rest of the squad doesn't know what they're missing. The rest of his squad had opted to take their first days on leave in the various big cities, or 'beacons of civilization' as some of them called em. Cas felt that he was getting the better end of the deal.

He just finished refilling his mug when he saw the male norm approach and heard him speak. Get non-alcoholic? Now there's a foreign concept. "Gentle sir, don't you know the rules of strong drink and logic? Why drink the re-hydrating drink BEFORE drinking the dehydrating drink?" Guess I am far from home. Any peep worth his salt knows that rule...

Lord Nefarious stared at the newcomers, but not in a way that the scantily clad group would have expected. Despite being a man, he was not overly impressed with women who left nothing to the imagination. After all, were not gifts usually wrapped so that the recipient had the pleasure of opening and then feasting their eyes on what lay beneath? He quickly turned his gaze, as he was in no mood to witness something that most people normally had to pay to see.

As he moved, he was pleased to witness that most of the other guests had the decency to act like civilised individuals. He recognised the visitors from the Confederated Peoples, the newly elected President no less. Since the wedding of his cousin to the High King, Tartarus had taken more of an interested in their political affairs. It was strange how a simple wedding could make so much of a difference.

He noticed the two women, mostly due to their attire. It was not something he expected to see being worn at a beach party, but at least it was better than practically nothing. He once more grimaced at the view he had witnessed moments earlier. He cast a smile in their direction and a slight nod of his head.

It did not take him long to wish that he was still with Charity, so that he could consult with her about the other guests. She might have had more information about them than he did. He turned to watch her retreating back, as she made her way over to where the drinks were.

If he could not ask Charity, there was only one way to get to know someone, and that was to talk to them. It was not that he did not like talking to people. After all he had been doing it most of his life in some official capacity or other.

With his warm smile fixed in place, he decided he might as well play the part and have a little amusement while here. His gaze remained fixed on the two ladies as they moved apart from each other, ending their paddle in the sea, blotting out most of the other things happening around him.

* * * * *

Charity finally reached the drinks, and ordered a soft drink. Despite being there for some fun, she was working, and she did not want to get on the wrong side of Lord Nefarious. He was a very traditional gentleman, who did not like to see people behave in a way that could tarnish the good reputation of the Empire of Tartarus. Tartarians, especially the Imperial Family, were very proud of their heritage.

Still, as she turned to watch her boss, she could not help feeling that the Empress had made a mistake sending that particular cousin. Everyone knew that his brother had a more suitable character for this kind of thing. Not that she minded, it made a change from the more formal places she had to visit in the role of his aid.

Her gaze briefly touched on the two women that had attracted Lord Nefarious’ attention, before she gave herself a moment to get to grips with the other people present. Though Tartarus had little relations with many other nations, it did not mean they were not kept informed. And there were some that seemed to be more obvious to the naked eye.

She reached for her drink and took a slow sip, feeling the instant chill as it contrasted with the heat of the day. She loved being by the sea, feeling the sand between her toes. The water looked so inviting and topping up her tan was definitely high on her list of things to do. Once she was sure that his Lordship was happily settled, she would let her hair down and enjoy herself.

Visskithikix appeared on the beach in a flash of brilliant white light, temporarily brighter than the sun itself. His colleague and brood brother Xithikissi burst into view right next to him moments later in a similarly flashy display.

Standing upright on four spindly legs, the lower half of their body was horizontal, whilst the upper half was bent to be vertical, with two arms mid-way up and a head perched on top. Their faces were triangular, with their small pincer mouths on the bottom corner, a compound eye on each upper corner, and antennae at the top. Their entire bodies were glossy and black, covered with a thick exoskeleton, and they stood at roughly four and a half feet high each – although their entire bodies were probably close to seven or eight feet long. They wore no clothing and carried no visible equipment of any kind, aside from metal cuffs wrapped around their thin forearms.

No Xithis had ever been on this planet, known locally as 'Earth' - which wasn't saying much, as few Xithis had been anywhere really. The ship which carried them, a Tayln-class Lacerator, remained in geosynchronous orbit above them, ready to transport them back aboard at a moment's notice in a demonstration of their fear and distrust of the outside world. Neither of the two were certain why they were sent to this place, but the Prime Queen herself had believed this to be a diplomatic function of some kind involving many different species, and saw that as reason enough to dispatch their finest xenobiologists. Visskithikix immediately believed that this scene was the standard form of diplomatic interaction between civilisations, given as it was his first exposure to anything alien.

Both of them promptly sank into the fine golden-white sand as soon as they appeared, until their four spiny legs were submerged right down to the middle joints. If their triangular faces had been capable of expression, the deadpan look they exchanged would have been priceless. Clearly their legs were better suited to the rocky underground of Studium than the sandy beaches of Earth.

Almost immediately Visskithikix began to feel the heat of the main star in this system beating down on his glossy black shell like a weight bearing down upon him - which promptly felt like his insides were being cooked like beans in a tin. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but the surface of their home world was hotter and he bore it with quiet indisposition. Judging from the uncomfortable pheromones his brood brother released, Xithikissi was not enjoying the weather very much either.

Both of them took stock of their surroundings. Mostly mammals, in various stages of undress, roaming around on this stretch of sea-eroded land without much apparent purpose. Some of them lay on the ground and for some reason which was beyond Visskithikix's reasoning allowed the gamma radiation of the local star to gradually cook their flesh, changing its tone. He noticed a significant rise in their body temperatures compared to the others, and he was certain that he could hear them 'hissing' slightly. Others were throwing inflated rubber spheres at each other aggressively in some kind of bizarre tribal war games, determined to destroy each other. There were many different species on this beach and Visskithikix could not claim to recognise any of them, but they all seemed to get along fine - aside from the ones throwing inflated spheres at each other anyway.

He and Xithikissi struggled to lift their legs out of the sand, finding it impossible to move around without sinking again. Xithikissi lowered his torso and used his arms in a futile attempt to try and retain some buoyancy, whilst Visskithikix scurried towards the wetter sand, finding its compacted surface much better able to support his weight.

Pénélope paused for an instant and gazed at her lovely reflection upon the cool surface of the water, watching in silence as it undulated gently. With a rapid movement of her pale and dainty fingers, the noblewoman playfully splashed the image, causing it to break and ripple for a moment. As the foam quickly fizzled away Pénélope used the reflection as a mirror, carefully adjusting the tilt of her silver gilt diadem, a particularly splendid aristocratic coronet intricately jewelled and adorned with cameos in classical style, making sure that it crowned her forehead just right. The Xirniumite noblewoman admired her flowing, curly tresses of dark chestnut brown hair, thick with delicate perfumes and sweet incenses and gorgeously dressed with entwined flowers, strings of opalescent pearls and pretty silk ribbons.

‘Truly, no one is more beautiful than you!’ she whispered ardently to her reflection.

The theme of classicism, reflected so well in the gauzy transparency and elegant lightness of Pénélope’s fine dress fabrics, seemed only continued by the sophisticated jewellery that the pretty viscountess chose to adorn herself with. A marvellous, yet tasteful, profusion of thin gold earrings, necklaces, bracelets and armlets graced her slim figure, glinting attractively in the hot sun. Upon her dazzlingly fair skin Pénélope had applied a luxuriously expensive spikenard perfume ointment, lending her an exotic, spicy scent. One might almost have mistaken the Xirniumite noblewoman as a beautiful nymph from ancient mythology, perhaps a frivolous sea dwelling Nereid.

Viscountess Várnwëniel abruptly stopped preening herself, and even for a time held still her colourful fan, as a curious man suddenly burst out of the water nearby, coughing and spluttering all over the place in the most alarming manner. The Xirniumite noblewoman stared at this strange new individual, suspiciously narrowing her dark grey eyes at him. Pénélope did not bother to offer any assistance, and merely looked fixedly at the man until he finally stopped choking on his mouthful of seawater.

‘Are you okay?’ blinked Pénélope uncertainly, raising a thin eyebrow at the spectacle.

A belated reaction, perhaps. But neither sympathy nor help were responses easily drawn from a Xirniumite aristocrat.

At the water’s edge, Baroness Vêrtha Alätégiel gathered up her dripping wet train and wrung the sheer fabric tightly, bunching and twisting the expensive dress cloth. Her outfit was ruined, of course, for salt water and grit hardly went well with thin muslin cotton and chiffon silk, but that scarcely mattered to Élisabeth. The Xirniumite noblewoman didn’t particularly like the dress, anyway, even if it was currently at the very height of fashion. Furthermore, it wasn’t as if one ever usually wore an outfit more than once.

What looked to her suspiciously like a giant, shiny black cockroach scuttled close to Élisabeth at this point, so the lady chose that particular moment to lift her skirts above the ankle and walk slowly away from the shoreline.

It was then that Élisabeth noticed the dark haired man smile at her. Even a sophisticated Iáthërnian society lady can blush, and Élisabeth immediately felt her pale cheeks suffuse with scarlet colour. The noblewoman became acutely conscious of her appearance, fretting inwardly that her golden blonde hair must have become frightfully tousled by now in the cool sea breeze. Indeed, in her mind’s eye Élisabeth imagined her feathery, waist-length tresses tangled and dishevelled, which of course was far from the truth.

Eventually, the noblewoman approached the dark haired stranger and spoke. Her accent was hard to place but carried an unmistakably patrician lilt, its intonation shaded with vaguely familiar Continental tones and something else quite altogether unique, though nonetheless distinctly European.

‘Are you not particularly fond of volleyball?’ asked a nonchalant Élisabeth dreamily, as she casually glided up to the man; a feat somewhat easier to accomplish on marbled floors than on shifting sands. The lady’s voice was silvered euphony, pleasant sounding and fresh, carrying a touch of deeply engrained but well meaning haughtiness. It was also a voice that sounded incredibly bored.

A small wry smile twitched at the corners of Élisabeth’s blood-red lips, hinting at slight amusement. After pulling off her perfumed glove, which seemed to include the suave bouquet of fine ambergris amongst its delicious floral fragrances, the noblewoman graciously offered a limp, slender hand to the man.

‘Baroness Élisabeth Vêrtha Alätégiel of House Angláthäng,’ she introduced herself with an affected air of demureness.

Illaan and Sera had wrapped up their little display, now suitably protected despite an above average racial resistance to such forms of radiation, and while the three harem men went about the business of maintaining their little encampment, they hadn't brought large fans with them, and thusly the two ladies couldn't just sit on the beach with the three looming over them and slowly waving such things at their bodies.

Of course, Illaan saw Joel immediately turn his view away, which was something that she was, well... used to, especially when acting in a somewhat scandalous manner. From his point of view, she would have leaned slightly, whispered something to Sera, and then the two of them started walking over to the encampment with the barbecue and the beer.

She'd probably have a Bond girl moment later, walking out of the water, but for now, she had a different objective, and the water wasn't exactly going anywhere. The two crossed the distance between the encampments on the beach is a short period, of course, given that there was not all that much distance between them.

Illaan looked down at the girl writhing about in the sand as they approached, but then fixed her gaze on Joel.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said. "Got anything to drink?"

She delivered the question with one of those mischievous looks, that, in her experience, always seemed to set a man's ears afire.

Bruce turned to the creature he definitely could not identify as it spoke. “I suppose if I was intending to drink a fair bit of alcohol soon, that would make sense. But I’ll wait until the sun seems to be heading down, I imagine.” He smiled, and stuck out his hand in greeting, hoping it would not offend the being. “Bruce Reynolds, Federation of Sentient Peoples.” He hoped his eyes would convey his question to the sentient… whatever it was.

Ehrron managed to return at that point, planting the flag firmly into its appropo place once again. "Looks like you got yourr hands full Joel. I'll man the battlements." He trotted towards the opposite side of the table at that, making sure that everyone has what they want in hand at the moment. Joel manages to snatch up a silk scarf and drapes it around Kat's shoulders as he looks at Ehrron. "Thanks. It's a big help." One could assume he didn't catch the fleeting moment that would've otherwise caused a flush to his cheeks. He looks back at Kat. "Is this alright? If you want something else, just let us know."

Joel gets up and looks to see how Kraah's doing. With Ehrron managing at the beverage table, he spies the old reptile placing himself back in his chair. Hmmm...the old man's a bit rusty in the joints still.
I hope I'm not interrupting," she said. "Got anything to drink?
Joel turns his head to respond, and winds up looking dead in the eyes of one of the ladies from what he mentally labeled the TOWEL OF SCANDALOUS SCANDALIZING! It takes him a moment to regain his composure, but he manages to get words out without stuttering. "Yes, yes. We got different light drinks, ales and lagers, among other stuff. I was about to make a coconut mojito, myself."

He manages to get to the table when he sees Ehrron looking downward at something. Joel tries perring over the table when he spots a yellowish eye looking right at him from behind a veil, The form of Thress (http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/Character/killah.JPG) pops out from under the table and at 7'8" looms over the two. "Minister Ehrron, I trust you've kept my sire out of trouble as requested?" Her voice comes out with a touch of an eastern bloc accent. What is with the women around here? It can't be a full moon already. For a moment, Joel squints up and looks at the sun. The Earth doesn't seem to have tilted off its axis, either. Maybe mass heatstroke?

Kraah hears the voice of his hatchling behind him and cranes his neck backwards a bit. "Thress! Damitall, girl. Can't you make a normal entrance for once! Leave those poor souls to what they're doing already." Joel and Ehrron both seem to blink in tandem as Thress eyeballs the pair of them briefly, then goes to sit near Kraah in a crosslegged fashion.

"Thanks." Derrick said to the Skarran. He started to walk over to the liquor and noticed his wife wasnt following him. He turned around and noticed she was looking at the latest comers to the beach. He followed her gaze and knew why. Derrick went over to her. "You know its not polite to stare, besides, to them we are probably unglier than they could ever be to us." She looked at him.

"You promised no giant bugs." She said.

"There aliens not bugs, now come on. I need something to drink." He said pulling her to the drinks. He really knew he needed one. Although he remained diplomatic about it taking it and tasting it properly.

"That brings me to another point." The Empress said to him.

"You havent even made ONE yet." Derrick interrupted.

"You dare question the Empress?" She said. Derrick rolled his eyes at her again. "Anyway, my second point is stop looking at the girl with her top missing. Were married now. I gave you fair warning. Before we got married I told you to have fun and sleep with some girls, you missed your chance, you had to be noble and say it was improper."

"Cmon, you are looking at her just as much as I am." Derrick said stopping her before she got to carried away.

"Thats not the point." She said smiling. "Anyway, we are supposed to be diplomatic." Kristina added. She took Derricks drink and started t taste it. He sighed and took another. It would be a fun day. There would be some mingling, some food and of course some good drinks.

Cas took the offered hand with his free gripper and gave it a strong pump. "Cas Mondragoon, Foundation of Terran Tribes. Pleased to make your acquaintance." Cas took a swig from his mug before continuing. "To be honest, only reason I'm drinking as much as I am now is I haven't had any strong drink for almost a year. That, and I'm afraid with all the other beings here there may not be any alcohol left by this evening." Taking in the sights he paused for a few seconds, letting the all the feeling, sights, and sounds flow through him.

"It's nice to be planet side without having to wear a hardsuit. Oh, and in case you're wondering I'm a Homo prodigiums asteroidea, though from where I'm from 'Newt' does just as well."

A little ways down the beach, but not so far as to be completely removed, another small party joins the scene – this one comprised of one not too terribly tall woman, and two small children who are already running in circles, jabbering excitedly while their mother hauls the beach gear and tries to remind them to be careful.

The dark-haired woman wears a simple black suit (http://www2.victoriassecret.com/images/prodpri/V260552.jpg) trimmed with turquoise, two piece but not frightfully indecent as such things go. The little boy wears blue trunks (http://www.cwdkids.com/images/items/18057678.jpg) with a lighter flame design, and the little girl is in a sporty two piece (http://www.cwdkids.com/images/items/19873135.jpg) with pinkish swirls accented in lime. With a warning not to get in the water without her, Nathicana begins setting up the oversized beach umbrella – have to have shade for the little ones after all – and spreading out a large blanket under it, arranging the wheeled cooler to the side with their drinks and snacks. Having already applied the sunscreen, it’s simply a matter of getting out the toys, and seeing what the kids would like to do first.

“Did you see that giant buggy thingy?” Marcus asks in an awestruck voice. “You think it eats people?”

“No dear, I’m sure the Sakkrans wouldn’t have people-eating guests scurrying about. Just stay close all the same, ok? Sometimes when adults get playing they get a little wild. Not the best thing for children to be in the middle of,” his mother replies, glancing over at some of the goings on further down the beach, one brow arching curiously as she opens juice packs for the three of them, taking a sip of hers after the others are passed out.

“Like having sex?” Naiya asks with that innocent yet quietly testing way she has about her sometimes, causing Nathi to nearly choke on her drink, and Marcus to erupt in a fit of giggles over the whole thing.

“What? Why would you—I mean where did—oh for the love, Naiya. No, not … well, maybe, but still. Just stay close, alright? You’re still small enough to accidentally get underfoot, especially when big folks are too busy playing to see you,” Nathi finally sputters, looking both surprised and slightly flustered.

“Well,” Naiya says, clearly thinking some explanation was required. “Some of them don’t seem to be wearing much, and usually when people aren’t wearing much they seem to do things like that, so I wondered.”

Nathicana gives her daughter a flat look. “You’ve figured out the lock code on the movie channel again, haven’t you young lady.”

“Oh yes, she sure did,” Marcus pipes up, gleefully helping bust his sister, who just rolls her eyes and gives him one of those martyred looks.

“That’s it, so help me I am turning off all the damn channels,” Nathi mutters. “I swear, I can’t trust you two to stay out of trouble for more than five minutes.”

Naiya leans over to put an arm around her brother, both of them sensing one of those moments, and so looking up at their mother with their most winning smiles. “But you love us anyway, right?”

Nathi shakes her head, smiling wryly before kneeling down to wrap them both up in a warm hug, kissing each on the cheek. “Yes, I do. Just know your cute factor is all that saves you, and that my dears, won’t last so I’d suggest you shape up, capische? Now lets go play. Last one in the water?”

The kids are already off and running for the surf, giggling madly.

Lord Nefarious was more than a little distracted by the arrival of something. His gaze settled on the sight before him, watching with interested amusement as the new arrivals tried to deal with the sand. He had to give them credit for their entrance. Most people liked to make an entrance, and they most certainly had.

Once the fuss was over, he returned his attention to one of the two women he had spotted earlier. It was pretty obvious that she was headed in his direction, so he took a slight step in her direction then stopped, his smile more genuine than it had been earlier.

“My lady,” Damien greeted as he took the woman’s hand and lifted it slightly, bowing down and appearing to press a kiss. His mouth did not touch her skin, and it was only his breath that made any contact. “Damien, Lord Nefarious of Tartarus at your service,” he introduced himself as he stood erect.

“Although I have nothing against volleyball, I have never been inclined to partake in a game.” He looked briefly over at the game taking place, before returning his attention back to the Baroness. “Perhaps one day.” He smiled and indicated the refreshments. “Would you care for something?”

Lord Nefarious was deeply surprised and impressed. He had not thought to find someone who appeared even more out of place at the beach than himself. It was almost as if he had stepped into some society bash that had unfortunately been partially gate crashed.

If he dismissed some of those present, he noticed that there were still a lot of decent people present. Maybe he would not be so annoyed with the Empress for sending him, after all.

Finlay lay stretched out on a towel - RDS-issue, meaning it was white, with the Ascended Star on it. Meaning it was white. Because some moron had thought that 'white' was the official color of the Ascended Star that served as Revenia's insignia, and not realized that having a white star on a white towel equated to...a white towel.

Ahh, well. If nothing else, it was mildly amusing. Though not half as amusing as watching Trae and Vivie build a scale replica of Citadel Celestian out of sand. Trae had the precision -- and the excessively sharp knife -- to do the cutting, while Vivie told him where to cut.

All entirely too intricate for Finlay's taste. He was, to be truthful, getting a little long in the tooth these days...though you'd be hard pressed to tell. He looked older than Traegan, physically, but not...old...by any means. Mid-thirties. Even that was a choice.

There came a time when one simply started feeling older. Harm Coldfist, for example, looked to be in his early fourties, were he human, and there were others who appeared even older than he did...but it was a choice, more or less. There was no real reason that Finlay appeared older than Traegan -- true, he was older than Traegan, but there were no physical side-effects to aging for those of Ascended blood.

Of course, there was no real reason that, maybe a foot from where he lay stretched out, two sheathed Guardian Temple-pattern Warblades were shoved tip-down into the sand, either. Except that individuals such as Finlay and Traegan didn't leave the house without their swords. Ever.

It was simply the way it was.

Finlay reached over and picked up his glass of fortified wine -- they'd brought their own booze, largely out of habit. One got used to bringing one's consumables along, and it became second nature. It was right up there with 'prefers to stand' and 'doesn't part with sword' on the ol' list of Revenian Truisms.

After shaking the ‘Newt’s’ hand, Bruce retrieved the offered juice, and takes a long swing. “Nice to meet you, Cas. You’ve had to wear hardsuits when you’ve visited planets? Explorer? Or Military?” he wondered aloud. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be on the edge of known space.” He smiled slowly. “As for the booze, I think the Sakkran Diplomatic Corps is throwing this, and as an experienced diplomat, I’ve never been to a party thrown by diplomats that’s run out of alcohol.”

Kraah relaxes fully in his chair, managing to procure himself some form of a tall milky white drink, quite frothy at the top, adorned with a variety of cocktail umbrellas and with an extra-long crazy straw in it. He sips slowly for a second and continues on. "Mmmm...delish. So as I was saying before, Serrah (The equivalent of saying 'Lady' for those not in the know)Kairis, i'm interested in knowing how your diplomatic attempts are going. I know well how you, and frankly the majority of the known civilizations, treat Allanea. My son sees some sort of potential in them, but I don't know what it is. But he's allowed the DiploCorps to have an embassy there somewhere in one of the few pieces of green property they have, and he's allowed staff to reform their military command staff and procedures. Lord knows how he thinks, but it's his business though I did press him to add some provisos to the agreement."

Kraah takes a long, hearty sip this time. and lets out a long sigh. "You try to raise them right; to be smart and wise and just. And then you let them go, and see what happens. I hope it doesn't turn around and bite him in the ass, 'cause if it does i'll thwamp him back into the Black Swamp to try at life a second time."

It was an exercise in visibility and relaxation, but nonetheless Ranisath wasn’t all that keen. It didn’t show, of course, he seemed to be cheerful and happy as he was accompanied by his wife, two queens, and sundry other women, onto the beach. The queens were Kestrel Amea, one of his most long standing lovers and friends, titular queen of United Indiastan, and Alaitaire Leuthilspar, the (married no less) wife of the king of one of the (relative, as all things were) nearby elf nation of Giltheran, though she was a distinctly different race from his own wife.

His wife, was of course, resplendent as usual, though a little simply dressed in a gauzy translucent white silk robe set with silver clasps, both on the robe, and the simple garb that consisted of a bikini-esque outfit and a mesh of straps around her body, that could just be discerned through the robe if one tried. Her shoes were low sandals, too, showing off immaculate feet.

Ranisath was more heavily dressed, in a deep purple robe, and with a silver crown that matched the one worn by his wife, though he did not seem at all concerned by the sunlight, for indeed, his definition of sun-bathing was rather different from most other people’s.

Ranisath tossed a device onto the sand before him and then sat back as the sand, flickering a light green rose up in the form of a solid platform, thrones, table, and so on, held by some obscure field that would last until someone actually took a hammer to it, even through high tides, and even after the device that created the sand sculpting field was removed by Ranisath as he sat.

The sand was of course warm, and Sirithil sat beside him, surrounded by various minions and flunkies and guards, totalling about ten in all.

Oh, and they’d brought a pair of oversized fans made of expensively bought great eagle-feathers.

Bits of glass clays sparkled and dropped into the ocean where they splashed and sparkled as they dropped into the depths. Fidelo lowered his sporting piece, dropped the breach, and ejected the shells into an empty tin bucket where they bounced around. Another pair from a full bucket dropped into the twin chambers before Fidelo closed the breach again with a click. Smoothly shouldering the weapon he visually checked to make sure the range was clear.

"Pull!"

Two clays, one red, one black, thumped from the launcher and spun across the open sky. Fidelo let them reach a medium range for the antique weapon before shattering both with two quick trigger pulls. Again the shells dropped into the bucket and he placed the weapon into a shackle on the launcher. The launcher, a heavy, industrial looking system worthy of the Karma Corp. logo stamped on the side, growled a bit as it's auger loaded more sand.

"Katryna, beer me!" Fidelo turned and snatched the can spiralling towards his head and cracked it open. Grinning he took a quick slurp and dropped onto one of several beach towels that sat near the launcher. The small party and their gear were on the tip of a small spit of sand where the weapons fire wouldn't disturb others. This didn't stop them from watching the ongoing action through binoculars and various forms of vision magnification.

Katryna was, despite the presence of her current boyfriend, paying close attention to all the hard bodies on display. Sergeant Goez, the boyfriend, was digging a lawnchair out of the sand though it was turning into more of a sand pit as the sides kept caving in.

"When I was a kid..." he began as handfuls of sand sprayed onto a small but growing hill behind him, "We would go to the beach and build two sand castles about a hundred feet apart. Then we would load up our socks with sand and chuck them at the other castle til one was levelled. Or beer cans and bottles filled with sand. Sticks and shells would be important points, towers and such."

"So with the amount of augementation running around here we should see if someone on the other side of the island wants to play that game?" Katryna smiled and turned to look at the two otterkin playing in the surf. She had promised them some time off-station and this had been the first opportunity. The two pups were bouncing a beach ball back and forth between them with nose and tail as they bounced through the waves. "If you can find us some competition I'm sure they," She nodded at the otterkin, "Could be persuaded to help build a castle."

"Well thats good to hear." And he meant it as he polished off his second mug. Lord, if I keep this up I'll be too drunk to dive. But damn this stuff is good.

"As for you question, first one, then the other. Currently I'm serving in the Foundation's Pathfinder and Exploration Corps. Not really as exciting as it sounds, you spend most of your time in the scout ship with the rest of your squad just waiting. Nine out of 10 times when you finally do get a chance to go planet side you go in wearing a hardsuit to preserve the natural order of things and to protect yourself. It's once in blue moon that you find something truly exciting."

"Lets go swimming." Kristina said suddenly. The cystal clear water had inally done its work on her.

"Swimming." Derrick repeated. "Have you even seen me try and swim?" He asked.

"Actually, no." She answered. "But Sam told me about those times back in the little lack in your backya-"

"I dont think these people want to hear about my teen sex life." Derrick whispered so that noone could hear. Kristina may be his wife, his Empress, and his friend for the past 5 years but she needed to learn about politics.

"Relax. No one can hear us anyways." She said waving he rhadn at him dissmissivly. "I ORDER you to swim with me." She said smiling. Derrick sighed in defeat.

"As you wish." He said. "I was always more of a castle person.'' He said truthfully. He had lived on a lake for the whole 18 years of his life and swam all summer, but Kristina didnt know that. They headed down to the water together and Derrick saw the various species designing castles and wanted to make one. "I feel like a kid again."

"What?'' The Empress asked him.

"Nothing." He lied running into the clear water. Once he was in deep enough he dove underneath. Kristina came in slower. She had not been genetically manipulated as a child so her body was less imune to enviromental effects. Derrick came up to Kristina and threw her over his shoulder carrying her deeper. "You take to long." Derrick explained.

Élisabeth bit back a smile of recognition as the stranger politely introduced himself. Nefarious! The noblewoman was familiar with the name, as she was with the reputation attached to it. She knew, for instance, that Damien was a cousin of Empress Gehenna’s, and next in line for the imperial throne. Suddenly this gathering of insipid bourgeois no longer seemed quite so unbearable to her, and a flash of restrained animation played briefly across the lady’s glistening blue eyes. Élisabeth looked at the Heir of Tartarus with renewed interest, her expression of resigned boredom abating.

Perhaps this might be an opportunity to have some fun.

He’s rather more charming than I imagined, mused Élisabeth, as with a gloved hand she brushed back a wayward ringlet of flaxen hair. And with quite the winning smile, it seems.

Élisabeth barely heard Lord Nefarious’ response to her initial question, despite listening with curiosity to his every word. Damien certainly seemed more interesting than any other guest present at the party, although why exactly the noblewoman was not quite sure. Élisabeth become attentive again as he made his rather gentlemanly offer.

‘I’m afraid, Lord Nefarious, that I’ve never been particularly enamoured of lagers and stouts,’ sniffed Élisabeth in reply, having observed that these were what most guests seemed to be drinking.

‘Something less bitter would be splendid, though. A sweet vermouth, perhaps, or maybe a nice port... though I suppose I daren’t hope for either,’ the society lady murmured languidly, blinking her long curved lashes as she looked dubiously at the refreshments.

Illaan's encampment, of course, by now, sported a quite visible array of drinks, and the one harem-man in the white shorts appeared tenured as the bartender.

Of course, they had a variety of Kajali liquors, and it's not all that much fun to just sit on the beach drinking by yourself, now is it...

"Mmm.. I hope it's not too much trouble to bother you for one of the same..."

If it was possible, she might have just gotten bustier. But then, she told herself, she was good at this, and that she hadn't a stable relationship in the last twenty years was surely related to her job and not her personality.

Surely!

Meanwhile, Sera looked at the three harem-men, perhaps longer than would normally be usual. "Watch the camp, boys. I'm going for a little stroll..."

She, of course, meandered her way over to the Menelmacari encampment.

Kairis nodded. "The core of Allanean philosophy is that nations which do not share their political ideology and institutions are by nature illegitimate and that, if it is not quite a duty, it is nonetheless morally and legally acceptable or even laudable for them to employ military methods to force their social system on other nations. They aren't always simple about it and periodically they go through periods of reform, only to revert to the same behavior in the course of time."

She shook her head slightly. "Nonetheless, that in and of itself is not the reason that we cannot maintain diplomatic relations with them. As I said before, we maintain normal relations with many nations, some of whom we find in some ways objectionable and some of whom we consider to be hostile powers. The reason diplomatic relations with Allanea are impossible is the position adopted by the Allaneans after Finara was plagued with terrorist violence. Not only did Allanea declare support for the terrorists and recognize them as the legitimate government of Deasrargle (a duchy in Finara) but it also withdrew its recognition of Finara's sovereignty and graphically advocated all sorts of massive war crimes against the Finaran people. The pretext for doing so was so stretched as to simply be non-sensical and the underlying message was simply one of hostility to the rest of the world at every opportunity and of irrational war-mongering. The violence was brought to a close and all of the Allanean 'volunteers' either arrested by the Finarans or killed by their own terrorist 'allies' after a dispute arose. However, the Allaneans never retracted the declaration and Finara is now a part of the Confederated Peoples. In a dual-sovereignty federal system like ours, denying recognition to a Member is, if not quite a denial of the nation's sovereignty, still something much more significant than a simple border dispute and something which we believe renders diplomatic relations impossible unless the declaration be retracted."

Kraah nodded as he sipped, listening to Minerva's explanation of their standing on the diplomatic sphere with Allanea. "I see. That's about 180 degrees from our standing here. For the most part, we don't really go nosing into other nations affairs unless it somehow affects us, either through alliances made or otherwise. I wonder why Gorrm would allow some manner of contact with them? Maybe he sees some reasoning behind their wierdness? I know from experience the Allaneans are, or at least were, insane but prideful. It'd be raining bullion before a retraction is given. Regardless, Gorrm's always thought in the long term at the expense of immediate concerns. 's why I stay on as advisor to keep his feet rooted in the present when it needs to be done. But I can certainly understand why they are looked at as they are by the interstellar community." He sipped again, emptying his mug, and calls Ehrron to give him a refill.

As he waits, his head turns towards the ocean in front of him, one eye looking at the Viscountess. "Another question I have, to breach onto a different subject. I've been trying to bone up on the various specie that live with your territories. Quite an interesting mix of peoples, especially the ones referred to as 'Trolls'. Seems some scouts from Zzou are considering opening up the Jugg Matches to other countries with them in mind. Could you fill me in on a little background on them? And while i'n at it...." He points at Minerva's drink. "Would you and your mate like a refresher?"

Joel, in the meantime, decided it was time to show what all those years of studying Chemical Mixology were for. Or at least, how it could apply to the scene before him. A handful of mint leaves were given to Ehrron, who wielded a small knife and showed some manner of skill in dicing the leaves up into a fine mush. While this was going on, Joel mixed together a pitcher full of cane sugar (unbleached, of course), 1 part lime juice to 4 parts white rum, a generous helping of coconut water (in place of soda water), and heaped two handfuls of crushed ice into it. He then took the pulped mint leaves and added it in, mixing it all together until it got a very pale green palor to it.

Some of this was poured into two highball glasses, and a bit of creme de coco was rubbed along the rim with a cotton swab. "Here you go. Specialty of the Sclessinger clan." He took a sip of his as he handed it over. He looked at the green girl on the sand, and seemed to be puzzled. "Not to pry, but are you of age for your species to have a drink?"

Jalthier was relaxed, very relaxed, as he lay out in the sun, being slowly, massaged by one of his little entourage, while another fed him various fruits, both from Earth and from further a field. It was rare for the Kionash to experience such things as a Beach party, simply as; taking advantage of the Sun on a Craftworld seemed rather pointless. You didn’t get beautiful days such as this; while most of the experience could be replicated there is an indefinable realness to this day. The weather is not perfect occasionally a cloud drifts n front of the sun for a moment and it gets cooler, somehow it is the imperfections that make it, so appealing.

He had arrived with five companions and while the two with him continued to massage him the other three where taking the chance to have a look around. Beach skirts swishing as they walked, and blowing gently in the wind, the upper half of their bodies where covered in a fabric so finely woven as to be practically none-existent, and stayed just on the right side of decency. As they passed the various other attendees they whispered to each other. There was some strange tree girl practically assaulting another person, elsewhere the unmistakable presence of the Yngir Ranisath. Amongst all these guests could be seen a Mother and her two children, which stood out amongst the other, more sexually charged individuals, all in all, it was pleasant.

Up in the air, three forms are visible gliding on the thermals rising off the warm sand and rock of the beach. Two are vaguely humanoid in shape, one with pale blue wings and gliding with the apparent ease of lots of practice; the other a brilliant brassy-red, wingbeats and long glides still clearly showing inexperience. The third form could almost be mistaken for a hawk or seabird but for it's long tail and clearly blue coloring. They are, in fact, a trio from the Arpean Thaumatology Institute on some long, LONG overdue vacation time. Luceh, youngest of the Keepers; Kiara Alson, the most recent addition to that group, and her partner Tsunami, a Drakos model reploid dragon.

Are you sure this is safe? Kiara telepathically asks her blue-scaled companion, since the wind makes shouting impractical.

Perfectly safe! Comes the reply as Luceh tilts her wings slightly to spiral even higher on a thermal. My brother and I would do this sort of thing all the time in the summer!

Tsunami shoots upward past Kiara, the tiny mechanoid's lighter weight enabling her to rise faster on the warm air, and leaving Kiara struggling to catch up.

Luceh is the first to the top of the thermal, where she crows with delight and performs a quick wingover that sends her plummeting toward the water headfirst, with just enough wing extended to control her decent slightly. From the beach, she probably resembles some oddly shaped seabird diving, though she snaps her wings open before she actually hits the water and trades speed for some height before she dives a second time at a saner rater of speed.

Tsunami, being made of metal and not all that concerned about high-speed aquatic impacts spirals out of the thermal next and simply plunges face-first toward the water below; a deep blue arrow. With her wings clasped close against her sides, she barely raises a splash when she slides into the water.

Which leaves Kiara alone in the air. Swallowing hard, she tries to mimic Luceh's wingover and starts into a clumsy dive, shouting all the way. Unlike the more experienced flyers though, she pulls out of her dive a little too soon and ends up stalling herself too near the beach. With a yelp, Kiara ends up skidding to a thoroughly embarassing landing in the sand, a comedic tangle of brassy-red wings, legs, tail, and carefully designed black bikini. Out in the water, Luceh bobs with the waves, laughing at the newbie.

And on the beach, a lone figure that at first casual glance appears human sips at a cocktail, blue eyes sweeping the beach over dark sunglasses. The fellow seems to be well-toned, almost impossibly so; and very well endowed if the scrap of red fabric that could possibly be a speedo is any indication.

"Definitely a good choice for my vacation. Surprised that DipCorps actually let me out." One hand sweeps through well-kept short black hair, a stray lock falling to hang just so over one eye. "Can't complain about the scenery!"

It's hard to say what those blue eyes are appreciating at the moment. Rather disconcertingly so, since the fellow's gaze seems to be lingering rather equally on anyone and anything in sight.

Close to where the reploids fly and Nathicana splashes with her children, a two men and a boy arrive. Tarvi and the boy, Ivan, are wearing matching swim trunks (blue and tastefully decorated with penguins) and sport decent tans. Gregor also wears the same shorts (not by choice) as well as a loose penguin T-shirt which covers up his pale chest and back. Every exposed surface of skin glistens with sunblock. Not that it will help.

Gregor scans the area. "You two go have a swim. I'll set up here," he says, gesturing towards Nathi's umbrella, "and mingle a bit."

"Come on in with us, Gregor," Tarvi says with a grin.

"This stuff will wash off."

"No, it won't, you pansy." Tarvi chuckles. "You've got every sunscreen known to man on you and it's all waterpr- is that Skyraider over there?"

"What?" Gregor turns to stare at where Tarvi is looking and his eyes narrow. "Yes. Tarvi, it's up to you to make sure Ivan doesn't see anything that a five-year-old shouldn't."

"I'm five and a half."

Gregor grins despite himself. "Yes. Yes, you are." He looks out at the surf and frowns. "You've got the-"

"Yes."

"And the emergency-"

"Yes!"

"But what about-"

"Shut up. He's not going to drown." Tarvi leaned over and kissed Gregor. "Go mingle."

"Ewwwww."

"Come on, kiddo. Let's go get wet while your dad talks with boring people." The two of them raced out towards the water, while Gregor eventually shrugged, laid out a couple of towels, and wandered off to find someone.

Dashing from wave to wave the otterkin pups frolicked further and further away from their chaperones. The beach held many interesting sights and smells and the beach ball drifted forgotten on the waves as they roamed the coast looking over each group in turn. The surfbathing Sakkrans they left alone after a quick closer look reminded them of a particularly mean predator from their homeworld though they did sneak a little from an unattended drink.

"Who's that?"

"In the purple robe? He looked special. And uncomfortable."

"He does have a lot of females clustered around him. Perhaps he is some kind of sacred breeder."

The otterkin, coming from a matriarchal civilization, could be forgiven their ignorace though perhaps not the indulgence of their curiousity. Sliding over the sand they dashed straight up to the throne, winding their way through roaming legs and lunging over prone sunbathers. Rising up on their hind legs they smelled at Ranisath with whiskers twitching.

"Hello!" "Hi!" "Who are you?" "You look important!" "Is he yours?" This last was directed at Sirithil. This was accompanied by electronic 'chatter' as they tried to probe for a cyber profile via their commlinks. "Nice fans!" "Did you hunt those yourself?" "You must be very brave!" "You don't have any wings!" "How did you catch them?"

----

"Jacuzzi blanket. Just a little something I whipped up on the 'Nile. Internal membrane to keep the water in, powered flagella in the weave to create 'jets', micropumps for a bubbler, and a heating unit."

Goez rolled his eyes as he flipped the blanket out and spread it in his sand pit. "Engineers... You could have added an easier way to fill it too."

"Good idea!" Katryna sat up and looked over at the skeet machine and it's plentiful parts supply.

"No." Fidelo didn't even need to look up from his book to know what she was looking at. "Use a bucket Goez. Once this beer is done I'm gonna want to use that again. Speaking of beer..." He stood and began walking towards the center of the island. "Gotta be a restroom around here somewhere. Don't let her touch it Sergeant. Not even one finger."

When one's on a first-name basis with national leadership, one finds out about these things. When one's decently ambitious to boot, one will make the effort to arrive. When one's concerned about someone else, one'll bring him along either out of a sense of his own good and, well, with everything he's been brooding on, it'd be good to drag him out of the apartment and into the actual sun and fresh air and stuff. To his credit, he only resisted half-heartedly. "Look, Nathi's going, and it's in Sakkra. Haven't been there in a while, have you?"

"No... no." Idle shrug. "And I'm sure security is going to be absolutely absurd. How would they let mooks like us in?"

"It's a diplomatic function, and I am a Diplomatic Officer with ambassadorial credentials. Sure, they're not fully binding quite yet until my self-set journeyman path is done, but it'll do. And Nathi will vouch for us, of course."

Sigh. "Okay, fine. I'll start loading up Lightning Bug."

"I was thinking about bringing G'reer-Captain along too. Courtesy to a friend and all."

"Buh..." Confusion and ruffling in one neat, easy package. "Whatever for?"

"He gets out less than you do. It'll be good for him. By the Fanged God, his life's either spent on one of those submarines or inside an equally hermetically sealed barracks learning more about submarines. Being stationed here in the Dominion, that's positively a crime." Impish look about the eyes. "Don't worry, I won't let my eyes linger any more than usual."

"You're an evil person who should be brought to account for your evil."

"That sounds like fun."

"Not now. Let's go have diplomatic fun on a beach." Bondayehr sighs. "I hate being dragged to diplomatic functions, although it was rather amusing when Kraah grabbed that chicken and..."

* - * - *

That Kraah seems to be running this shindig brings a smile to Lieutenant Colonel Timofeyev Bondayehr's face, without showing the least bit of wryness to it. Of course, with the clothing optional rule, and Kraah's legendary hedonism, what he's seeing should come as no surprise. He has the typical spacer's tan--or lack of one--but burning's not that big a concern, as he has been through worse and even intermittent life in the Dominion's adapted him to it. He's never been able to keep track of a set of civilian swim trunks that fit for over a single season, and so he makes do with AeroSpace Directorate-issued swim trunks, green with a broad white SASD label on the right leg. The rest is all pockets, carrying all sorts of neutrally buoyant survival gear... bad habit, one could say. Shorty, a good head and shoulders taller, doesn't actually own any civilian swimwear because, well, she's a Scolopendran and walking about in the buff. She operated under the false assumption this was really a diplomatic event whilst packing, though, and so is in a blue DiploCorps flapped bikini (issued only to kzinti, as a one-piece would have the bad habit to chafe and knot fur over the entire body). G'reer-Captain is head-and-shoulders taller than her, being your usual massive 'tosh, and rather than not having anything civilian, is just a martinet of sorts and so mirrors Bondayehr's attire, except in Mobile Infantry reds with a white SMISC label.

All carry duffel bags of one sort or another, and they set up from there. Towels, salted ice-chest (carried by G'reer), umbrellas, the usual beach gear, all set up with the usual stereotypical Scolopendran efficiency. They're not here to put down towels, after all, and once that's done, they can get to what they actually want to do. Shorty spots a conversation, can smell diplomacy from a kilometer away, and trots silently in the sand towards the Xirnium/Resurgent Dream party, eager to listen in and make a good impression for the Segments and all that.

Bondayehr sighs, sits on a towel, looks over, sees some kids he recognizes, and realizes that there's no avoiding it. Getting back with more effort than a thirty-year old has any right to feign, he sticks his hands into the front pockets of his swim trunks and wanders over towards the Nathi encampment.

G'reer-Captain looks around, and despite his Scolopendran background, momentarily boggles at just what people are[n't] wearing. It's a lot different watching things in the here and now rather than a good kilometer or two off the coast, just scanning the beaches through binoculars. Still, he's a Hero's life to live up to, and so does his best to look nonchalant. Following Timofeyev doesn't hurt that way.

* - * - *

Meanwhile, in a completely unrelated development, Speaker-Rrit and his consort H'zta set up camp not too far from Kraah's little pavillion. It's been a while since they've gotten to talk to their old lecherous lizard friend in anything other than a professional bent, and now is the time to catch up, reminisce, have a few beers, and generally enjoy themselves. Knowing that the security situation around the beach consists of positively absurd layers of observation and protection, they've got nothing to worry about themselves. And, H'zta thinks, flicking her ears at her business associate, if there's any business that H+K Enterprises can get down to, so much the better.

Neither one is really dressed beyond the loincloth stage; it's hot, they're Scolopendran, and the only reason they're not going fully clothing-optional is for hygiene reasons. It's also traditional 'zinwear, especially H'zta's apron. Covers the front, the back... not so much.

Sava stumbles around for a while, still occasionally coughing out saltwater, before he finds Kharia still gawking at the three harem-men. He cleared his throat once more, “You know you’re not going to be able to have fun with them.”

She shot a look at him, and sighed. “This beach is boring. It lacks something." Her face took on a wild look, glancing at the sky with a finger to her lips almost childishly pondering.

He raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t thinking of an or--“

A quick slap to his face brought out his protest. Vigorously shaking her head, she quickly addressed him, “Green-minded idiot. I meant music. Beach music.” With that, she thumbed on her neck for something that couldn’t be seen, and let it stay there for a while. Her voice amplification/modification unit had some other purposes, mainly to play minus ones for when she decides to sing, which she was about to do. “You know this one, don’t you? Sing with me!”

Sava just stared at her. Percussion, he didn't know the name of the drum but knew the sound. He knew this song from the instrumental alone, it was unmistakable. “Are you kidding? How many Beach Boys tracks do you have in there?”

“Enough to last,” she said, smiling. "And that's not the only tracks I have."

”Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I wanna take ya,
Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama” He started out, as the music cued, pulling up a holographic guitar from the image banks in his cybermind. Of course, he never actually knew how to play the guitar, but that never stopped him from doing a nice air guitar impression.

“Key Largo, Montego,
baby why don't we go,
Jamaica~" She replied, slowly getting up to pace in dancing. Her hips swaying smoothly, almost fluidly to the tempo of the music.

Then, they sang together, "Off the Florida Keys
there's a place called Kokomo“

They would sing and dance on, and on. Kharia had dozens of tracks in her databanks, and this was going to be a long day anyway.

"That's where you wanna go,
to get away from it all.
Bodies in the sand,
tropical drink melting in your hand.
We'll be falling in love,
to the rhythm of a steel drum band,
Down in Kokomo--"

Kairis, who was actually with Kraah rather than with the Xirniumites at the moment, nodded to the Sakkrans words. "I do hope that good comes from His Majesty's endeavors with the Allaneans, although, I must admit that I do not expect much from that quarter. Even in the worst case, though, I doubt there is any danger in it. To use an old human saying, the Allaneans' bark is much worse than their bite. Little or nothing has come from most of their attempts at violence, at least those that we have observed. If I might ask, though, how did you initially form alliances with a policy of generally keeping to yourselves? It certainly seems that your foreign policy has worked out rather well for you thus far."

"I'd love something to drink." she said.

"So would I." said Kostas, who had thus far been relatively quiet.

Kairis smiled at him briefly before answering the question. "Trolls are a kind of Fae originating in the northern parts of the world. Like all other Fae, they traveled to the Dreaming in the Iron Age, returned to the Waking World in the Resurgent Dream during the Homecoming War and most of them returned to the Dreaming during the Shattering although a fair number remain. They are a warrior culture and extremely honorable for any Troll who is forsworn loses his or her strength until she should regain her honor. They possess physical strength substantially in excess of that possessed by humans, although there is some overlap. The strongest humans are stronger than the weakest trolls. They are also a lot harder to hurt than humans. They can absorb more force without being harmed and they can take more harm without being incapacitated. They're blue. They range in height from six to nine feet. They are, mysteriously enough, capable of producing fertile offspring with humans or with any other race of Fae. However, the offspring will belong entirely to the race of one parent or the other. This does, of course, violate every known law of genetics and, like much with the Fae, we can only shrug and say that science doesn't completely explain them. Can you think of anything to add, Kostas?"

"They also, like other Fae, can command the forces of Draocht although they could choose not to use it if it were banned from the matches. They are some of the bravest and most formidable warriors I have ever served with." he said. "Perhaps you might tell us more of these Jugg matches?"

Kraah takes a moment as he turns the variety of questions around in his head, and also ponders the answer to his question about the Trolls. "Well, firstly, our criteria for forming an alliance, while keeping to ourselves to a degree, is based on mutual benefit and the degree to which that would exist. For instance a nation rich in resource but poor in military power would not be accepted. Nor vice-versa. We would more than likely have to continuously 'pull their fat out of the fire' so to speak, or drain our treasury to support their military, and that's just a pain to deal with. Nations looking for protection, or with high unemployment, or in essence a target for becoming dependent on us in an inconvenient way are usually cast aside."

Kraah hands Kairis and Kostas their drinks as they're handed to him. And perks up his head at the sound of steel drums a short distance off. "Seems someone has decided to supply us with music. It's all well and good.." He leans back again in his chair, one arm tucked behind his head. "Basically, the unofficial motto is 'If you can't stand on your own, don't expect us to be your crutch.' We've seen many rogue nations out there make a lot of noise and expect someone else to bail them out when it bites them in the ass. We'll avoid that if we can."

He turns his eye and looks at the pair. "That's not to say we won't help if trouble comes knocking. It's just a matter of being allies with people who don't need to have their hands held. We're nobody's parents after all. And we're definitely not the interstellar police."

He then reaches into his pack, pulls up a chit with a small crystal in it and examines it. "As for the Jugg Matches, this universal datachit (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Sakkra#Sport) should explain it. It also has some footage of previous matches. Most would say it's a terrible and barbaric sport, akin to the gladiatorial matches of old, but we don't see it that way. We're hunters and warriors by nature, and the people have a need to express it. Better than rattling sabres and such I think."

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

Meanwhile, about 1 kilometer away from the beach proper, and several fathoms below sea-level, a pair of Ranger Corsaire (http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/weaponry/corsaireviews.jpg)-class cruisers are submerged, keeping an eye on the guests at the beach and coordinating with the numerous other security groups on the ground, in the water and in orbit. "Guanarr be damned. Do I have to sit around watching old Leatherback everytime he throws a party?"

The avatar of the Wheeland, a leopard gecko (http://www.kingsnake.com/saherpsociety/leopardgecko.jpg), looks at the Sub-Commander while licking his other eye with his tongue. "Well, you know how it is. Numerous dignitaries and royalty from numerous nations are here. Anything happens and it's an interstellar incident with us at the center, so it's vital we be here on top of all the other...."

Sshrakka puts up a hand in a 'stifle it' motion. "I know, I know. Blah blah interstellar war blah blah vital importance. Just watching all these people playing makes me itch for some leave. Maybe i'd like to have some basking time, too!"

The avatar closes both its eyes and lays its head down on the sensor console. "So basically, you're jealous? Such a mammallian emotion." Sshrakka's hand comes down on the avatar in a slap, and passes right through it. "Damn it! Rrrrr.....ok, breathe in, breathe out. Count down and relax...." She makes te motions of regaining composure, and settles down. The avatar looks up with one eye while the head remains at rest. "Ah, the famous Sakkran female temper. Maybe you'd be better suited to the Armor Cavalry? You can always retire as a Ranger and apply."

Sshrakka shakes her head. "No, thanks. I'm fine. Just getting a bit weary of swimming around in your body for months at a stretch. Hmmm?" Her visual sensors pick up a Scolopendran party at the beach, heading towards the Dominion grouping. "Well, i'll be. If it isn't Tim. I heard he got hooked up...I wonder if the K'zin with him is that person? And is he going grey a bit?"

(Well, hell, that's what I get for reading carefully)

Make it the Xirniumites, then. Shorty read about the flap over Europa, and the, ah, trouble concerning Machiavelli. Given that Machiavelli Station is a Dominioner asset, and, well, she works in the Dominion, may not hurt to go see what they're like. All the same, she moves far more quickly and silently in the sand than she has any right to--felinid and all--and slows to a stop a discreet distance away, making quiet salutations in the form of the usual short Scolopendran bow. Other than that, she'll enter the conversation when invited; wouldn't do to barge in right now.

Meanwhile, yes, Timofeyev is going quite grey in a sort of Reed Richards below-the-earline sort of way, and pretty much obvious to a particular someone doing periscope surveillance, given how he's walking parallel to the shore. Plenty of hair, just two-toned, with the lower being practically silver. Stress will do that to a man. He seems to be talking idly with the huge kzintosh (certainly not his 'partner') walking next to him.

"One of the Gyrinidae squadrons ported in Menelmacar are out there, doing coastal defense," G'reer-Captain says with professional enthusiasm. We're just a bit out of the operational range of ERSURFMEDCOM and so that's why I'm here on this beach instead of on the bridge."

"Mhmm." Bondayehr mutters without quite grumping. Surely I'm never this bad. "And nothing to do with Shorty pulling you out for your health, no?"

"Hrrr... that too. Still, I hear that our Weyrian yards are working on a larger platform, more like the original concept except less speed and more weaponry. Probably some STO capital missiles as well."

Timofeyev glances over at the 'tosh. One would swear the big rat-cat were marching, if its strides weren't anywhere in regulation. Eyes caged forward. "Hey, squidboy, loosen the hell up. Do you always talk about boats when you're on the beach?"

"Hrr. Do you always look more or less at the sand ten meters away when you do?" Despite it being a snipe back, it still sounds a touch too respectful. It's something Bondayehr's gotten used to, no matter how much he's tried over the past three weeks to break G'reer of the habit.

"Generally, yes."

Nathi waves to the newcomers she recognizes, Gregor and Tarvi, Bondayher’s group, even grinning as she catches sight of Fidelo. Still looking good, that man – damn his hide. Keepers on the wind is a new sight, and an impressive one at that. Almost as impressive as the decidedly large ‘tosh accompanying her oftimes conflicted friend.

The kids of course are thrilled at both the prospect of having another kid around their age to play with, though the arrival of ‘Zio Timo’ and the big fuzzy targ…er…’tosh with him presents a multitude of opportunities for fun. After a quick discussion between them, they run off towards Ivan and Tarvi, laughing and already chattering excitedly.

“Wanna come play? We’ve got some toys,” says Marcus.

“And the water is fun,” pipes up Naiya.

“And you gotta come see Zio Timo – he is SO the best—“

“—Yeah, he’s like Magnus Hesche, only for reals—“

“—And you see that HUGE ‘tosh with him?”

“—Zia Shorty showed us how to POUNCE!”

“So we SO have to go try. Come on!”

“It’ll be fun!” Both kids beam at Ivan, having a hard time standing still, though they both offer a belated ‘hi’ and more grins at Tarvi as well, too excited to worry overmuch about manners and such in such a relaxed atmosphere, though it belatedly occurs to them the power adults tend to hold over little lives.

"Please, can he? Please?" they begin to beg, on the offhand chance Tarvi might put the nix on the whole business, both looking up pleadingly, shifting from one foot to the other now and then as if their feet are ready to run off without the rest of them.

It wasn't as though other things on the beach hadn’t caught their attention, like the otterkin frolicking about, though they had no idea what they were – they looked new and interesting, which meant ‘fun’. And all the different sorts of people that were showing up, and their gear, and the magic stuff the elves seemed to have, and the fact that the Sakkrans were just so cool, being huge lizardy folk and tended to have interesting things around, Zia Shorty, Speaker, and H’zta would of course have to be stalked and pounced and duly hugged – all would have to be explored at the first possible opportunity. Which of course involved getting mom distracted enough so they could try and sneak off. The arrival of more friends, they saw as a godsend towards these plans.

Meanwhile, Nathi walks up out of the surf squeezing some excess water from her long braid, smiling warmly albeit close-lipped, as has become habit. “Glad you could make it, Tim,” she says, offering a chaste hug and a brief kiss on each cheek generally reserved for more familiar greetings amongst traditional Dominioners. “I see Shorty’s already off and running, making connections. She really is good at what she does.” As she steps back her eyes slide over to G’reer-Captain, one brow arching slightly in a curious expression.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” she says, extending her hand, still smiling pleasantly.

Must be a name to go with all those rippling pectorals. Il dio, they do grow them big up there.

“I might not be able to find a vermouth or port,” Lord Nefarious said, talking a moment to check out the refreshments. “But I shall endeavour to find you something that is neither lager nor stout, yet palatable.”

With his attention removed from his companion, Damien took a moment to survey the beach party, and was surprised to see so many newcomers. Considering how few appeared to be present to begin with, the beach was now becoming full of action. As he looked at those around him, he could barely recognise anyone that he had met before.

“If you are up for the challenge, my lady?” He gave her another smile, as his gaze once more found her face. His blue eyes held hers, as he offered Élisabeth his arm.

Cas finished polishing off his third mug, or was it forth? Awe hell, if I can't remember I must getting too close to too much. His conversation with the norm named Bruce was winding down, and the sun was begging to be felt. Not that the head bothered him, his kind was used to working in near freezing depths as well as near boiling under water hot springs. No, the heat was no bother, but the effects of the sun on his almost bleached white skin would not be pretty. Some liked the crazy patterns the sun left in their skin, but not Cas.

"Well kind sir, it's been a pleasure, but this star's glow if beginning to be a bother. I must excuse my self and go take a dip, perhaps we can continue at a latter time." With a slight nod he set his mug down on the table and began to make his way towards the water. Damnit, maybe I did hit the booze to fast. Either that or the ground here is mighty shifty. I was a good thing so few here were unfamiliar with his kind, as few could spot the extra slink in his step and tell the difference between his normal stride.

Yes, a nice dive will clear my head right up. If I can make it to the surf. His progress had been without incident so far but having to maneuver around the scandalously under-dressed, the oddly overdressed, and the acceptably proper-dressed was compounded by having to dodge the various games and activities as well as avoiding stepping on the younglings scurrying about.

Timofeyev naturally returns the gesture to Nathi, what with years of experience and the closeness of a friend. This is good, because it gives G'reer-Captain time to notice that his 'mouth ajar' warning light is on in his brain and to quickly shut his trap before anyone notices him gawking. 'Pleasing-to-look-at-woman-emerging-from-the-water' has been a cliche in mild titillation since perhaps the dawn of recorded culture; it certainly got abused back in the era of the silver screen, as no regulator in their right mind could claim that something as simple as a woman leaving the water is lascivious, without looking either horribly prudish or trying to hide something themselves. Never mind that wet clothing, no matter how thin, tends to stick to things and thus not hide them quite so well, and leave even less to the imagination; it's not like the Dread Lady is wearing anything rubberized or equivalent to a boat sail or a bathing dress, so...

Bondayehr smiles wryly. "Regulation mandatory spontaneous fun time, orders of the DiploCorps through their latest scion," he replies genially enough, canting his head just a touch at Shorty. He hasn't aged quite enough for his complexion to change, so he still looks boyishly young, but from a distance he probably looks like more of a gray hare than his elder. "Yes, she really is. She'll probably have a half-name by the end of the year if she keeps this up."

Then it's the kzintosh's turn. The step back, the offered hand... he looks at it, not like it's a fish, because kzin tend to look at fish hungrily. No, more like a completely unexpected bauble, maybe a well-preserved single old-fashioned rollerskate found in the middle of the desert hundreds of kilometers from anything approximating civilization. The pause is long enough for Timofeyev to turn, look, raise an eyebrow, and poke the 'tosh in the ribs close enough to a nerve bundle to get his attention.

"Oh. Hrrr." G'reer-Captain bows low, far lower than usual to make up for his horribly rude mistake, then accepts the hand with practiced 'tosh-to-human firmness. "Lieutenant Colonel Greer-Captain, commanding officer FSMIS Francis Drake, Scolopendran Mobile Infantry Sea Corps, ma'am." Another short bow, and then he realizes, perhaps for the first time in his entire life without it being pointed out to him, he's being far too normal. "I... rr... have had the good fortune of making friends with"--a pause as he drops 'honored' and a rank from his string of speech--"Timofeyev and Embassy-Representative. They thought a little trip would do me good." He chuckles softly. "I believe they were right. I am honored to meet you, ma'am."

Meanwhile, Bondayehr watches a drunk man head towards the surf with a quiet sigh, hand in his pocket idly fiddling with an inflatable coracle. Please may he not have to play lifeguard. Not today.

* - * - *

As spaces open up, first H'zta and then Speaker plant themselves, knowing well enough to help themselves to what's offered. Standard Sakkran servings of things alcoholic tend to be just about right, and it's more interesting to listen to the conversation for the time being.

"Peh... ugh, not fun." Kiara grumbles as she finally digs herself out of her bad landing in the sand, noting to herself that at least she didn't crash into any of the people uncomfortably close to where she skidded down. You two have fun in the water, I think I'll stay grounded for now. She thinks hard at Luceh.

Suit yourself. The weather is fine for flying today. I shall thoroughly enjoy it! Luceh responds, ducking under the water again. A moment of tactfully applied magic energy later; and a small geyser of seawater launches the blue-scaled Keeper back into the air, enabling Luceh to take to the skies again without having to climb out of the water first.

"Geez, what a show-off." Kiara grumbles as she spots Tsunami gliding in to perch on her friend's sand-covered shoulder. "Not enjoying the watersports, Tsu?"

"Thought I'd make sure you don't get into trouble." The little drake replies merrily. "Who're the chibis?"

Kiara finally takes closer note of the folks she crashlanded not too far from. "Oh, whoops. Eh, hope I didn't spray anybody with sand with that landing."

"Yeah, you'll hafta pardon Kiara, she's still new at that whole flying thing." Tsunami cheerfully chips in, earning a light thwap on the noggin. from the aforementioned Keeper.

Further down the beach, the dark-haired fellow in the red speedo apparently comes to a decision. One can nearly imagine the Baywatch slow-mo as the dark glasses are nudged back up the sharply-defined nose as the DipCorps officer takes off at an easy jog to strike up a conversation with one of the Xirniumite noblewomen, since one of the ladies seem to be quite visibly out of place while her companion chats with the Tartaran.

"Please forgive the intrusion, honored lady." The masculine voice is confident, with a rich tone and no small degree of amusement in it as the DipCorps officer offers the women a formal flourish of a bow. "I couldn't help but notice you with noone to speak to. If I may be so bold, I'm Maxmillian Patrick Christof the Fourth."

Max's blue eyes twinkle as the sunglasses get pulled down to reveal them. "Though it is quite a handful. Most of my fellow diplomats prefer to cut it down to the rather more manageable 'Max'. I fear I've not made your acquaintance, though I do hope to rectify that shortcoming."

Kraah cranes his neck up a touch to see what all the kerfuffle was all about him. 'Holy cats! It's a near-riot! Ehrron, get on the mobile, and hotpage my caterers. Folks are gonna get hungry and thirsty fast, and I don't think our meager stores are gonna hold long. Have them pitch a tent while they're at it." He continues looking around briefly before his eyes settle on the newest arrivals, including Speaks and his partner in crime in the business world, H'zta.

His eyelids narrow as mischevious thoughts enter his mind. "Oh ho. So they think they can just sneak in here without me seeing, eh? Thress?"

The veiled head of Thress peeks from the side of his chair. "Yes, sirrah?"

Kraah motions ever so slightly with one clawed finger at R'rit and H'zta. "Prep a mole kit with a canister of some appropo tropical-looking beverage for our guests there. Two straws, of course."

Thress looks over, nods and ducks her head back. She unpacks a football-shaped resin canister from her bag, flips open a thin control pad, and presses some keys silently. The top of the canister opens, and she signals Joel to prep two more of the drink he's enjoying with all the trimmings. these are poured from the pitcher he made of the stuff into sealed mugs, which are placed in the canister. The lid closes again with a click, several more keys are pressed, and the panel closes shut. A slight whirring sound is heard, and the canister tunnels straight down into the sand. With the coordinates keyed in, it should emerge in the sand directly between the K'zin pair, where the lid would pop open, exposing the drinks within.

“I hope she does,” Nathi says genuinely in response to Bondy’s reply concerning Shorty. They were Good People™ in her estimation, and damned I they didn’t deserve Good Things™ to come their way. Something that happened far too seldom in the case of the boy there, even if she couldn’t in fairness really call him that anymore.

Her other brow goes up curiously at the pause, though if anything her smile increases a bit, her own grip firm but gentle, lacking the usual qualms your typical baseline might have in dealing with larger, and in most cases, stronger folk. “Well anyone with the good fortune to be able to name not one, but both these fine people as friends is an honor to meet as well. Please, don’t let’s fuss over formalities, especially at such a pleasantly relaxing get-away. Nathicana, or just plain Nathi – either way, it works,” she says, hoping to put G’reer-Captain more at ease ... then she gets a bit of an impish twinkle in her eyes.

“My goodness, but they must be keeping you folks out at sea far too much, as I don’t recall seeing you around in Devras or at the usual meet and greets I’ve had the pleasure to attend. Fairly certain I'd remember if I had. Shame on them. It's bad enough they keep yon Tim out and about so often.”

--- --- ---

The kids of course notice the commotion, pausing in mid-beg to look over at Kiara and Tsunami all ‘oooooh’-like, wide-eyed and all, their youthful exuberance toned down for a moment to quieter commentary in their native tongue before the immediacy of the moment returns, and they get right back into both begging Tarvi to let Ivan come play, and to convince Ivan himself that it really is a good idea – though another target has now been added to the list, confirmed by the way their eyes flicker in turn back towards the now land-bound Keeper.

Speaker quirks a brow when the mechanical mole pops up with a drink, but H'zta almost seems to have been expecting it. The drink is extracted with two hands, one from each kzin, saluted in the same way, and shared in a comfortable way. "Ah, Kraah. I see we finally got the molewaiter to work, finally," the 'ret says with a flick of her ears. "This should be an excellent time to start operational trials."

"We had to at least try to sneak in," Speaker adds inbetween sips of the alcoholic concoction, "both for our own sakes as old hunters and to make sure you were keeping sharp. I think everyone passed well enough." He looks around the beach, recognizes a few faces, doesn't recognize a few others. "Quite the response you have gotten. Hrr hrr."

* - * - *

"Very well then, Nathi," G'reer says with a flick of his ears, still quite a bit of respect in his voice. Once a preferred name's been offered to a kzin, he'll use it, no doubt--comes with the social psychology. He's also doing a good job of not staring at any of Nathi's, ah, rather pleasant features, although it's rather obvious he's putting effort into it. "Hrrr, yes. Our deployment schedules are much like the AeroSpace Directorate's. Five months on, one month off, repeat. I have not been to any of the, rr, social gatherings as I have usually been busy on maneuvers."

"All the more reason to pull him off the bridge and somewhere where he can relax," Bondayehr says chidingly.

The 'tosh's pink batwing ears get a little redder. "Hrrr, yes, nubezecj kzin." If Nathi's never heard the Submissive Tone before, she might be able to guess that this is it; the phrase G'reer-Captain offers in the Hero's Tongue is a bit more mewling than usual.

Ranisath leaned forwards and petted the otterkin pups lightly, as Kestrel Amea did likewise; by most standards, she was a stunningly attractive woman, with long black hair that was as dark as a midnight lake in the shade of trees, and sultry dark eyes that glimmered with a keen intelligence.

She was, if one cared to research, the woman, aside from his wife, he spent the most time in public with, and from his manner, softy caressing her hair, it was clear that he loved her dearly. Indeed, he was keeping up a constant telepathic conversation with her.

The result of this was that she purred softly and leaned down to pick one of the pups up, chuckling to herself a little, “Adorable!” she said as the gently and carefully hugged the wet otter.

Siri grinned at them, too. “Yep, he is.”

Ranisath turned to look at her, and smirked, then looked back to the pups, “I can fly, but I didn’t catch these. They come from sapient beings, so these are all moulted feathers. They’re worth quite a bit, too. I’m Ranisath, and I suppose I am important.”

In the meanwhile, Cassandra Smith had her own concerns. They were extremely simple, and yet quite difficult to accomplish – remain polite and near-silent. Be seen and not heard. The usual stuff, really, if you are an ambassador from royalist Allanea. As a matter of fact – it appeared Maverick Monningham was acting almost the same.

The Monninghams were here in their full splendor – if you can call four serious business suits for the father, the mother, and their children 'splendor'. None of the Allaneans were drinking alcohol – orange juice and iced tea.

Due to the fact that Allanea's relations with the Segments – and to that matter, with Menelmacar – were not good enough – or bad enough - to require a busy embassy, the Monninghams and Cassandra were perfectly free to attend.

On the other hand, the United States of Allanea isn't really able to turn out lots of good diplomats – and thus they were almost the only people that could actually be trusted with attending.

The effect was less then spectacular.

The small group of Allaneans huddled in their own corner, sipped on their cold drinks, and looked out-of-place completely in their businesslike apparel.

"Trust Dad to come up with this nonsense." – Michael grumbled under his breath. "The world hates Allaneans for going to conferences naked – and here were are, baking alive on the beach in three-piece suits."

Katt^Ori is rather more annoyed with the steady rise of naked flesh of various species not being available to her than anything to do with Lor at the moment, so she basically, and with the complete lack of thinking before doing common to her kind rolls over onto her back and spreads the wrap out to act as a functional beach towel, caring more about the various pseudo-photosynthesis related benefits her kind recieves from this kind of exposure to a sun than the fact that she is entirely naked from the middle up. Essentially yes, she is tanning. Only with the added bonus of practically inhaling a vitamin spray of some kind.

Lorain, who in her tasteful, dull, but still a two piece-bathing suit type attire, walks through the sand and observes the various parties, everyone from the ratcats to the flying scaled things dumping themselves in the sand, who she in particular regards with a reflexive and damn nigh on instinctive glare. She carefully and cautiously keeps a respectful distance from all, though, hands behind her back and occasionally looking rather annoyed at the obviously exposing herself-for-base-reasons Kat.

No dignity!

Kat feels rather mischevious, and so responds in the same manner.

And what about Lorainfriend with that well built w-

I told you not to engage in this form of communication you slime skinned little ...arrogant..gah! And don't mention that ever again!

Should I grow horns and sit under a bridge now, Lorainfriend?

That's Lorain-Master-Annoyed to you, and...sigh. Just sigh.

Hee!

Nathicana takes a moment to check and make sure the little ones aren’t getting themselves into too much trouble, then nods as she looks back to the pair, somewhat curious about both G’reer’s reaction, and what seems to be the deferential attitude he takes with Bondayehr. “I’ll warrant you could both do with a bit of relaxing. So how does a swim sound?” she asks, walking around the big ‘tosh and slyly hooking an arm around each of theirs as she slips in between them.

“The water’s great, and I can keep an eye on the twin terrors from out there well enough. Or would you rather go get some drinks and do some mingling? Kraah certainly doesn’t do anything by half, so I’m sure food and drink will be nigh unto overflowing.”

Bondayehr quirks an eyebrow. "You sure they'll be all right? Better to have a sentry on-post than having to run to react to whatever trouble they get themselves into. As you know they will; there's plenty of trouble about." You have to give him credit, he speaks plainly. "Besides, old 'Zio Timo' can probably pre-empt such trouble. I can stay back with them."

It's an offer and a military recommendation based on the tactical situation, and as its a matter of advice and nothing more he does nothing to resist being led about. That would just be rude.

The 'tosh, on the other hand, just pads along like a tiger on a leash. "Swimming sounds good." He thinks for a moment, trying not to sound like a total idiot. "The sea has always been calming to me. I think you have a good idea there, Nathi."

"Certainly a reasonable policy." Kairis said. She was silent for a moment as Speaker and H'zta made their way over, sipping her drink and taking the time to savor it.

"I'm going to go check on the boys." Kostas said, rising from his seat and taking the drink with him. "If you will excuse me...?"

Kostas walked the few hundred feet over to where Petros and Georgios were building a large sandcastle. He smiled slightly at the sight. "I'm glad you two decided to work together. Last time we went to the beach..."

"I know! I know, Papa! I won't knock over Georgios's sandcastle again. I promise. He doesn't even have his own." Petros protested.

"Actually, we were about to go swimming anyway, Papa." Georgios added. "Do you and Mama want to come?"

"I think your mother is busy talking to the Sakkran gentleman over there." Kostas said. "But I'll go. Just let me set my drink down."

"Can I have a sip?" Petros asked mischievously.

"No." Kostas answered, simply enough.

Ivan looks wide-eyed at the other children before saying, “Hi. I'm Ivan.” For a moment he's torn between the various spectacles the beach offers, but the arrival of the Keeper definitely settles things, because, well, dragon. Sorta. He takes off running towards them, confident that his new pals will be close behind.

Shaking his head, Tarvi smiles and just waves the twins along and follows the group from a safe distance.

Kraah raises his mug up in salute, but keeps one eye on Kairis. "The funny thing about the policy is that the definition of mutual benefit can shift. In my tenure, it was mundane information we needed, and plenty of it. What's changed where, who's doing what, what spices are in favor, the big singing sensation of the week....all that stuff. Now it seems we're after metaphysical and supernatural knowledge. So far there hasn't been any incredible shift in our holdings towards or away from this end, but i've had more than a few reports of comissioned journeys to foreign properties involving phenomena not explained by the sciences alone float past my offices. Thress, care to show H'zta how the mole server works?"

Thress gets up from her spot and walks over, bowing as she arrives before Speaks and H'zta. "The digging nodule..." A clawed finger indicates the protruberance at the front of the mole. "...is a low-level subsonic driller. As the nodule vibrates from the localized frequency discharge, it pushes away sand, soil and like matter." Her fingers then run along the sides and bottom of it, pointing out rows and rows of tiny dew-drop sized nodules. "Numerous fibers around the body push it along. It leaves no tunnel behind it in order to prevent erosion and pitting of land. It doesn't go through solid matter like walls and stones, though. This is still a prototype. Sirrah has had me testing it through various degrees for the better part of a week now. Using it in water has yielded and unexpected failure as it was attacked by dolphins." She then seems to sudder a bit. "He's even considering ..... 'customizable' options like fanfare and a pop-up flag when it opens its container."

Kraah leans back in his chair again like he's the Lord of the Land. "Gotta keep busy when you're in retirement or you'll end up screaming about the End of the World from a street corner."

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

Sshrakka, in the meantime, keeps her eyes on the multiple displays, coordinating with the other security groups when needed and eyeballing visual display of the area 30 miles around the beach. "Everything seems to be in order. Considering the groups there, i'm surprised a fist-fight hasn't broken out."

Wheeland's avatar perks its head up, throat moving in a sniffing motion. "Well, it IS a diplomatic party, not a drunken university student gathering." The business-suited Allaneans were cued up on screen. "They stick out like a sore thumb."

Sshrakka nods her head. "I'll keep an eye on their area. Knowing their reputation, someone will probably start a yelling match with them at some point." Her eye drifts to Tim and company again. "He seems to be on alert. Such lousy behavior when you're supposed to be relaxing. Wanna donate a bit of brainpower and apprise him?"

Wheeland's avatar twitches its tail. "Will do. I got spare functions busy with calculations for dinner, so I may as well put it use." A short time later, the body of a gecko walks out on the sand near where Tim and the twins are at. It moves like it's climbing up his leg, but being a holographic image no change in skin pressure is felt. When it gets to his shoulder, it whispers softly. "We're watching you, Tim."

The twins find this development to be more than acceptable, and take off after Ivan with varied whoops and giggles of pure childlike glee. The potential for exploration and fun with a big dragon-like person, not to mention a reploid, when in the company of a new friend is nigh limitless after all. Free from the usual restraints put on them at more formal gatherings, the two have no problem displaying the exuberance that has had Nathi grumbling good-naturedly to close friends about giving her greys – which of course she’s had colored over - bless the adorable little ankle-biters.

--- --- ---

“Surely you didn’t come here to babysit, Tim,” Nathi says, nodding in agreement to his assessment all the same. He’s well-acquainted with how much trouble they can be when they put their minds to it, like any kid granted, but seeing as there’s two of them … and they seemed to have picked up a third. Hoo boy.

“I certainly won’t force you to relax and have fun, but bear in mind I can move pretty quick when I need to, and I won’t be straying far while they’re up and running. It’s very sweet of you to offer all the same, and I do know they’re going to want to see you at some point,” she continues, offering an appreciative hug around his shoulders. The man would either do what he wanted, or make himself miserable doing what he thought either needed doing, or someone wanted done regardless, from her experience. It was best not to pressure or try to control the situation when it came to him. Besides, he had Shorty to set him straight if he needed it, so there really wasn’t much to worry about.

She smiles up at G’reer-Captain, keeping whatever thoughts she has going on peripherally to herself. “Good to hear you approve, my dear ‘tosh. I grew up around the sea, and have always loved it. Pity we couldn’t easily bring my sailboat today. It’s just a little cozy one, but I do enjoy getting out on the water in it. Tim, feel free to join us, or not as makes you feel best. I’ll keep an eye on your big friend here, make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble in the meantime. It’s a party, folks – do what feels good, yes?”

Élisabeth felt her heart flutter in her breast as the Heir of Tartarus smiled at her disarmingly. Dropping her gaze with playfully feigned demureness, she returned a smile that was at once fleeting and coquettish, all too briefly revealing a marvellous set of flawless, pearly white teeth.

‘Pray lead the way, Your Imperial Highness,’ the baroness indicated with a hint of quiet amusement, her eyes glittering strangely as she looked into his countenance again.

Accepting his gallantly offered arm, Élisabeth silently thanked Lord Nefarious with a small smile. The baroness leant upon her escort with slightly greater heaviness than she would normally have permitted; as if suddenly the loose, hot sands of the beach had left the lady’s delicate footing unsteady, and given her need for a gentleman’s support. Briefly handing Damien her parasol to hold, Élisabeth pushed at her hair and readjusted an elaborate diamond hatpin. The baroness’ perfume was warm and intoxicating, lulling one’s senses with the mingled, feminine scent of summer roses and rare orchids.

Élisabeth considered asking the Heir of Tartarus if he had not arrived at the party with any acquaintances, for the lady had earlier noticed him speaking with an unknown woman. Her inquiry was cut short, however, as she became aware of an intrusion; an intrusion that was quite unwelcome, and for several reasons. Chiefly, because Élisabeth rather desired the enigmatic Lord Nefarious alone and to herself, and was not particularly eager to share him with someone else. Also, because it happened that this stranger was not a human at all, but instead another of those peculiar, kitten-like creatures.

It did not at this point even occur to Élisabeth that the Scolopendran might have desired to speak with her. For one thing, the noblewoman had not the faintest idea what, precisely, the creature was, or from whence it had come. She could thus not fathom what business it might have (or imagined it had) with her. It seemed, however, unthinkable to Élisabeth that even an anthropomorphic cat would encroach on a private conversation if it did not first know either participant, and the lady thus considered it a reasonable enough presumption that the creature had recognised one of them, at least.

The noblewoman turned to Damien and brought her lips close to his ear, lightly brushing thin wisps of soft and feathery curls against his cheek. When she spoke, he could feel the tickling of her warm breath against his skin.

‘An acquaintance of yours, Lord Nefarious?’ whispered Élisabeth, the slightest shade of puzzlement discernable in her voice.

"True, I didn't," Timofeyev replies, looking over the vast expanse of the ocean and the rather beautiful Sakkran sands, "but I didn't come for much any reason at all so babysitting's as good as any. 'Sides, like you said, it's only a matter of time, so there's no point in keeping them waiting." Extricating himself gently from Nathi's arm, he politely excuses himself and wades back up the beech, completely not noticing the little hologrammatic gecko skittering along behind him to catch up.

"Hrrm," G'reer-Captain says quietly to himself, thinking aloud, "I hope I had nothing to do with it. Still, it is the proper Hero's choice, duty before pleasure." That weird vocal subtext of respect is still there, then he looks down at the much smaller Dominioner next to him. "Hrr, I cannot rightfully explain it myself." He just sniffs, and savors the fresh smell of the salty sea. "I probably like the sea because it suggests plenty of fish. You could not bring your sailboat, I could not bring 'my' submarine. I suppose that much is fair." His ears wink once, twice.

Somewhere along the way back, Bondayehr finally gets accosted by the weightless amphibious space lizard on his shoulder. With how much he's thinking, he's rather proud of himself that he doesn't jerk, startled; instead, he glances over and smirks. "Hiya, Wheeland. So you are. What's up with you and Ssh? Don't tell me you've been tasked with babysitting a bunch of names in lights."

* - * - *

"Flags and fanfare would be a nice touch, I think," Speaker-Rrit says with a chuckle, breath whiffing through his nostrils. He and his consort return the little bows while seated, but without any actual sense of decorum so much as simple mutual respect. Old friends and precious metals and all that.

"See, we have our first comment from a consumer research campaign I've still to develop," H'zta says with a chuckle. If we really need an aquatic robowaiter we can just use any number of available industrialfish chassis. So far, so good. How goes your cycle, Director Thress? I know what a handful that old lizard over there can be--he hasn't been causing too much trouble, I hope?"

* - * - *

Shorty is most certainly not 'kitten-like' or neko-ish, and would probably be quite insulted as her kzinrret self were it to be suggested. Sure, she's 'only' about 212 centimeters tall, putting her a bit below average, is a bit on the slight side, and has a slightly different posture because of it, but the bat-wing ears should be a dead giveaway. 'Course, she can't read minds and so she has no knowledge of any inaccurate assumptions or estimations going on. That being said, she does have quite the nose, those being standard kzin issue, and the benefit of years of Diplomatic Section training and experience. She figures out she's not wanted, please to pardon the pun, cat-quick.

Still, she continues to stand a respectful distance away in an unassuming posture, letting the two make up their minds if they want to deign to talk to her or not. Worst case scenario would require an apologetic retreat, but for the time being no harm's done in merely being present. It's a free world, or at least this part of it is, and simply leaving now with nothing more than a quiet apology would be even ruder than waiting for either a proper acknowledgement or a proper brush-off.

Lord Nefarious could not suppress the smile that crept onto his lips. It was not that he was not used to such behaviour from members of the fairer sex, he just had not expected to experience it at the beach. He was beginning to wonder if he had stepped into a dream, when they were approached.

Unknown to him, his thoughts on the newcomer were very similar to his companion. He did not know the Scolopendran either, and like the Baroness assumed that the interruption was for the woman with him.

Turning his head slightly, careful not to ruffle his companion’s hair, he whispered back. “I am afraid that I am as much in the dark as you, Baroness.” He turned his head and walked them a few steps closer, letting things play out however they were going to.

“Tim will be Tim, regardless of the circumstances,” Nathi offers with a shrug and a smile. “You’re right about Heroic, though. I can think of few others who I’d as soon have my children idolize the way they do him. As for why you like what you like, no matter. It’s enough you know what pleases you in the end.”

She slowly slides her arm out from his as she gradually circles around in front of him, getting a rather mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “He’s right as well – relaxing is good for the soul. Too much work and no play make for rigid thinking and entirely not enough adventure.”

And with that, she reaches out to pat G’reer square in the chest with an outstretched palm before dashing with surprising agility further into the water.

“Tag – you’re it!”

The gecko-avatar stretches out fully on Tim's shoulder. "Well, I wouldn't call it babysitting. Just making sure some ZOMG GALACTUS-class menace doesn't mess up the royal binge, so to speak. We're positioned everywhere around except directly in your trousers, so security is as tight as a drum. Hmmm.....Ssh says that R&R time is now or you'll find a torpedo launched at your haunches." His head lifts and beckons out to a point in the water. "She's in a bad mood having been on-call for the past who-knows-how-long. Testing out prototype LandMates and all that."

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

Thress manages the approximation of a grimace; dewlap inflated fully but showing purple while she looks at Kraah. "My cycle has been unexemplary. The warmth is good, but Sirrah has been working me, the Skeen are constantly 'at it' and this keeping eyes on CommSatt findings are going to give me a case of the cankers eventually. As for HIM...." A thumb jerks towards Kraah. "...he's done nothing I haven't made allowances for yet. But it's what he's scheming that whittles away my stomach lining."

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

Joel looks down on the prone plant-girl laying out topless. Oh, man. This is getting damn Roman around here. Curse you, Kraah. Curse you and your penchant for hedonism! Sclessinger then spies Ehrron busy making drinks for people as they request them, depending on what is in their present stores. Rum-based tropical concoctions seem to be in demand, with the less-frequently drank ale and lager poured into pitchers.

He seems to have the situation in hand. I need to have a seat. This is getting too exciting for me. He then turns and bows slightly to the women he mentally labeled Boobz-A-Plenty and The Flasher. "If you'll excuse me, I think I feel a touch of the booze kicking in. I need to collect my head a bit." He puts down the empty high-ball glass, picks up a bottle of water and walks off a few yards away from the hub-bub. There he sits, looking out at sea. I coulda been a fisherman, or a guard in the Border Patrol. But nooooooo....I had to become a good doctor. Jeez.....

G'reer-Captain blinks and sniffs the air quietly for a few moments, standing stock still as his brain attempts to bridge the cognitive dissonance between what should be happening (him, aboard Francis Drake, probably looking over navigation charts) and what is happening (just being smacked in the chest by a short black-haired woman who happens to be running off into the surf on the coast of a country he's not even stationed in). The ratcat's career has, so far, been very by-the-book; this suits him well, being a very organized and by-the-book person. There's no regulations concerning this, so he's momentarily at a loss.

Okay, build up from basics then. Oh. It's that basic. He played tag, back when he was a young thing. The rules are simple enough, and appealing to the evolved predator. So, after apparently giving Nathi an honorable head start (yeah, that's the ticket, his reach is so much longer than hers, after all), he roars and gives chase on all fours, pouncing through the surf.

* - * - *

Bondayehr looks over his shoulder just before he intercepts Tarvi following the pack of munchkins. I'm missing a game of tag. I love tag. The customary salute-and-fall-in rendezvous maneuver--"Good afternoon, sir"--done out of sheer habit and from being too thoughtful for his own good, puts him a step to the left and a step behind Tarvi just like regulations say. PTs, even swim PTs, are a uniform and standard customs-and-courtesies are required unless one is actually doing PT. Walking around on a beach does not classify. Besides that, he continues the conversation with Wheeland. "A torpedo, hmmm? A crack shot she may be, but I don't think the payoff mitigates the risk of blowing up the Cetagandan Imperial Consort here. Anyway, she can consider it penance, being a good parental figure now to make up for being a bad one some time in the near future. No, nothing official, not yet, but my mind at least's made up."

He looks back over the coastline, following the avatar's direction. "Y'know, if it weren't completely unprincipled and inappropriate of me, I'd almost recommend she hand some officer-in-command time to her XO and come onto the beach herself for local low-observability security reasons. No obvious heaters or armor, and fully capable of maintaining site security closer in where capital-grade weapons may not quite fit. Plus it's always good to have a slightly noticable but not too noticable security presence around, y'know? Plainsclothes stuff."

* - * - *

H'zta sighs, an affectation borrowed from the humans, and shoots Kraah a tired look. "I know how that is. I work with him, after all."

"Anyway, Thress," Speeks says, smiling thinly with flicking ears, "sit down and relax at least a little bit. We will hardly do anything rash, and if anyone asks we are speaking of things of dire importance. Like SIS/Skeen interaction and the like. Now that I have mentioned it, it will not be an untruth." He flicks his ears some more.

Tsunami has just enough time to trill a warning and get off of Kiara's shoulder before the Keeper hits the sand for the second time that day from the force of three enthusiastic children deciding she's a good pounce target.

"Kids these days." The little mechanical dragon chuckles, landing in the sand near Kiara's head as the brassy-red scaled Keeper pushes herself upright enough to get her face out of the sand. "'Grats, Kiara, I think you attracted some high ranking chibis."

"Eh?" Kiara shakes her wings out (again) to get the sand out, taking care not to thwack one of the kids that seems to have tackled her legs with the sails. She spots Tarvi tailing the trio. "Ah, I gather these are yours?"
---

Out over the water, Luceh decides she's about ready for a drink. All that flying and diving is thirsty business, after all! She angles her flight, dropping from one thermal and picking up another over the beach proper, surveying the ground below. Her gleaming amber eyes sight what apppears to be the bar, and more importantly an unattended pitcher. Already warmed up from the earlier flying and in the mood to show the junior Keeper how this flying business is done, she zeros in on the bar and heads down.

Her dive isn't one of those insane face-first plunges like she was doing over the water; but rather a tight spiral just off center from the pavillion where Kraah and company are situated. Given her rate of speed, few people likely have more than brief warning before the blue-scaled Keeper makes a low pass over the pavillion, snatching up a pitcher of the ale as she shoots by with a brief wake of disturbed air and a quick shout of thanks.

Once just past the pavillion and where she won't land on top of anybody, she backwings hard, turning her level flight into a brief hover before she drops neatly to the sand, having already downed a fair amount of the pitcher's contents. Compared to Kiara's earlier "landing", it's clear that Luceh (both shorter than Kiara, and wearing a nothing as a concession to the impracticality of Keeper anatomy so far as clothes are concerned) is a rank expert.

"Oh, loho weet!!" She exclaims in her native tongue about the booze. "Far better than that disgusting sake stuff my brother is so fond of!"

The Gecko-Avatar blinks a bit and the image fuzzes just a touch as it processes the statement, routing it to Ssh all the while. In the ship proper, Sshrakka looks at her bridgemate Kheet with a querying look. He nods sagely, and the 'thumbs-up' signal is given from her. "All coordinated units. Due to the mass of guests, i'm going to do some closer ObSec there incognito. Will maintain OpSec. Handing command of localized forces to LieutComm Kheet, and will maintain contact throughout."

A moment passes before a response comes from Eeorouh. "Will do. Make sure profile stays low on this. O and O." But by the time the response comes, Sshrakka us already turned tail, pushing herself through the liquid oxygen medium which is enclosed in the ship towards her quarters. There she sheds her officer's togs and dons the appropo look for the task at hand. Kheet relays a message to Tim through the Gecko. "Seems you two were of a like mind. She'll be here in 3 at location *xyz*."

A couple minutes later, Sshrakka is 'launched' from one of the totary torpedo tubes in the ship's underbelly at 1/4 power of course. She propels herself through the ocean water with her tail, arms tucked at her sides, until she reaches the beach-head. When she comes out and walks on the sand, it's like a scene from one of those Bo Derek movies, except with a 7'10 reptile with some slight scarring under her eyelids. Her black bodysuit is made to look like a spear-fisher's, seemingly made of insulating latex, and the harpoon gun she has slung on her back attests to this.

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

Thress removes her veil covering her head, showing an intensely deep green scalation. "That's a plausible bit of obfuscation. After all, if old Leatherback, as i've heard his estate staff call him, can lay around like a hump on a log, so can I." She looks over just past him as Joel takes his leave, pegging the people flowing to and fro in her mind.

The swoop and snatch from Luceh nearly merits a fletchette in the Keeper's aft-end, but Thress notices who it is just as her hand reaches the holster strapped to her tail. "Rrmmm....yes, I can lay around like a hump. Right. Sure. Damn it!"

Tarvi glances back and pauses when he sees Bondayehr now beside him. “Let's see. Scolopendran military, talking about blowing things up, saluting at a beach party... Colonel Bondayehr, I presume?” He offers the other man his hand, allowing himself to be distracted due to the feeling that the kids can't hurt whatever it was they were attacking.

-+-+-

Speaking of which, Ivan detaches himself from Kiara and takes a step back. “I'm not dad's, I'm mine,” he solemnly explains. “I'm Ivan. These are my friends...uh.”

-+-+-

Gregor, for his part, has found a nice, cold, mildly alcoholic drink and manages to get a fair bit down the beach before accidentally tripping. His drink goes flying and he lands with a thud almost on top of Katt^Ori.

Kairis nodded slightly to Kraah's words, giving a brief smile to the approaching Scolopendrans before speaking to the Sakkran. "We would have been of more help in that regard before the Shattering, of course, but we still do have some substantial resources which we can make available to you. I can put you in touch with the Order of the Falcon and the Order of Steel. Are you, by any chance, familiar with either?"

Kostas and the boys headed out into the waves. Georgios was still a small boy and her mostly stayed with his father. Sometimes Kostas would hold the boy while they rode the crest of a wave and Georgios would giggle and writhe as he was splashed. Georgios still identified primarily with his immediate family and was happy to simple spend time with his father. Petros, on the other hand, was more curious about the other guests and began to swim back towards the made concentration of guests. The teenager surfaced from below the water near Pénélope, grinning broadly at the grown woman. "Lovely day, isn't it?" he said with a childish grin.

Compared to the ranks and positions of many of the guests present, she was by far a less important one. It was true that she was a ruler. But even if she governed her own corner of the Empire In Denial, with its ten million people in population at the moment, her little corner was very little indeed. Tiny, so to say.

Known to her countrymen mostly as the Benefactress of the Church, those from the outside world would surely recognize in her the Heiress Presumptive to the Sword of Rulers, the first in line to become Shokath-Kshas and all the other titles that were included in the package. First in line to become Empress In Denial, for in as long as her brother kept on hopping from woman to woman without bothering leaving descendants.

Vethara, Archduchess of Taraskovya, (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Vethara_Shakhovskaya) was not on the spot in any official capacity. She was there on the insistence of her friends who deemed that it was better for her to meet new people and see new places, than to stay confined to the Ducal Palace at Lorelei, especially when she had a very apt little government to look after Zoria in her times of absence.

And so she was there, in a white beach dress with a short skirt, nothing provocative or scandalous about it, yet still not too conservative. The top of the dress was open, revealing a portion of her chest and swimsuit, a small cross of Saint Olga hanging from her neck. A white hat on her head to shield her from the rays of the sun, her raven black hair falling freely on her shoulders and back.

With her were two characters, one more interesting than the other. The first was a tall, athletic man in casual pants and shirt, towering above the woman and surveying the surroundings attentively. A knowledgeable observer would recognize Captain Dolgoslavov of the leib-Guard, commander of the so-called “Swan Guards”, the private life guards of Her Royal Highness. Ever since the assassination attempt on his protégée, the Captain did not leave the woman alone much in public areas.

The second character was not even human. In fact, it was a wolf. A cute wolfy, just at least twice as big as a casual gray wolf, this black-furred beast with a white chest was nobody else than Pushozverek. Or simply “Pushok” – Fluff. Fluff was maybe Vethara’s most loyal friend, fully devoted to the woman in body and soul. And despite his imposing looks, the wolf looked around rather peacefully, staring carefully at some people to take in their features, before passing on to others. And all that while staying at a fixed distance from the Archduchess, by her right leg, keeping up with whatever pace the woman decided.

OOC: Sowwy for the late arrival. If big combat-armour-to-bits-ripping pets aren't allowed, will edit the post accordingly.

Pénélope stopped playing with her hair as a stranger confidently approached her position in the water. At his introduction an expression of amused curiosity flashed across the viscountess’ lovely countenance, and she touched absentmindedly at her fair cheek. Pénélope seemed to stare at this new individual for quite some time before finally venturing to reply, regarding him with her unsettlingly impassive, ash-grey eyes.

‘Oh I’ve no doubt that you do...’ replied the noblewoman at last, smiling as though at a recently remembered joke.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, um, Mr Christof,’ continued Pénélope very politely, her brief pause the result of deliberation on whether Maxwell had actually invited her to use his first name. ‘Viscountess Pénélope Várnwëniel of House Vanyánarien,’ she explained, extending her hand courteously.

The noblewoman had certainly not failed to notice the man’s almost total state of undress, or the style of his bathing costume, although she seemed quite blasé about it. Pénélope permitted her eyes to glance down for the slightest moment, if only because she was curious to see how Maxwell would react. Of course, the delightfully cynical society lady did not blush. If anything, a slight, amused smile seemed to play across her lips.

‘So you are a diplomat then, sir?’ continued Pénélope, deciding that this was as good a topic as any with which to bridge the silence. ‘Which government precisely did you say that you worked for?’

It was at this moment that Petros surfaced nearby, remarking to the lady upon the loveliness of the weather.

‘That it most certainly is,’ agreed the noblewoman in her bright, silvery voice. ‘Quite a perfect day for the beach, don’t you think?’ she asked with a playful flirt of her hand, causing several bracelets to jingle lightly.

Pénélope regarded the young Danaan warmly, her scarlet lips curling into a powerfully fascinating and rather mysterious smile. From the corner of her eyes she glanced over at Maxwell, curious to see if this much more friendly reaction had inspired any hints of jealousy.

Smiling as he watched his conversational companion depart, having met a new species for the first time, Bruce turned to observe the beach, which was beginning to fill up rather quickly. Giant insectoids he did not recognize, reploids his internal files claimed to know, and a whole passel of people he could generally identify, most, unsurprisingly, from the Triumvirate member states.

Some of the people were decidedly, in his opinion overdressed for the occasion of beer, beach, and barbeque, and a few seemed to taking the dressing to the extreme. Frankly, the ones he could clearly identify as Kajali were the worst, in his opinion. Nudity would have been preferable to their manner of dress, as it...

His thoughts were interrupted, as Rebecca, obviously tired of playing Frisbee, bounded up and planted a decidedly non-for-public-consumption kiss on him, clearly marking her territory against the many scantily dressed occupants of the beach. Bruce returned the kiss with only a tiny bit more dignity. It was, after all, a party. When she spun around in his arms and settled against him, he leaned down and murmured against her ear, "So what do you want to do, love?"

Hooking her head back and looking up, her forehead against the edge of Bruce's chin, she grinned. "I'm rather hot from all that Frisbee. Wanna swim?" She pointed out to a small sand bank some distance off shore. "Race you." Then she was gone, leaving a stunned Bruce behind for about three seconds.

He followed. trying hard to catch up. He was only couple steps behind by the time she hit the water, and he knew by then he had already lost. As good as Bruce was at swimming (and he was good, it being his primary form of exercise), Rebecca outclassed him in the water, especially in a straight line, by probably an order of magnitude.

Still, it never hurt to try.

They could always talk to people once they had cooled off, anyway. And besides, it looked like there might even be people out there.

Timofeyev chuckles wryly, idly scratching one of the ragged scars under the left sleeve of his regulation-green physical training shirt before accepting the hand. "My reputation precedes me it seems, although I dispute the middle one as being a character trait, sir. That would be Sub-Commander Sshrakka's fault." Even if ad mostly because Tarvi's distracted, Bondayehr isn't, mostly keeping his eyes on his particular brand of 'penance.' "Anyway, Consort Tarvi, I present Ranger Shipmind Wheeland." He tilts his shoulder, proffering the light-trick gecko. "Ranger Shipmind Wheeland, Consort Tarvi of the Imperial Union. There, now everyone's introduced..."

He'd forgotten that he was even wearing a PT shirt and had it tucked in as per regulations; it was so much a habit now when going out in public that it was automatic. One could argue that it made him one of the more prudish Scolopendrans alive, were that the motivation; as it stands, the sheer amount of scarring around his center of mass had put people off their lunch before and generally it was just left sight unseen and unsaid. "Aaaaand speaking of. Consort Tarvi, Sub-Commander Sshrakka of the Rangers; Sub-Commander Sshrakka, Consort Tarvi of the Imperial Union." Complete with necessary arm movements, although seemingly slightly more comfortable this time. Ssh's physical presence statistically means a much lower incidence of something horrible about to happen, unless it has something to do with caves and beasties that give Sakkrans cause to worry.

"Now everyone's introduced. Hrm. Looks like Shorty taught the honorary nephew and niece well."

* - * - *

Speeks isn't slow on the uptake either, if the very gentle hand on Thress' drawing-arm is any indication. Yeah, that's a quick way to lose it, but well worth the risk. "You have competent Skeen under your command. They will do their job and inform you if higher coordination is needed. As for that," he nods towards the Keeper, "you cannot rightfully say you are surprised. We are a notoriously, hrrr, active bunch when we relax, as silly as that sounds."

Maverick Monnigham approached Kairis with a certain completely un-Allanean air of shyness to him. “Excuse me, please. I couldn’t help but overhear you.” – he sighs, being obviously uncomfortable, both due to the situation and due to the fact the weather does not fit his three-piece suit. “I would say that there are a few… errors on our part. This Finara episode you refer to is likely just a record error – likely we just didn’t issue a retraction due to the problems that happened in Allanea itself – the coups and such, you know. But now we’re entering a period – hopefully, a long one, of stability. I promise you that once I get back home, this will be adjusted and I will personally ask my department to issue an apology on the matter.”

“As for our… rabid militancy… yes, unfortunately you are right. However, recently action was taken to… not make Allanea peaceful, that’d never work, but to… channel the militancy into those instances where our intervention is… acceptable to the world community. In other words, we don’t invade people anymore, unless there’s a goddamn good reason that other people besides Allaneans recognize. That was even entrenched as a policy as several Congressional bills.” – he blushes uncomfortably – “Ah dear me, I am talking business again. This orange juice is lovely by the way.”

* * *

In the meanwhile, Michael Monningham has made the decision that, of all the different sapients in this ‘party’, it was Timofeyev Bondayehr that was the most interesting – as a matter of fact, that man was just cool.

But before he could approach him, he decided, he must get out of this embarrassing rig.

The solution came to him like the proverbial lightbulb flash overhead in old-fashioned cartoons. When his father darted off to look all miserable in front of some foreign diplomat, Michael made as if to follow him – and then went into some random corner where it seemed people were not looking at him.

There, he threw off his jacket, tore his shirt off in his best Clark Kent imitation, revealing a multi-colored Hawaiian shirt, and then threw off his pants. Then, the sixteen-year-old did what he planned to do when his family set off for this dinner – he fished in the pockets of his jacket, extracting eventually a set of folded shorts in dazzling blue. These he put on over the swimming trunks – swimming trunks almost as embarrassing as a three-piece-suit.

Finally he lost the shoes.

Barefoot, he ran up to Bondayehr.

“Eh, Hi. I’m Michael Monningham. My Dad’s the Allanean ambassador to the Segments. Are you really the Bondayehr?”

“I’m Naiya, and this is Marcus – he’s my brother,” the little girl says, grinning impishly as the two hurriedly disentangle themselves. “You’re not like the Sakkrans. And you fly.”

Marcus takes the opportunity to finally take a really good look at who it is they’ve managed to pounce, his face taking on an expression of childlike awe, mouth open slightly, big brown eyes blinking. “She’s pretty,” he whispers softly, taking a step back and getting somewhat shy all of a sudden.

“Does he fly too?” Naiya continues, unabashed, pointing to Tsunami. “And no, he’s not our daddy. Mama is out swimming, and Devon isn’t here. That’s our uncle Tim though,” she added, with pride, pointing to Bondayehr, then continuing with a sage nod. “He’s a Hero, you know.”

=*=*=*=*=

Giving a quick glance over her shoulder at the sound of the roar shows that the competition is indeed in hot pursuit. Having seen a ‘ret in action before, giving chase to some decidedly large cattle that had broken loose, she isn’t surprised at the speed or agility, though she is once again struck with the whole concept of poetry in motion.

A bit of a shiver runs through her at that, and she pours on a bit more speed, as best she can manage with the resistance from the water, and the lack of firm ground to be found in the shifting sands underneath it. Granted, she has a bit of an advantage over her fellow baseline humans, but G’reer doesn’t need to know that. It’s a good thing this is just for play. The recollections of Skoloti-Hucy and the cattle also included her rather impressive takedown of the beasts as well as the chase. Kzin could be quite lethal when they put their minds to it … something to remember should one ever have the misfortune of getting on the wrong side of one. Still, this was play, and safe enough, right?

She redoubles her efforts all the same.

With a playful shriek she turns towards more shallow waters, heading down the beach in the direction the kids had taken. Wincing slightly at the sight of them disentangling themselves from one of the Keepers, she makes a mental note to remind them that not everyone appreciated pouncing, even at laid-back events.

I hope for Tim’s sake they behave themselves, bless his stubborn hide.

"Oh, hello, Michael." At the word 'Allanean' Bondayehr feels the uncomfortable sensation most Scolopendrans call 'brainslide' and all associate with the fact that reality doesn't quite mesh up all too well. For some reason, he free-associates it in an ironic way with rugged individualism (http://dagobah.tchmachines.com/~tpjzdd/albums/randomocity/kirk.jpg). "Yes, well, I'm a Bondayehr. Probably the famous one, ya." It's been quite a while since he's had to deal with anything vaguely fanboyish, and even then the cult of celebrity in the Segments follows a more Scandinavian bent (i.e. it doesn't really exist) than in broader Western culture. "I suppose your father's here on business, then, and you're stuck playing wingman. I know the feeling." Wry grin.

* - * - *

The advantage G'reer-Captain has in having a more pouncy-leapy form of locomotion on all fours is that in the shallows most of the time he's out of the water and thus hydrodynamic drag isn't as much of a concern. Overthinking and engineering concepts aside, he turns to follow, as he's 'it' and things won't be resolved until someone else is 'it' and Nathi specifically failed to call 'no tagbacks.' That he's probably making a scene doesn't enter his mind; he's on the run of the hunt.

But damn that human is fast. Too fast. Seeing Nathi's move to get towards more shallow waters, and being of a naval mind himself, the 'tosh cuts in a bit more towards the shore, trying to cut off avenues of escape that don't play to his advantages--ever see a tiger swim when it's not being lazy?

Kat almost recoiled in shock and began to move to cover herself, more a sign of surprise from her than one would think. Lor of course is dedicated to her task of observing, but even she notices and smiles in a horrible, knowing manner.
Kat of course quickly recovers, letting her arms fall to her side, then pushing herself up against the wrap, staring oddly at the strange person that seems to have fallen out of nowhere.

"Yes?" Of course, Kat isn't wearing anything to put a badge of rank or office on, so all she is now to Gregor is a surprised and half naked forest green pseudo-plant woman. Lor is in the mood to embarrass Kat in front of others, and so she waves a little sarcastically at her, Kat's response being a distinctly darker green blush.

Thress continues sitting, eyes darting about. She's the picture of stationary stress. "Rrr...yes. Active being the operative term. I'm not used to being in the open like this at all, especially with all the hoi-poloi about acting like a well-placed explosive couldn't spell the end of many countries."

As if to illustrate this, she eyeballs Maverick Monnigham as he approaches Kairis, when a beachball flying through the air with the breeze blowing on it sends it on a trajectory too close for Thress' liking. Her periphral vision barely catches sight of it heading towards Kairis and Kraah. A swift draw and depress results in the ball being punctured and floating down to earth in as sad a manner as a beachball could possibly produce.

Thress pounces on the vinyl carcass and rips it in two pieces. Inspection shows that, yes, it was only a beachball at best. Her hands hold the two seperate pieces and she looks from one to the other with a truly confused look on her face.
**********************************************************
Sshrakka nods at the introduction to Consort Tarvi. "Glad to make your acquaintance. And Colonel Bondayehr. Are you attempting to defame my impeccable record of discreet pyrotechnics?" Her dewlap expands slightly, showing a hint of purple. The Gecko-Avatar nods hos head as well, licking an eyeball with his tongue in the process.

Michael Monningham's approach doesn't go un-noticed by Sshrakka, who cues in a request for a profile on the boy. The information is silently piped into her earhole by her CommSymb, and she remains at ease, although her two fore-fingers on her left hand flex into a position prime for a knuckle-blow if it came down to it. The Empire may have SOME dealings with them, but they're still a bit irrational for my taste.

She eyeballs the children playing around and tackling the younger Keeper, and watches Tim's expression with her other eye as he looks as uncomfortable as usual dealing with his notoriety. This would be golden time to tease him, but that would be UNPROFESSIONAL! Instead, she opts to jab his shoulder with her elbow gently.

If Max is flustered by the noblewoman's wandering gaze, that confident face doesn't betray it. Then again, Max is quite confident about the 'equipment' beneath that speedo. With a slight flourish- it seems that Maxwell does most everything with just a trace of flair- the diplomat drops to one knee and accepts the extended hand and politely kisses it once before getting back upright. "Ah, such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman, though am I to assume you have a preference for a shorter form of address? And by all means, just Max is fine." Maxwell feigns distress. "I get 'Mr. Christofed' far too much as is. Indeed, I am a member of the Diplomatic Corps representing the Shogunate of Reploid Productions. Though at the moment I am merely on vacation from the rigours of representing the Lady Shogun's interests."

The lean diplomat raises an eyebrow at Petros' untimely interruption, but if fazed it doesn't show. Indeed, Max flashes a brilliant smile at the youngster. "Certainly a fine day for strolling the beach and enjoying the sights." A playful wink in Pénélope's direction. "And a fine day for a swim, if m'lady would like. The water in this region is particularly splendid for it."
---

Meanwhile, Kiara gets herself flipped to sit in the sand while Tsunami tips her head at the kids' introductions. "Sweet Goddess, you did attract some high-ranking chibis." The little drake chuckles.

Kiara finally gets her tail positioned comfortably, a bit stunned by the barrage of chatter. "Ah... no, I'm from the Shogunate, and I'm Kiara...ur..." Okay, so she's still not entirely settled into the idea of being one of the Keepers yet. "I'm kinda one of the Keepers of these weird swords, s'why I look the way I do."

"And she doesn't really fly all that well yet, either!" Tsunami helpfully adds, earning a dirty look from Kiara. "I'm a she, actually. And I do fly, rather a lot better than this newbie. Name's Tsunami, here to keep this great winged goofus out of trouble."

Tsunami emphasizes the fact with a little hop-glide back to her usual perch on Kiara's shoulder as she glances in the direction Naiya indicates. "Tim-? Holy smokes, I think I remember reading some stuff about him. Isn't he in charge of some Martian territory or other?"

Walking rather aimlessly though the beach, ruffling Fluff’s ears from time to time, Vethara finally ended up with spotting a couple familiar faces. Of course, there was Ranisath and Sirithil, the both of which she had come to know during her exile under the military junta. It was true that the Archduchess of Taraskovya and the Emperor of the C’tan had some interest in each other, but nothing worth public attention.

She spotted Nathicana, whom she had never met, but who she knew was a happy friend of her own Taraskovyan black, even if she did not remember exactly whether it was a Dakathian or a Cardinian. But the Imperatrice was not available, so the Archduchess passed by.

And then there was Minerva Karamanlis, in the old the Prime Minister of the Resurgent Dream. It was always nice to see familiar faces, especially when the familiar face hailed from the same religious community. Smiling, Vethara approached Minerva and the Sakkran by the Danaan’s side.

“Mind if I intrude?” the young woman said with a charming smile. “It is nice to meet Your Excellency again.”

And then she paused, giving a look at the Sakkran. Captain Dolgoslavov remained a certain distance away, surveying the surroundings. Pushozverek, however, was far more fascinated with the giant lizard. He gave a look at the Archduchess, who ruffled his ears.

“Shsath,” she whispered in Taraskath language, hissing softly, and the beast lost pretty much all interest with the Sakkran, lying down with a bored look.

Kairis was a bit startled when Maverick approached. She had been focusing on her Sakkran companion and had not noticed him come up. Still, she gave a pleasant smile. "If an apology was issued and the statements made during that incident formally retracted, we would be willing to resume state-to-state contact with Allanea on the normal terms. As for anything more than that, you will forgive me if I prefer to wait and see how this new and more stable policy develops before making any commitments, Mr....?"

When Vethara arrived, Kairis rose politely and with a rather warm smile. Whatever Vethara's opinion of her own import might be, the Confederals had always regarded her both as a woman of sterling character and of international importance and Kairis was certainly glad of the chance to again meet her. "It is nice to meet you as well, Your Highness. Are you acquainted with our host, Kraah, a former Sakkran Emperor and current high ranking advisor in the Empire?"

Petros, like any boy his age would have done, couldn't help taking in the Xirniumite's figure. He smiled broadly. "It is. I'm Petros, by the way." He then glanced over at Max as he introduced himself. "Reploid? Does that mean that ... well ... that you're a non-organic sentient? I don't mean to be rude but I've never met one before."

“I believe I did not have a previous honour. It is truly a pleasure to meet…” Vethara said with a charming smile, tilting her head to look up at Kraah, revealing her face from beneath the brim of her white hat. She paused for a second, not sure of the correct way to address him, and then just went for the most common way. “Uhm… Your Excellency? I believe you shall have to forgive me, the entire atmosphere does not contribute on helping one stay protocolary and remember all the correct forms of address.”

"A splendid kill, I declare," Speaker says drily, walking up behind Thress after politely excusing himself from his beloved consort. "Efficient and deadly with a true huntress' prowess. The Federated Segments of Scolopendra and the Kzin Patriarchy are forever protected from the threat of beachballs and thus forever in your debt, Director." For all the mild ribbing, he's concerned for an old friend and trying to think up something she could do, easily dropped, that could at the very least keep her occupied. "To be honest," he says in a gentler tone... well, as gentle as broken gravel gets, "one cannot live in fear forever. Even if that one well-placed bomb does happen, nations have survived assassinations before. Some have them as a matter of course. Our nations would survive, protect themselves, and... so it would go. It beats living in a bunker for the rest of one's life."

Arms akimbo, he looks over the beach. Enough philosophy, we have to actually get this hunter's instinct and hyperawareness sated. He hears Nathi, turns to wave, then sees what's going on. He knows her, remembers things from that old hunting trip, and can figure out easily enough why she's being chased by a healthy (and oh Fanged God so young) kzintosh. Well, it's worth a shot. He taps Thress lightly on the shoulder.

"Tag, you're it." Then he's off like a shot down the beach.

* - * - *

"Just Lieutenant Colonel for now, Ssh," Bondayehr says with a smile. She's already been mentioned by title, and hey, best friend in the known universe. He really can't be ultraformal when she's around. "Warship torpedoes are generally not a discreet tool," he says with a smirk, "but I figure you'd find some way of making them an effective at kneecapping should you ever find the need. 'Sides, I think my solution worked better. Warm sands, bright sun, good company, alcohol, everything one needs to have a good day."

No damage has come to the kids nor their target, which is good, but Bondayehr keeps an eye on them anyway should he have to intervene for the purposes of Truth, Justice, and getting Little Kids Out Of Other People's Hair. Conversation is a good sign, and Producers tend to be good sports. "That being said, where is the party wagon here... oh, probably over there by Old Man Kraah." He glances at Ssh, and ponders. "Ssh, I'll make a wager with you. I'll relax if you do what needs be done to not stick out like a sore thumb. Plainclothes means relaxed and natural and not necessarily constrained by regulations." Says the man who just saluted Tarvi a few minutes ago.

* - * - *

Shorty counts down the seconds to expected brushoff in her head, but looks like nothing but a smiling, professional, eager young 'ret who happens to be wearing a bikini because the service decided that, for once, comfort trumped conservatism. Well, the neckline's rather low for a kzinti affair, making it somewhat tube-toppish conservative for humans, and, well, PT shorts-slash-swimtrunks are unisex and a great place to put plenty of patch pockets. Scolopendrans and their bloody pockets.

Max laughs at the question, a pleasant sound really; not too loud and obnoxious and not a useless titter. "Contrary to the name, the Shogunate's population is primarily human and human-derivative. You can generally tell the reploids on sight; it's prohibitively expensive to make one appear and function in a convincingly organic way. And quite a lot of them tend to follow the dragon in form rather than the human." A slight gesture to where Kiara is with the kids, more particularly at the little blue mechanical dragon sitting on the woman's shoulder.

"That's a rather small one, Drakos model type. There are plenty larger reploids of the same sort, such as the Secretary of Foreign Affairs; better known as my direct superior in the Diplomatic Corps. Unfortunately, Tsume was unable to attend." Another one of those charming smiles, directed at the noble Xirnium woman. "Else I might have had the chance to play the role of the dashing knight coming to the aid of the beautiful maiden trapped by the wicked dragon. Rather that Tsume can rattle on for hours about the most dreary of subjects."

Ivan cues in on the most important word of Kiara's explanation. “Sword? Do you have it? Can we see it? My father has a sword, but he won't let me see it 'cause I might blow something up on accident like he did when he was ten, but I think he's just making that up.”

-+-+-

Tarvi nods to the newcomers and smiles. “I think you'll find, colonel – and can we drop the titles? It's a beach party, loosen up - that most kids do this without much training at all. Especially when there's something big and new to play with.” He shakes his head. At least the kids were getting along. After the Incident last month, he'd worried a bit. Granted, the little brat had bitten Ivan first, but still, hair pulling was beneath the heir to an interstellar empire.

-+-+-

“Green,” Gregor says, rubbing his head and staring at Kat. After a moment, he remembers his manners. “Sorry. I mean, hi. Sorry about almost falling on you.”

"Oh..." Petros said. He sounded a little disappointed. "It still sounds like a very interesting place to come from. I've never actually been off Earth myself although Mama says that I can go to Arteme for my next birthday if I want. I think it sounds very nice. The Governor-General of Marlund's daughter, Corrina, she used to live in Arteme although it was called Selinia then. She thinks it's a very nice place although you always feel heavy and weak on Earth if you get used to it."

He then turned towards the Xirniumite lady once more. "And where are you from, beautiful? That's a Knootian accent, isn't it?" It was an innocent question and an honest mistake. "I have been to Knootoss before but my parents didn't let me do anything fun. Papa said I wasn't old enough and that a lot of the things weren't for good Orthodox boys anyway. I was still a boy back then though. I'll be turning sixteen this year. I should be getting my own car and everything although Mama says it depends a lot on what the security people say. Maybe I could take you for a ride sometime through Knootcap?"

Naiya nods enthusiastically at Tsunami’s question, then does a little parody of coming to attention, small fist raised in the air triumphantly. “All hail the Timperium!” she says, then salutes before breaking down in a fit of giggles.

This has a surprising effect on Marcus, who looks around quickly, then tries to shush his sister with a decidedly worried expression. “Naiya, you know we’re not ‘sposed to say that. Mama said she’d ‘tan our hides’ if she heard that again. Said Zio Timo doesn’t like it.”

His sister rolls her eyes, then adopts a somewhat familiar imperious tilt of her chin. “Well Mama isn’t here, and neither is Zio Tim—“ at which point she spots said honorary uncle standing off a ways talking with some other people. “Ooops. Don’t tell, Marcus. Please don’t tell?”

Now it’s Marcus’ turn to look sly, looking over at Tim, then back to his sister. “I get your dessert then”

“No fair!”

“Ok, then I tell Mama …”

“Fine!” she snaps, pouting a bit as she kicks at the sand.

Marcus meanwhile turns his attention back to Tsunami and Kiara, once again looking a bit awestruck. “You got a sword? Is it a big one? Is it magic?” A pause, a considering look at the pair of them. “Are you magic? Is Tsunami like your magic pet like in the stories who flies around with you? Like a scors…sissor..”

“Sorceress,” Naiya interjects, which gets Marcus nodding enthusiastically.

“SO cool,” he murmurs respectfully. “Ivan, do you know those stories? Do you think she’s like that?”

=*=*=*=*=

Merde. She had to admit this was turning out more fun than she’d thought, given she hadn’t put much thought into tagging to begin with. It just seemed like a spontaneous thing that might work to get G’reer to break out a bit – and break out he had, with a vengeance. Much more effort was going to draw entirely too much attention. Besides, how bad would it be to get caught – which was going to happen pretty damn soon with how the ‘tosh was maneuvering.

Any of the various people also enjoying the water along the shore are chalked off as ‘collateral damage’ in her wake, giving folks like the Xirniumites, Reploids, FSP folk or others no more consideration than a quick wave, shouted ‘hullo’ or ‘pardon me’, and to make sure they weren’t flat-out plowed over, figuring if they were in or somewhat in the water, getting wet was risk they were willing to take anyway.

Ivan nods seriously. “She's got wings and a magic sword and a talking pet, just like my uncle who has a cat but it doesn't talk, so she's some sort of magician. Could be a witch. But she's probably a saurus, because that's another word for lizard.”

He pauses for a minute, then adds, “Also, my dad says people shouldn't threaten other people to get things like dessert. It's called...blackmail. And it's bad.”

So what do you ask when you meet such a really – but really – honest-to-god cool individual? You definitely don’t ask them how they did all that cool stuff. Had they even wanted to tell you, they can’t teach you that in a second. On the other hand, you can engage them in conversation and see what happens.

“Well, Dad thinks he’s here on business. I, on the other hand, think that he’s just making himself look silly on this beach wearing a horrible suit – I can’t see how any business can be accomplished by looking this silly.”

“So you’re on vacation now?” – smiled Michael. That’s a joke, of course. Everybody knows real-life superheroes are never really on vacation. Even when they are.

* * *

In the meanwhile, Maverich smiled politely at the Danaan. “I apologize most sincerely. I did not mean this as a business proposition. The announcement will be made when I am home, but I did not mean to spoil this wonderful day on the beach,” – he was suffering. Damn this idiotic suit. – he looked at the Taraskovyan. “Good day, Your Highness. Vethara Shakhovskaya, I presume? If I am permitted to say, you look fantastic.”

Kraah looks down on Vethra, and decides hunkering down a bit would be a good idea. His legs start to fold into themselves, with his fetlocks touching the center /rear of his thighs. The back remains straight, however. "Your Highness Vethra. Good to make your acquiantance. Here we go by title first, depending on the occasion, and then name. For instance, at present I am here under Imperial employ so to speak, and so Advisor would work. If this were a company shindig, it would be C.E.O."

Kraah eyeballs Thress and R'rit having a bit of a talky-talk and lowers his neck-crest. "And if one stands on protocol here, then this venture is a failure. We're here to meet and relax and greet others we have not met yet to increase every nation's sphere of knowledge and such." With that, he picks up his not-very-small mug. "And, of course, I am here to indulge, and blow my liver out. If your canine companion gets peckish, he can have a hunk of the roast i'm preparing. The caterers will be here soon enough for everyone's consumptual pleasure."

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

Thress feels Speaker tap her on the shoulder, and watches as he takes off like a Hhoular on the hunt. Half a beat passes before it registers in her mind just what it is that has transpired, and her role in it. I'll call it pursuit exercises and say it's good.

Her tail lifts straight out behind her as her body lowers downwards. Her rear toes fold behind her feet in an X-shape while her front toes flex and push in cooperation with her legs, propelling her through the sand. Arms are kept below her chest and her head locks in place, keeping it completely in-line with her body. Her eyes keep watch on Speaker's haunches and shoulders, looking for signs of direction-change and sudden stopping.

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

Sshrakka lets a chuff escape her nostrils. "I've actually brought an idea up with the top Ranger brass about that. I find that a torpedo with a rubber warhead would do an excellent job of discreet kneecappery. Or at least get the point across, whatever that point may be."

She listens in while standing parade rest at Tim and his offering of a deal. "Not stand out, eh?" She eyeballs the speargun slung over her shoulder, unslings it and buries it point down in the sand. "Sounds like a deal. But I swear by the Pantheon and all their bastard Scions that if I see you going stiff again, i'll have you drummed up and buried up to your neck in the sand right by the back of Ol' Man Kraah's lawnchair. Besides, I wanna try one of Doc Sclessinger's drinks. You met him briefly at Kastaa after your Incredible Journey with Her Dreadfulness."

"Hey now, Tarvi, I only kept with the titles for the introductions. Sakkran soil, Sakkran custom." Bondayehr smirks, glances over at the kids, sees the salute of the Timperium, and sighs. He lets them get away with it, although they'd been really quiet about it this go-around. Perhaps his 'opportunity for clarification' with their decidedly non-innocent parents had gone down the hill, so to speak. "Anyway, most kids do. They're better at it when they have a dedicated pouncer to train them."

Then to Michael. Seems a decent enough kid, but still, fanboy. "Well, yeah, I'm on leave for another week before they drop me into a Puma III and ship me outsystem for the next five weeks. Not much of a vacation with that looming over your head, honestly." Wry close-lipped grin. "I'm here right now because my consort is interested in making professional connections, and as you can see, so many people are heartily interested in my psychological well-being." He nudges Ssh back.

On that note. "Well, that sounds mildly unpleasant. I do remember the doctor... very vaguely... as I wasn't really feeling well at all by then. Yeah, we should go waltz over and say high--we can keep an eye on the kids from there." A glance confirms that the conversation continues without incident. "Very well then; I lead my Heroes. Tarvi, Mike, feel free to come along." And off to the party tent with him to see what's on tap. Either something that'll taste good, or sting a bit. Preferably both, as heavy drinking is not the order of the day today. Either way, Tarvi should feel honored. Any diversion from duty suggests delegation, which suggests trust.

And at least once in my life the delegation should go back up the chain of command. Unfair that it be him, perhaps, but whatever.

* - * - *

On the inland side of the beach, Speeks is enjoying having a good run not associated with daily PT. Feint right, dart left, leaving proper sprints for those moments that Thress looks just about ready to catch up. Pacing is the key to the Great Hunt, after all. Being on all fours with a mongoose's sort of snake-with-legs grace gives him plenty of opportunities to obfuscate muscular cues and melt around obstacles, but Thress is extremely well-trained and can probably see that the Supreme Emperor is intentionally directing this chase on a leftwards curve that puts it on more or less an intersecting course with a very similar one.

In this one, water flow rate is a matter of water displacement through time. Nathi, being the cybernetically augmented human she is, probably has a decent bow wave going even in the shallows; low displacement, high speed, constant time. G'reer-Captain, no less than a body-length behind, makes a series of splashes; he knows that the turbulent drag of constantly leaping in and out of the water is less than the viscous drag of trying to run through it. He's a submariner with a Horatio Hornblower mindset; he thoroughly enjoys sailing and the math behind it too. That being said, he's big and makes a lot of big, individual splashes. High displacement, high speed, impulse time.

Normally he wouldn't splash anyone sitting or meandering near the surf, but, well, target fixation has set in and Nathi's dodging of the next group by going seaward gives him the opportunity to cut landward, break the distance down to neck-and-neck, then go for the sideways pounce. Leap then scream.

Tsunami breaks into a fit of the giggles at Naiya's salute. In part because it just looks silly, and really, "Timperium" is just a funny word! She glances in the direction of the Timperator himself, head tipped to the side in a manner that suggests a quirked eyebrow.

Kiara finishes getting her wits about her- after all, one of her favorite subjects of discussion is thaumatology, and it would seem she's accidentally attracted a very interested audience. "Yes, I do own a magical sword, about thiiiiis-" She indicates a roughly 4 foot span with her hands. "-big. And I'm not really a sorceress or a witch. I started out an archaeologist, and found the sword when I was digging up some old ruins."

Okay, a very understated version of events in the Valley of Dragons, but sufficient for the age group.

"Yeah, some pretty potent magic stuff in the swords, too." Tsunami adds. "Kiara started out a boring ol' human before she got changed 'cause she keeps that sword. And I'm not a pet, or magic. Just a reploid with a fancy for studying magic stuff."

"Aaaand..." Kiara turns a slightly stern look on Marcus. "What would your mother say if she found out you were blackmailing your sister, hm?"

Rebecca, having not exactly been watching where she was going, was basically, plowed under just about the time she hit the water, three steps ahead of Bruce, who did actually manage to see Nathicana and shouted DOWN! through the secure communications link he had to his lover. She bottomed out in the water, hugging the sand, as Nathi went over top of her.

Bruce, unable to stop the headlong plunge into the water he was already committed to, found himself joining her on the bottom as he dodged the bouncing Kzin bounding along in Nathi's wake, and holding Rebecca tightly to the sand to avoid interrupting the chase, or worse, being hit by a flying mass of fur and muscle that probably outmassed him and his augmentation by half again, more probably double.

Unlike Bruce, who had had time to take a proper breath before plunging under the water and had not lost the air he had by a larger person landing on them, Rebecca quickly squirmed free, breaking the surface with a gasp to take in hurried oxygen, more from habit rather than actual need. A quick kiss assured Bruce after he surfaced that she was alright, and they both grinned at Nathi's called back apology.

That looks like more fun than a race.

The kzin makes it interesting, alright.

Pursue?

I'm game.

They broke into a run after the two, grinning, Bruce's longer legs helping him keep up with Rebecca's smaller, and therefore less dragged, form.

Marcus is again thoughtful at the comments offered by both Ivan and Kiara, though he at least has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Blackmail?” comes the first question, the term not meshing with him right off the bat. “Well, no, it isn’t really nice, but neither is doing things you’re not ‘sposed to,” he finally reasons in all seriousness. “And losing a dessert isn’t as bad as getting in trouble …”

Naiya even nods at that, her eyes scanning the beach to try and see where the object of said line of thought has gotten off to.

“And if Mama found out I was um, blackmailing Naiya, she’d find out why I was, and we’d both be in trouble, and neither one of us would get dessert,” Marcus further reasons.

“So maybe we should both shh and both get dessert?” Naiya asks him in an innocent tone, while giving it the lie with a sly sidelong look.

“Maaaaaaaaybe,” Marcus says dubiously, then brightens again. “So … you going to show us that magic sword? And can you show us any tricks with it?”

“And Tsunami, can you tell us about magic stuff?” his sister adds in, looking hopeful as they both promptly forget about trouble and the like, and focus back on the fun stuff.

“Ivan, you know magic people? That is awesome!” Marcus says belatedly, now that he’s not getting chewed out. “They do all those things for real? Can you do things too? Can your dad?”

“We don’t have magic stuff,” Naiya says sadly. “There was a nice old man who used to show us tricks at Mama’s office in town, and there’s the people who do the shows, but it isn’t real. Not like you guys. Show us, please?”

=*=*=*=*=*=

“Wait, wha?” Nathi mutters out loud, seeing a streak of running Kzin where one shouldn’t be, given the close and closing pursuit behind her. She makes the mistake of looking back, then looking forward again, eyes widening as she sees the rather large Sakkran in pursuit of what must be Speeks, given current attendance. She goes to veers away, which will take her right back into the deeper water, which will slow her down, which she knows is going to result in the inevitable, which is preferable, she hopes, to getting sandwich-smashed between a half ton of combined ‘toshes.

Of course the hit comes sooner than she thinks given G'reer's change in tactics, and she goes down with a shriek that's soon cut off by going under the water, arms flailing.

Katt, just as she's about to respond, gets a message, rather, order from the Comm she's hidden in her 'hair', typical of her luck she thinks, 'Serious Business(TM)' Alliance level happenings. Still, by virtue of her being here in the first place, she's allowed to ignore it, if only for a moment. And so, without missing a beat, she rests on her side facing Gregor and responds with "Almost isn't good enough! Hello to you too!", the nigh on permanent sugar high effect her people get from exposure to a sun only emphasized with her practically bathing in it today.

Lor, being who she is is rather more interested with the seemingly high society gathering going on around them than the half naked people around the place, even if some of them, least of all Katt, are rather amusing and or attractive.
She ceases observing, if only for a moment, to lazily drift towards the water, because by $diety, she's going to enjoy a moment to herself, swimming nowhere in particular fast.

Tsunami flashes a toothy grin at Kiara. "You're not going to get a moment's peace unless you show off your stabby shiny and some pretty tricks, you realize?" The little drake puffs up like a teacher about to address a class once asked about magic. "Well, the magic I study is mostly mind over matter and life-based energy. The short version is that everything and anything gives off some of this energy, and living creatures give off more of it. People with the right talents and training can tap into that and do nifty things."

Again, a rather watered down version, but hopefully enough to satisfy the given audience. While Tsunami plays teacher, Kiara heaves a sigh and holds one hand out, closing her eyes in concentration. It's a relatively simple bit of magic, and with a suitably pleasing bit of magicky sparklies the weapon appears in her grasp. The weapon positively gleams in the sunlight, striking sparkles and flashes as the light glints off the curves and edges of the very decorative blade.

"I'm not going to show off any fancy magic with the sword." She explains, laying the blade flat across her free hand. "It's very sharp, and very dangerous. But this is one of the twelve magic blades, even though only eight of them currently have keepers."

"C'mon, Kiara, show the chibis some real magic, hm?" Tsunami teases. "Newbie or not, you do have a knack for it since that fiasco in the Slaglands!"

Revenge for the earlier jabs about her flying is swift and unexpected as Kiara recalls one of the tricks she'd learned from the Bretheren of Shade at Tsunami's reminder. Her entire body glows softly, the difference all but lost in the bright sunlight, and with a yelp Tsunami falls right through the now-intangible Keeper and faceplants into the sand.

"Ta-da!" The now slightly translucent Kiara grins as Tsunami scoots from where she fell to a spot of sand not being occupied by anything tangible or otherwise. "Pretty neat, huh?"

God I love being back beneath the waves! At first the water had be a bit disorientating, with the waves tossing him about and pulling him to and fro. Then he'd made it past the breakers and into calmer waters. Gone was the whirlwind of water, instead it had been replaced be the gentle push of the current. He'd made it about a half mile out before he adjusted his diving vest for negative buoyancy. He could have simply swam for the bottom, but that was a long process and he didn't fell like doing the extra work. When he finally hit bottom he guessed his depth to be about 200 meters. Damn, 180 meters, I'm getting rusty. A quick check of his diving gauge corrected his earlier estimate.

Okay, lets see... The current wasn't to strong so the beach should be... That way. Fixing the location of the beach in his mind he began a meandering walk along the bottom back towards the beach. Taking his time and looking around he found many interesting things, from local flora and fauna to debris and even coming across some old small craft wreckages. About a quarter mile from the breakers he found something of great interest.

Whoa, this has gotta be one big shellfish bed. I wonder... Pulling his diving knife he pried one of the bivalves loose and pop'd it into his maw. With a noisy CRUNCH he cracked its shell and swished the meaty/shelly mix across his taste buds before spitting out the mess in a gory cloud. Wow, I was right, these are clams, they're pretty healthy by the taste. Reaching into his vest he extracted a rather large mesh bag and began to fill it with the choice clams, taking care not to overtake from one area.

Well, I hope there are no game wardens around, and I gotta repay the people at the beach party for all the beer. I hope they like a clam bake. Once the bag was respectably full he began to make a beeline for beach, but something caught his eye. A shimmering sparkle peaked out from the sands, unlike that from glass or plastics. Reaching out with his free grasper he pulled at the object.

Jebuz, this thing is friggin heavy! Cas swung his tail around and wrapped it around the object as well. Bracing himself he gave it a might tug, almost losing his balance as it broke free. Hello hello, what do we have here? It was a large candelabra, splendidly decorated and fashioned. And it was made of solid gold. Now THIS oughta get some attention. With his pleasant finds, albeit a bit heavy, he continued his march to shore.

"Wow!" "You mate with all of these females?" "You must have a lot of pups!" "Children?" "Yes, children! How many do you have?" The otterkin squirted up Kestrel's chest and around her neck to perch on the opposite shoulder, tail draped down her chest like a furry pendant. Whiskers twitched as it nosed towards the other women present. "You all smell so different!"

The other flipped from person to person, whiskers twitching wildly and occasionally balancing with one paw on a human leg. "Yes! You must be from all over the place!"

"Introductions! Katryna said we should tell people who we are!" "Yes!" "She's Paige and I'm Sega!" "She's Sega cause she likes video games." "You smell like the forest." Sega pointed at Siri. "You smell like spicy food!" Paige said as she slipped off Kestrel's shoulder and went over to Ranisath. "And you smell like... like metal. Like our home!" "Do you live on a station too?" "Or on a space ship like Admiral Fidelo does?"

----

Fidelo waved at Nathicana and stepped inside one of the colorful tents marked with what he took to mean restroom. It had been a long time since he had seen her. Mars in fact, and it had been a while since he'd been there too. Having taken care of his business he stepped outside to find her nowhere in sight. The sounds of a commotion reached his ears though and he turned to see a group of adults pounding through the waves. Looking closer he spotted Nathi about to be pounced and a grin crossed his face.

"Which puts the bar right between me and them..."

Wandering generally in the direction of the action and with a definate slide towards the bar he sauntered off in search of something fruity.

Thress took mental notes of Speaker's tricks during the chase. Flexing muscles that normally would indicate a shift in direction and then going the opposite way, or no direction change at all. Excellent muscular control. I can't rely on those cues. I'll have to go by instinct. She runs on her toes, letting her legs dip into the water straight down to minimize resistance and drag. I'll just have to wait until fatigue starts setting in. Better put some pressure on. She doesn't put on any bursts of speed, preffering a slow build-up as to not exhaust her own muscles from a sprint.

She spots Nathi being chased, approaching from her 12. Behind her was an unknown K'zin, and she makes calculations for their vector of approach. If they continue their path, they'll skirt by us. Should allow for a vector change, though. I might have to jump over them if it comes to it. It doesn't happen, however, as the pouncing K'zin brings down his target. Thress turns her head to minimize wind drag as she heads for shallower waters. Have to try and herd him into deeper water.

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

Sshrakka, meanwhile, heads over to the banquet table with Tim and his cadre of Heroes in tow. Her eyes being positioned where they are afford her a 320 degree field of vision, and so she can keep her eyes on everyone around except for just behind her. She spies what looks like a slightly deflated Doc sitting on the sand a short way away from the party proper. "Joel! You've abandoned your post!"

Sclessinger lifts up his head from the arm it was resting on, and waves weakly. "Oh, my. Looks like his in his cups slightly." Her eye also manages to spot the 'newt' from Terran Tribes breaking surf at that moment, and wielding something. "Now there is an unknown quantity. Ever seen one of them before?"

Vethara mentally thanked Kraah for taking the burden of getting a bit more to her level of 174 centimeters, no heels. It was not always obvious talking to somebody towering a good half a meter above you.

“I am not here in any official capacity, Advisor,” the woman said. “And I have to admit that I am not particularly insistent on protocol in a cosy and relaxed atmosphere myself. I just was not particularly sure of all the technicalities until you have clarified the situation. But pray, call me Vethara, without any titles or styles.”

She gave a look at Pushok, who lifted his eyes a bit to stare at the woman. "My companion here? His name is Pushok. Fluff, if you will. When I first had him as a pup two years ago, he was little, adorable and cute. Now he is gigantic and has the appetite of an ogre. So, yes, I am sure he will not mind some meat."

It was then that she was adressed by the Allanean, which made her arch an eye brow. That an Allanean thought she looked fantastic was a little bit worrying, considering the general mentality of the aforementioned nationals. But then again, a compliment was always a compliment.

“Indeed, it is me," she said with a smile. "The one and only, Vethara Skakhovskaya, Archduchess of Taraskovya." She paused for a second. "Just call me Vethara. Or Panna Shakhovskaya if you want to remain officialish."

Michael followed Bondayehr, making yet another plan to improve his enjoyment of the day. Once they have arrived at the party tent, he positioned himself in such a way that his body obscured from some observer – say, Miriam Monningham – what he was doing. Then, with a quick set of motions that showed he was used to doing that, he replaced his juice with some similarly-colored alcoholic drink. By the time he had turned around, his mother – or anybody else – would have trouble noticing what had happened.

He winked conspiratorially at Timofeyev. “My parents are a bit… stuffy sometimes. So only a week’s vacation? Ouch. I have a cousin in the Army, and he sometimes gets vacations that are only five days. That’s because he works in a fortress though – probably you’d find that very boring.” – he looks carefully at the kzin that is playing catch with Nathicana. “See there. That’s the famous Nathicana D’Aquisto. She’s most literally the queen of stuffy. And yet there she is, playing catch with a Kzin. My parents are roasting on a beach in suits. See what I mean?” – he grunts in frustration, happy to find someone – especially the Bondayehr to lisen to his complaint.

* * * *

Unaware of his status as the Stuffiest Man in the Multiverse, Monningham smiles at the black wolf and it’s owner. “This, I must admit, is the best-looking Taraskovyan Black I’ve seen in a while. I thought they don’t work well as pets

Monningham was really into wolves – he owned pictures of wolves, books about wolves, and even a painting of one in his home in the Segments – three by four meters, in fact. And though the Taraskovyan wolf wasn’t his favorite species, he knew enough about them to look polite and knowledgeable.

"You are correct, Pan Maverick, Taraskovyan blacks do not work as pets at all," Vethara said, frowning. "But they make for loyal friends, if such loyalty is reciprocated. Do not expect Pushok here to go fetch a frisbee just for your own amuzement," she added with a smile. "He will only do so if he is bored and has no other exercise to undertake."

At the mention of his name, Pushozverek raised his head and looked at the Archduchess. Then his eyes fixed Monningham, studying the potential target. Indeed, there was a little note in Vethara's voice which indicated that she was not impressed by the Allanean, yet nothing that a human could make out. Fluff, however, could. After the study was complete, the beast rested his head back on his paws, awaiting further developments.

"Only on the outside," muttered, is Timofeyev's only commentary when Nathi is pointed out. "No, this is the last week of the standard month off. The rotation schedule goes five months on, one off. Works fine for meshing with ship maintenance schedules and the like." That having to deal with it chronically when the Segments aren't in a state of war with anyone who already's been programmed into STRATAT read-only memory cartridges to be atomized at the press of a button is somewhat aggrivating... he leaves unsaid. It's not conducive to relaxing, and right now the 'penance' of watching Nathi's kids isn't so much a burden with friendly people about. "Oh, don't give the doctor such a hard time. I can tend bar myself if need be." Helping himself, pineapple juice plus Jägermeister equals a Chuck Jäger. Some very high-proof vodka later, and it's an Afterburning Chuck Jäger. Add in some frozen crushed strawberries from the requisite daquiri mixes scattered about and shake, and it's an Afterburning Chuck Jäger Redout.

Okay, so only the basic Chuck Jäger is what he learned from the real fighter pilots. The rest just sort of naturally follows, though.

Concerning Nathi. This is about the point where she gets tackled by a quarter ton of fur and muscle. Being built to last, and in the water, this shouldn't be much of a problem, but much splashing ensues.

This splashing Speeks uses to his advantage by suddenly darting right the instant he passes it and heading into the deeper water like Thress intended... but with a proper shallow dive, breaking into the water like a lunging tiger and swimming like one not lazily paddling about, under the surface. The only better swimmer in the DiploCorps was Hesche, and the 'tosh does a hairpin around the foam and spray that is the G'reer/Nathi collision and heads on a reverse course, betting on the chaos and seawater to cover his trail.

Then there's the matter of the two SPs following the chase. The Director will have to maneuver around them too, most like. Heh heh.

The viscountess smiled a little as Maxwell complimented her on her beauty. She accepted his words in the manner of one quite accustomed to such remarks, having heard them all a great many times before.

‘Pray call me Pénélope,’ she explained offhandedly, moving a few strands of hair from her face. It was only polite to extend to him the same courtesy that he had shown her.

Maxwell’s decided lack of embarrassment impressed the Xirniumite noblewoman, who had expected at least a tiny hint of discomfit. Still, she was not quite disheartened, for Pénélope rather enjoyed a challenge. Unlike Petros, the viscountess was actually a little relieved to hear that Maxwell was not an android. It would not be unfair to say that Pénélope had more than a healthy amount of suspicion where non-humans were concerned, tolerant though she might privately think herself.

Pénélope burst into laughter as Maxwell spoke of her as a damsel in distress, and he a brave knight errant come to slay the evil dragon. It was an amused laugh, shrill and strident, with a ringing, musical quality. The smile that graced her pretty mouth seemed almost to make the noblewoman’s dazzling fair skin glow vibrantly, and Maxwell smelt the heady scent of jasmine.

‘I’m sure he’s not nearly as bad as you claim,’ she grinned.

The Xirniumite noblewoman was a little unsure of whether or not she should take offence at the young boy’s tone with her, and bristled a bit at being addressed as “beautiful”. Petros seemed much too familiar with her, took far too great a liberty, but he was only a child, after all. Pénélope smiled politely at him, all the same.

‘I’m actually from Neúvenärta, in the south of the Xirniumite Republic,’ Pénélope explained. ‘But yours was a fair guess, I suppose.’

Pénélope tried her best to hide her amused giggling as the Danaan adolescent offered to take her for a drive through Knootcap, slender hand held over her small mouth. It was a rather cruel laugh, she reflected later, and she chided herself for it.

‘Oh I’m sure that I should like nothing more,’ she grinned, winking a little at Maxwell.

Ivan is suitably impressed by the sword, and laughs when Tsumani hits the sand. “Can you do more? What about a fireball? Or a lightning bolt! Like the Lizard-King in Magnus Hesche and the Scourge of Io! Please?”

-+-+-

“Hmm.” Tarvi ends up staying with the group, because he knows enough about Keepers to recognize that the kids are in good hands, they won't be out of sight anyways, and a drink sounds really good. Besides, someone has to help Tim with the overgrown puppy that seems to be following him around.

Glancing over at Nathi, he says to the Allanean, “You clearly haven't actually met the dear imperatrice...Michael, was it? I'd disagree with stuffy even in human terms, but believe me, even her worse is nothing compared to Governor-General Byzainti when she gets bitchy in Council meetings.”

-+-+-

Gregor smiles and hold out his hand. “Gregor. Pleasure to meet you, ma'am. If I may be so bold, what's with the nice color?”

As they approached the newcomer Lord Nefarious felt the noblewoman unconsciously tighten her grip on his arm, noticing her draw a little closer and stiffen at his side almost imperceptibly. Élisabeth bit her lower lip as she looked thoughtfully at the creature, endeavouring to make up her mind as to what she should do. The Scolopendran had not yet uttered a single word, and its silence was beginning to annoy the noblewoman greatly.

Clearing her throat with a sort of refined, patrician cough, Élisabeth politely inclined her head a little towards the newcomer, a gesture that caused her shower of golden curls to shimmer slightly. The noblewoman forced a more or less pleasant-looking smile, although it was not nearly as lovely as the one she had shown to Damien.

‘Good day to you,’ spoke Élisabeth, the artificial brightness of her voice contrasting markedly with her mood. She was rather struck by the acute absurdity of her position; here Élisabeth was, a society lady, greeting what amounted to an overgrown cat.

The baroness considered inquiring if they might be of any assistance to the creature, but on reflection thought such a question cool and unfriendly. Instead, Élisabeth made a rather trite observation on the loveliness of the day’s weather, before turning her nervously blinking eyes towards her companion in search of some kind of support.

Kraah looks at Fluff again. Well, he's not like the Hhoul-hounds back home, but he's got a charm of his own. "Well, I can't let a fine companion like this go hungry on my watch." He procures a carving blade and a two-pronged fork and turns in time to see Tim and Sshrakka arriving and mixing their drinks.

He converses as he cuts a sizeable chunk of the roast. "Well, well. If it ain't ol' Admiral Snapjaw's oldest. How's things in the shady side of the Known Systems?" The chunk is cut and offered to Fluff on a platter. It looks to be about a good 4 lb hunk.

Sshrakka looks up as she mixes herself a Headhunter. "Now you know if she heard you call her that it'd be a fight, ol' Leatherback. You're looking a bit long in the tooth there these days." She puts a crazy-straw in her drink, complete with cocktail umbrellas, and drinks slowly. She winks at Tim as she does so.

Kraah waves his hand dismissively as he regains his seat. "Ah, whaddaya kids know. As long as you keep out of trouble, I don't have to hear about it at all ungodly hours of the night. So then, Vethara...." A couple klicks of his fingers results in some additional seating being provided, as well as a pair of extra umbrellas. ".....what brings you and yours to our beach aside from surf, sand and suds, if I may pry?"

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

Thress was still on the chase. She managed to Herd Speaker like she wanted, but his diving into the water and the subsequent chaos caused he rto lose sight of him for a moment. Mental calculations as to speed and probable trajectory were formed in her mind, as well as the target's psyche exhibited so far.

Using the claws on her toes for extra gripping, she managed a running skid around the foaming, splashing obstacle. A quick "Whoops, on the chase" and she sped up after circling the group, reversing her direction. Her eyes follow telltale ripplings and water disturbance not caused by the collision. She stands still for a moment, cursing the faom. Nictitating membranes slide over her eyes as she dunks her head to get a less obstructed view, and spies the shadow of the great rat-cat going off in a different direction. Ah ha! you've been made! She heads back up on the firmer sand of the waterline and gives chase once again.

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

Joel managed to clear his head of all the newness, and too much of it, of everything. He stands and walks back to the table opposite Ehrron. "Quite a grouping, eh?" Ehrron (http://www.5amfunnies.com/portfolio/Illustrations/Hrubban.jpg) (the one on the drum) seems to be completely in his element, giving a closed-lipped ear to ear smile as he mixes drinks in a shaker.

Joel shakes his head slowly, clearing the last of the fugue from it. "Yeah, it's a real good mess here alright." He picks up a pair of large spoons and begins tossing a half-prepared fruit salad in a large bowl. "If this keeps up, i'm going to have to be on the clock in no time flat."

Max snickers at the remark about the absent Tsume. "I fear, m'lady that he is all that and worse when he's of a mind to be difficult. If given the chance, I fear he could talk anyone's ear off about trivial nonesense and the fine print of international treaty. I've little patience for such details, which is why I get to play the public face of the Diplomatic Corps; most people are rather put off by a six foot mechanical beast walking into a meeting."

Being a quick and observant is a mandatory requirement in the DipCorps, and the shrewd diplomat is far from oblivious to Pénélope's annoyance with Petros and the young man's ongoing presence. "Ah, Petros, was it? Terribly sorry, but the Lady Pénélope and I are likely to be discussing sensitive.... diplomatic business, ill suited to young ears. If you would be so kind-?" Not one to be rude, Maxwell clearly intends to give the teen the chance to retire from the conversation gracefully. "There seems to be a rather international game of tag in progress you might enjoy, I see."

This last is emphasized with a slight nod in the direction of the very splashy game of what seems to be tag that just splashed by, peppering Max's bare back with a fine spray of saltwater.
---

Kiara glances around, letting her form go solid again after a moment. "Eh... fireballs and lightning? That's really not the sort of thing for crowded public places like beaches. 'Specially with antsy security types around."

Anticipating a triple-pout however, she comes up with another trick that might be almost as neat as explodey fireballs of DOOM. And less likely to get security personnel on her scaly arse. She scoops a handful of the sand up, closing her fist around the primarily quartz and feldspar grit. "I think this might be cooler than lighting stuff on fire though."

The weapon in her other hand practically hums as it resonates with the Keeper's magicworking, and a moment later the fistful of sand has been fused into a single slightly cloudy crystal of quartz. If she felt like being fancy, she could have formed a finer gem, but it's far simpler a task magically to change quartz grit into a single quartz crystal.

"There we go." Kiara grins and holds the stone out to the kids. "Who wants to guess what this does, and try it first?"

As they faced the Scolopendran, Nefarious was surprised that she had not uttered a word, especially as she had made the first move. He was just about to walk passed, assuming that it was not them that the Scolopendran was interested in, when his companion spoke a greeting. He gave a small smile of surprise, having noted the Baroness' apparent apprehension.

Lord Nefarious still found it strange when he came face to face with the other inhabitants of the planet. Tartarus was primarily human and they did not mix with other species on a daily basis. Still, he was a diplomat and knew how to behave in polite society, so he plunged straight in with a formal greeting, despite their informal setting.

“I am Damien, Lord Nefarious of Tartarus,” he introduced himself before indicating his companion. “And this is Baroness Élisabeth Vêrtha Alätégiel of House Angláthäng. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He looked at the Scolopendran, wondering if it would decide to speak to them now that they had made their greetings.

Patience is a virtue and its own reward, no matter whether you're pagan, Christian, or a follower of the Fanged God. Shorty bows politely upon acknowledgement, tail and ears flicking a bit at her own bit of diplomatic judo. No, she doesn't know either one of them, and barging right on in would have been rather rude and easily brushed off. 'Pendrans can usually tell aristocrats from a good country mile off. Instead, by simply presenting the option, she lets curiosity and concern take over and by forcing them to take the first step when it comes to acknowledgement, essentially requires them to invest some sort of effort in the conversation, even if it is merely polite banter about the weather.

Besides, what's the worst that can happen? "And I am Diplomatic Officer Embassy-Representative of the Federated Segments of Scolopendra,"--another wink of the ears, and a smile thin-lipped by the limitations of physiology--"Your Royal Highness, Your Excellency." Each in turn and their due. "The pleasure and honor is all mine." Important people from important countries, yeah, it's a fair statement. "Being assigned to the Dominion, the Imperatrice invited me to today's event and I'm quite glad: while the weather is nice, the company is better. Do you mind too greatly if I join you for a while?"

Only a while, and then I can leave you two alone, of course being the quietly unspoken subtext. Always offer the option of an out, and never impose too much, especially after forcing someone to make the first move. Kid stuff. One thing she certainly doesn't call attention to is the current plight of her patroness, although she does sigh internally that she's the only ratcat in the area acting in a professional manner.

Which means, of course, just like Bondayehr, she's doing it wrong.

* - * - *

Speeks, her superior in more ways and even chains of command than one, bobs his head up for air and a quick view before ducking back down, flipping lithely and quite literally skimming the bottom with the tips of his paws in another reversal of direction... then another, literally slipping right behind the G'reer/Nathi tumble, so the whole sandwich thing she feared came to pass anyway, albeit fleetingly. Even if Thress does happen to be on firm(er) ground, she still has to act perpendicularly to the old 'tosh's leap out of the water, making a break for the shore. It won't count if she doesn't actually manage to touch him, after all...

* - * - *

That the Keeper has a bloody whacking great sword around the kids, oddly enough, doesn't bother Bondayehr much at all. Oh, they've been taught how to respect weaponry, given how they've all seen him and his Rolled Up Blanket of Pain and Destruction. He feels relatively confident that his attempts to teach them respect for firearms and sharp things haven't fallen on deaf ears.

The Afterburning Chuck Jäger Redout doesn't last long at all in this heat, and he figures that will do fine for getting his drink on at the moment. Finding the banter between Snapjaw's oldest and Leatherneck quite amusing, he takes up the cutlery once the old Advisor's done, slices himself off a bit, then spears it on an obsidian knife he produces from a sheath hidden in his shorts of many pockets. "Hey, Ssh, remember this?" Bites off a chunk and watches the kids more idly, looking a bit less the bodyguard himself. "Hasn't left my person since."

Fluff sat and watched the proceedings with much attention, his eyes quite obviously revealing that he was not against the fact of two kilograms worth of good smelling meat be placed in front of him. He was very supportive of such a motion, in fact. He then lay down again, covering the chunk with a paw and began his meal quite enthusiastically. Soon, the happy munching and smashing of bones by powerful jaws and sharp teeth could be heard.

Vethara only grinned at her canine friend as she took a seat near the Advisor, relaxing a bit. She gave a glance at Captain Dolgoslavov, who also moved over and began fixing himself a drink, even if one could notice he was staying off any alcohol.

“I must admit that I am here for surf, sun and sand. And maybe suds. Although I admit I am not particularly good at surfing. I am very bad at it, in fact,” she said with a smile concentrating her attention at the Sakkran again. “My friends simply insisted I go relax somewhere new, instead of the usual Taraskovyan resorts of Uthar, Kidaksh, Lagoon, New Crimea and others. So, here I am, much to the annoyance of our national tourist lobby.”

“It really is magic enough to change you?” Marcus asks in awe as the sword appears, taking a little step back, eyes wide while looking it, and the Keeper over quite appreciably. Both children did indeed understand about weapons and why they were ‘do not touch, only look’ sorts of things, between Zio Timo, Nathicana herself, and Devon’s admonishments, though Tim’s admittedly were a bit more impressive.

Naiya’s expression grew more thoughtful, especially at the mention of Keeperless blades, and while Marcus lets out an excited whoop at Kiara’s ‘trick’, his sister seems to be watching closely, as if trying to puzzle it out, though it’s clear she too is quite impressed.

They both perk up at Ivan’s suggestion of fireballs and lightning, jumping up and down and joining along with the begging, only to let out a chorus of disappointed ‘awwwww’s as Kiara explains just why that wouldn’t be such a great idea. Still, the promise of other tricks soon quiets all that, and they watch expectantly.

“Leandro used to show us tricks with things,” Naiya says quietly, tentatively reaching out to touch the newly-formed crystal with one finger, head tilted curiously.

“Does it glow?” Marcus pipes up excitedly. “Can you throw it and make it go boom? Does it ‘splode?”

“Can you see things with it,” Naiya adds in, still thoughtful as she looks at the stone closely. “And how do you know if people can do magic? Is it just magic people who can have one of those swords? How come there’s some without Keepers? How do you choose new ones?”

Clearly her little mind is working overtime on all of this.

*=*=*=*=*

Nathi, being possessed of a decidedly competitive streak, grapples and wrassles with G’reer as best she can considering the circumstances, laughing when able, rather enjoying not having to be anyone but another beach-going reveler just having fun. Even if it said fun is cybernetically enhanced. It isn’t cheating after all, it’s evening the odds. There’s a momentary burst of more frantic effort as she gets sammiched between the two ‘toshes, simply a reaction to trying to avoid any sort of pinning.

Ok, so tag doesn’t usually result in wrestling around in the water, but it was all in good fun, and until he took off again, having rightfully tagged, she was going to take advantage of said fun.

“Wow” – said Michael – “It’s a real obsidian knife, isn’t it? But I thought they went blunt really fast, Mr. Bondayehr? Is it…” – he paused for a second – “is it magic? I mean, like there are magical knives that don’t go blunt, not like dragon-slayer-magic.”

Which was when Miriam Monningham arrived on the scene. She was looking rather stern – especially as the heat made her feel extremely annoyed, and she was nervous, too. With her left hand, she was literally dragging Marusia along, who struggled to keep up in her long, narrow skirt. “Michael! What do you think you’re doing here, in this shirt! I am terribly sorry, Mr. – you’re the Bondayehr, aren’t you? I am so horribly about my son, he’s a bit… wild sometimes.”

Katt grins of course, her first, and natural thought is to do something rather obscene. Still, despite instincts and appearance, she extends a hand and shakes Gregor's with all the feeling and firmness that yes, she is a diplomat, and no, half naked forest green pseudo-plant people aren't excluded from that. She considers his question for a moment, responding
"It's natural! About as natural as possible, too." And she's correct, though it doesn't really vary as much as human's skin colour.(to outsiders, anyway) Variations in the skin colour of an individual is another story entirely. Areas such as the soles of the feet are obviously naturally darker, as are the lips, almost looking like a permanent shade of lip colouring of some kind.

"Name's Kat! Pleased to meet you too!" She stares at the fact that he'd just well, tripped and spilled his beverage, and arches an eyebrow.
"Drink a little strong for you?"

Petros looked around for a moment, opening his mouth slightly. His father and his little brother were playing a few hundred yards down. His mother was sitting with a large Sakkran and a beautiful woman who appeared fairly young. He didn't know anyone else here. Quietly he walked down the beach a short way, thinking to himself.

Magic? Now that, indeed, was going a bit too far. As far as he knew, nothing magical had ever been attributed to him. "Errr... no, I'm afraid it's not magic. Obsidian, like anything else, only goes badly dull if you thwack it repeatedly against things harder than it. I just tend not to use it on anything harder than flesh and a good polishing will sharpen it up just fine." It's gone through bone a few times too no worse for wear; bone isn't 5.5 on the Mohs scale. "Still used in scalpels in some places, if I recall correctly." He shrugs and puts it back into its sheath, which goes into one of the many pockets on his PT swim shorts.

That obsidian knife is one of the naturally sharper things in his entire arsenal. One of the 'don't touch' demonstrations basically consisted him dropping it from a meter point down into a nice hard watermelon. Buried itself to the hilt with hardly a sound. 'And that's about how tough your head is.' Besides that, weapons are tools and like all tools are only safe in the hands of people who know how to weild them. Anything past that and vital gun safety (bolt open, no pointing, so on and so forth) he felt he didn't have the authority (and, really, didn't have the will) to teach. If Nathi taught them how to plink since then, all well and good.

Anyway, back to the here and now with Mike. "Yeah, uh, definitely nothing magical or beyond the pale here. I'm not Magnus Hesche." He idly takes another bite of meat as if he'd rather be talking about something else. "So, ah, done any swimming yet?"

And then la madre de la familia shows up with the same 'the' line, distracting him from his duty to idly watch the kids. "Err, there's no problem here, ma'am." Tread carefully. He immediately goes into friendly diplomatic mode. "I'm certainly not bothered, and I don't think anyone here's going to be dreadfully embarrassed by your son's attire." That poor girl in that skirt... and I mean, come on, there's a nude green woman just that way. Kids still good? Quick check. Good. "Is there anything I can help you with? A drink, perhaps? It's something of a hot day and you honestly look like you could do with something cool, if you don't mind my saying so, ma'am."

* - * - *

Grappling and this sort of resistance was sort of unexpected, but the pounce had been made and by the pricking of his ears G'reer-Captain realizes he's making something of a scene. Well, if he's going to make a scene, he's going to do it Heroically, and if she wants to grapple, well... this gives him the opportunity to give himself an advantage. Without warning he hefts her up over his head, switching holds from hands to lower ribs, and bodily chucks her out to sea with an emphatic 'chuff' of effort. "You're it!" Immediately after he turns tail and bounds off, pausing for an instant in recognizing Speaker-Rrit, ears blanching deathly white, then running extremely quickly about forty-five degrees off of Speaker's present course. He hadn't seen me. It wasn't an unHeroic thing to do, was it? Oh Fanged God...

Actually, Speeks would've thought it quite clever. Not exactly in the rules of tag, nor perhaps exactly in the spirit, but no harm done and when the aim of the hunter is to be prey then one must make oneself a difficult prey. And she did grapple first.

From the shore, H'zta just starts laughing. Can't pay to see stuff this fun.

Thress continues watching and pacing back and forth, ready to dart at an instant if signs showed Speaks making a dash for it. It seemd, however, that he was content trying to throw her off in the chaos of the grappling pair. And she thinks she gets her moment when Speaks makes a dash for the shore out of the tumult. She runs perpendicular to him, adjusting her angle to allow her to inch closer. just when she had the timing right, she thought, she leapt at a point when she thought she'd just barely managed to 'tag' him.

A slight burst of speed threw of fher calculations, however, and she came up with a hand full of sand for her troubles. "Vrelte!" A quick tumble and roll, and she managed to get back on her feet and continue the chase.

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

Sshrakka looks at the obsidian blade for a second. "Wow. So you still have yours as well? I still have he skull from that time. I've had it kiln-fired and glazed at this point. Makes an excellent salad bowl." She watches as Tim puts it away again, noting his clumsy response to the Allanean lad's query. Well, with this crowd it wouldn't be too much a stretch to think that.

And then the boy's mother shows up, and she sees Tim take a decidedly different face. At this, she keeps one eye on the charges Tim has undertaken as they play with the Keepers. "You can do your diplomatic duty, Tim. I'll eyeball the hatchlings there." Her head indicates Marcus and Naiya watching with total awe at Kiara's tricks.

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

Kraah lets out a loud, sharp laugh. "One of a leader's greatest joys, in my findings, is to confound their subordinates from time to time. Keeps 'em on their toes! Otherwise they'd run roughshod all over you and have every iota of your waking life planned out for you. What a drag! 's probably why my predecessor decreed all Emperor's retire at 200 years so they can enjoy some of their life before they're too old to do it."

He takes a hunk of meat of his own on a stake, and throws the whole thing down his throat, followed by a pair of gizzard stones. "It's a good thing in a number of ways for us here. Keeps the servitors from getting bored and gossipy, keeps the people from dealing with a senile ruler, keeps politicians from becoming TOO corrupt, and it lets me see the results of what i've worked for with my own eyes as a citizen."

"Mmhm." Kiara nods at the mention of change. "And it wasn't very fun, either. 'Specially since I didn't know it was coming. Kinda like being pricked aaaall over with sharp pointy needles while getting punched in the back with a flamethrower. And then I had to learn all sorts of things all over again. Even walking was totally different with these-" She stretches one scaly leg out to emphasize the reptillian anatomy and talons.

To be fair, it's again a very tame description; but then, Kiara's usual description of that particularly life-altering night generally involves a great deal of language she doesn't want to use around small children.

"She still has trouble getting dressed in the morning!" Tsunami teases, tugging lightly on the outermost bone of one red wing to spread it. "But then, it's not easy to stick these into a shirt."

Kiara sends the little mechanical dragon for a brief tumble when she snaps the wing shut again, and grins at the kids' guesses about the little crystal. "I can kinda... urm... well, see it when somebody does magic. As far as I know, anybody can weild one of the swords, and the magic just kinda rubs off on 'em over time until they get changed. We aren't immortal, so some of the Keepers have died, and the swords just haven't been claimed by anybody. I think right now the oldest Keeper chooses who from the School of the Arts gets to have one."

When Naiya touches the stone it does, in fact, glow. However, the glow forms itself into a little sphere of harmless white light that floats in the air between the kids and the Keeper, wobbling and shifting until it resembles a miniature translucent dragon.

"And that-" Kiara waves a hand through the light-serpent. "-should respond to what you think at it while holding the rock. So if you want it to... say, chase a seagull, you just think about it a bit, and it'll go where you want it to."

Of course, it probably hasn't entirely occured to the Keeper what else clever young minds might do with a magicly-controlled non-corporeal flying thingie, but at least they can't crash it into anything. Or anyone.

“Leaders have duties, and the most important of these duties is to serve the people they lead,” Vethara said. “But then again, I am hardly that much of a leader. There are corners of Taraskovya much larger and more important than mine. If you will just excuse me a second, I believe my stomach is beginning to cry famine.”

With that, she stood up from her long chair and fetched herself some roast, with a light drink.

“Rasslabtes’, leib-Gvardii Kapitan,” she whispered to her loyal bodyguard as she did so. Dolgoslavov only smirked and sighed in return.

“Tak tochno, Vashe Korolevskoe Vysochestvo,” he said briefly.

Smiling, Vethara sat back in her chair, getting comfy. She arranged the umbrella to shade her entirely and took off her hat, placing it nearby.

“And that solution you spoke of does sound original indeed, as it does contribute to solving a number of issues. I can hardly imagine it applied to a human monarchy. Usually it is left to the monarch’s discretion or until death takes him or her…” the woman arched an eyebrow and turned to look at Minerva.

“Your political position is higher than mine, which means that you undeniably know more about the nations around and about than me. Do you know of any monarchy where it is law or custom that the monarch abdicates after a certain period of time?”

[OOC: Trying to get Minnie back into the talk. =|

Russian text:
- Relax, Captain of the leib-Guard.
- Affirmative, Your Royal Highness.]

Illaan has been watching from the sidelines for the moment, generally leaving people well enough alone... again, for the moment.

Now, of course, she is not only technically a duchess, but she's also somewhat augmented. Maybe not in the way everyone is _thinking_, but the usual low level stuff...

She probably couldn't generate a wave in the water like Nathicana had, though... At least, without much effort. The first person she had accosted had more or less fled, unsurprisingly, given her relative lack of coverage...

Of course, now that the roast appears done, Illaan joins in about as discreetly as she can, which is to say that her target has now changed, and she's more or less trying to turn into Bondayehr's new shadow.

She is, of course, 'checking him out', and there's the usual comparisons ongoing as she pits the somewhat more famous Bondayehr against the Doctor Sclessinger in her mind. Given her rather... insubstantial... performance with Joel, she's trying something slightly different here, and with enough volume that Joel will _hear it_, and with any luck it might turn him some sort of shade of red.

Illaan sort of 'innocently' bumps into Bondayehr in semi-passing, which is to say the incident is engineered, and proceeds with an "Oh, sorry!" before continuing.

"Waitaminute. Hey, didn't you accidentally conquer Kekkosmaa? Where are my manners... Illaan Soryaan, Duchess of Kajal Mars."

"Thanks, Ssh," Bondayehr says with a tired wryness completely out of sync with the diplomatic friendliness he instantly drops out of and back into while talking to the Allanean. Then someone nudges him with someone soft, apologizes, he says "no problem" naturally--oh dear god, he's a Scolopendran that's been hit with the bare part of a breast, whatever shall he do--and finally he hears the words "conquer" and "Kekkosama" in the same sentence.

His face flinches, just a little, just like it did when Nathi and Dev teased him about it in front of the kids and, of course, they being avid newswatchers (no real choice, really), got in on the fun. He didn't flip out then, because of the kids, and he won't flip out now... because of the kids, and everyone else, and the fact he has to remain so cool and calm and collected and most of all polite. Why is it that everyone else has to shallowly tease him about something where a few thousand innocent civilians and soldiers died, eh? All because he made a forced landing in the middle of nowhere so his ship wouldn't crash and kill a few hundred troopers. Perfect hindsight! Calculus of the good didn't even enter into it when he made the call but then again he didn't know he'd be making a trade.

"Lieutenant Colonel Timofeyev Bondayehr, Scolopendran AeroSpace Directorate." Diplomatic smile and a short little diplomatic bow Shorty would be proud of, but anyone with a nose--meaning the Sakkrans and the kzinti--would note his pheromone constitution has just changed dramatically and he's producing enough adrenaline and anger-constituents to perhaps offer an alternative to fossil fuels, if there weren't a million of those already. "I'm honored to make your acquaintance."

'Honored' is not 'pleased,' which is why he didn't use the latter. The latter would not be true, and he's in uniform, and he can't lie.

Seagulls? What's the fun in that? "You should make it fly at someone," Ivan tells Naiya, while scanning the beach for suitable targets. "Like those people over there!" He points at where Shorty is talking with the stuffy-looking Xirmiumites. "Or maybe at your uncle!"

-+-+-

"Too much to drink?" Gregor shakes his head. "No, I barely got a sip. I think beaches hate me."

Maxwell’s comment regarding his superior elicited a slight giggle of amusement from the noblewoman.

‘Well, I for one can certainly understand that sentiment,’ Pénélope replied with a small smile. ‘Where I come from at least, dragons are considered rather fearsome and terrifying beasts, if endowed with a certain splendid natural beauty.

‘And, well, I’ve yet to find someone who likes a bore,’ she added with a wry grin.

Pénélope flushed a deep scarlet as Maxwell conveyed a curt dismissal of the Danaan youth. She was terribly embarrassed, of course, particularly by the bluntness of his tone. The society lady was rather accustomed to a slighty more pronounced subtlety in discourse, and like many aristocrats ostensibly remained on friendly terms even with those she was completely contemptuous of. Before she could decide what to say, however, Petros had already walked away.

Well, he was only a mere child, after all. Had he not been, Pénélope would have been mortified by such display of rudeness.

‘That really was not necessary, sir,’ the viscountess said, looking a little distressed. Curiously, she was more concerned for herself, for her own conduct, than for any hurt feelings of the adolescent. ‘I am perfectly capable of conveying my own displeasure, if I should feel the need to do so.’

Pénélope sighed a little and adjusted a delicate silver hoop earring. There was no point in fretting over the past.

‘Pray accept my apologies, where were we again?’

Sshrakka looks over at Nathi's children, with the obvious looks of mischief-making playing on their faces. She's not really paying mind to Tim's conversation even when Illaan 'bumps' into Tim and starts chatting with him. She got the briefing from Ranger HQ about Kekkosama and figured, knowing Tim, it was a sore point, and one she tried avoiding bringing up.

But her ears overheard THAT WORD being brought up, and when her nostrils catch the pheromone shift in Bondayehr, she looks over and guages what is going on. Then she looks over at Illaan, with her dewlap fully inflated and showing a deep red. For those that know, the air suddenly starts smelling of cinnamon, enough to make Kraah take notice, as well as any Sakkran within 50 feet of them. THe Advisor cranes his neck over in their direction with a muttered 'Oh, dammitall' and seems ready to leap out of his chair.

Sshrakka doesn't make any sudden motions, but stands at her full height and fixes both eyes on the woman next to Tim. Her dewlap still fully extended and her yellow-orange eyes turned a milky tone due to nictitating membranes sliding over them.

"Ah, my dearest apologies, m'lady. I beg your forgiveness." Max makes a brief apologetic bow. "Alas, it is in my experience that the finer points of diplomacy are oft lost on youth. Just as I often see verily displeased ladies of honour who suffer needlessly for they are far kinder than to be blunt." This last is said with a slight grin and bit of that charismatic flair Maxwell seems so fond of, blue eyes twinkling beneath the sunglasses.

A quick glance to make sure that Petros is out of earshot. "I wouldn't worry, he'll likely find something else more suitable to occupy himself with. I do believe, m'lady, that we were last discussing the possibilities of a pleasant swim." A slight tip of the head that ruffles the neatly kept black hair just so. "Unless you would perhaps prefer refreshments of some variety?"

If one did some research, Illaan's biography would have made mention of her style of leadership being somewhat... blunt, direct to the point, and above all, rather average. She had been hand picked by Lady Keral to keep Kajal Mars quiet, more or less, and there was a rather well publicized streak of tirades and general misunderstandings that seemed to crop up every few decades whenever she thought it was a good idea to open her mouth.

It normally wasn't. Sera, who was off swimming by now, served as a PR manager and part-time ambassador, and she was, well... much more eloquent.

Even given the distance, Sera can see that Il's mere moments away from another less than stellar moment, and she attempts to make her way directly to the encampment without looking like she intends to do that.

Now, Illaan may not be a Sakkran or Kzinti, but for some reason she's seen enough reactions like this to know just how astronomically stupid mentioning Kekkosmaa was, and after glancing in the direction of the Sakkran that looked poised to tear her throat out...

Sera is halfway up the beach by now, looking a little more determined, as Illaan looks somewhat more... frightened. Now, in her 'day', some separatist remnants may have bombed one of the underwater cities and killed a... goodly amount, she hadn't exactly thought about the specifics in asking if yes, in fact, he was the same Bondayehr that had accidentally conquered Kekkosmaa.

Illaan promptly came down with a bad case of what was commonly called Foot In Mouth disease, especially given the Sakkran's glare. She managed a "I, um..." before Sera practically dragged her off.

"Did you even read anything about that particular incident?" Sera whispered, in a not-altogether friendly way herself. "It's like asking if you're that sara who accidentally BLEW UP A DOME."

Illaan made a sort of grimace-smile, glancing back at the group and then away again.

When Sera comes to save Illaan from herself, Bondayehr stops biting his tongue and tastes a bit of blood. Excusing himself with a slight bow, and eyeing Ssh, he spends half his waking effort on calming himself down (hooray for Your Body and You) and half on patting Ssh on the arm, letting her know that the situation is quickly being resolved to his satisfaction. As long as someone goes off on that bimbo, good; so long as it isn't him, even better. His free hand, acting of its own accord, pours himself a shot of vodka out of rote muscular memory and vague support from his visual centers, then delivers it directly to mouth.

Yup, he bit his tongue all right. Not deep at all, but boy howdy does that shit burn going over. He swishes before swallowing. There, disinfected. It'll be fine if he lets it be for a while. "No worry, Ssh," he says sotto voce, it looks like the situation's being dealt with. Huh, that Keeper just gave the kids some sort of crystally rock thing." He tries to make out what's going on, especially whatever that sort of light thing is. "Can you tell what that thing on the crystal is? Your eyes are better than mine."

Nathi giggleshrieks as she goes through the air and makes a tremendous splash, arms and legs churning as she tries to right herself, then swim a bit in towards shore before taking up the chase again, pounding through the surf with a determined expression, though she’s all smiles about it.

At a glance there seems to be several games afoot, though whether or not they’re at all connected seems to be in question. She wonders idly if effort could be turned to mesh them, not particularly liking the odds, all things considered, though she admits it would be amusing as hell.

Another glance assures her that the kids are in good hands, and not seeming to be causing any trouble for the moment, leaving her free to continue her fun, though she still can’t decide just why she started it, aside from a pure spontaneous burst of mischief that seemed right at the time.

*=*=*=*=*

The twins exchange meaningful looks at the comments on the downsides to said ‘change’, not at all liking the sound of having needles and flamethrowers applied just so one could do magic and look extremely cool. Surely there were other ways.

“I think it would be neat to see magic like that,” Naiya says, “But not if it hurts.”

She nods thoughtfully as more information is given, eyes widening as the stone transforms into the little light dragon, with Marcus letting out a quiet ‘ooooooooh’ of appreciation, leaning in closer for a better look.

“Really? It’s ok?” She looks to the other kids for confirmation, nodding as Ivan seems to suggest she try it out. “We’ll take turns though.”

Gingerly accepting the stone in her small hands, she first examines it carefully, and the little glowing dragon it generated, watching it closely as she experiments with very basic things like moving up, and down, and side to side, her eye movements giving away where it is she’s going to want it to go.

“Thank you, Signorina Kiara,” she says almost breathlessly, hands trembling with excitement. She pauses for a moment, looking around the beach area, sending the little light fluttering a bit as her mind wanders back and forth on a target.

Sensing something amiss, she makes up her mind.

The light shoots off on a beeline straight for Bondayehr, about knee-high, not paying any mind to anything or anyone in its path. Naiya’s face scrunches up with concentration, brows furrowing as she directs the glowing serpentine creature to seem to ‘climb’ up in a circular path around him, scurrying quickly til it reaches his shoulder, perching there, then scampering up atop his head, leaning down, and placing a ghostly kiss on the middle of his forehead. She then sends the apparition flitting back towards the small group, should any question remain as to where it came from, hands the stone to Ivan so he can have a go at it, and waves at Zio Timo with a big smile on her face.

The fact that such a nifty thing as a magic glowy miniature dragon seeming to scamper all over one might be undesired doesn’t even cross her mind. After all, who wouldn’t want such a thing?

Marcus is delighted at the whole display, clapping his hands and giggling, only showing minor disappointment as the stone is passed on. If anything, he’s had to learn how to share, and while it’s irritating now and then, he knows if he goes by the rules, he’ll get his turn as well. And if he doesn’t, well … he probably won’t. Sometimes the learning curve works.

Sshrakka makes a concentrated effort to deflate herself. The eyes clear, the cinnamon smell receeds, and her dewlap goes back to being pressed against her neck. As Tim downs the vodka, she looks at the pair of women thatwere making their way off from the scene of the distubance. "Well, THAT could've been ugly."

Then she looks over at the chunk of glowing quartz her attention is brought to. "Dunno. I'm not boned up on my magic-studies, but it looks like .... " The light zooms towards and up Bondayehr's leg. " ....well, that, I guess." She follows it with her eyes as it perches on Bondy's shoulder for a moment, to the consternation of Wheeland! "Oi! This spot's taken!" The gecko-avatar makes a motion to brush itself off as the serpentine light goes up to Tim's head, and then returns to the source of mischief.

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

At that time Sclessinger is at a good vantage point to see te whole fracas, and still has a hard time getting the scent of cinnamon out of his nose. His face must have displayed some manner of concern, since EHrron taps him on the shoulder. "I know how you are. Good Doc S has to heal all wounds. Go on already, and take this with you." Two large bottles of water are thrust in his hands, and then the Doc is summarily shoved away from the tables.

Joel takes a moment to guage things within Tim's group, and doesn't see a need for his services. And so he walks after the two retreating women until he manages to catch up with them. Not saying a word, he offers each a bottle and sits in the sand.

"I think you underestimate yourself." Kairis said. "Or at least you overestimate the importance people place upon current political power. Your distinguished heritage, the role you played in your nation's recent history and your own character are certainly much respected. I can only speak for my own people but many Confederals hold you in higher esteem than they do many heads of state and government, especially among the Orthodox faithful."

Kairis then considered the actual question. "No. I can't say that I can think of any other monarchies with a similar custom. Limitations of that sort are more commonly to be found in republics. However, it is always interesting to see a different approach."

Having never had the chance to speak to a Scolopendran before, Nefarious pondered for the briefest moment before nodding his head slightly towards the barbeque and drinks. “We were about to take refreshments. You are more than welcome to join us.” He turned momentarily to his companion, making sure that she was not offended with him asking Shorty to join them.

His free hand brushed lightly against the leg of his trousers, as if removing some specks of sand, as he returned his attention to the newcomer. “Are you not letting your hair down like the rest of your party?” Though he had not been watching closely, he had caught a glimpse of the people playing in the sea.

Not that Damien had anything against people having fun. He like to have fun, he just could not relax in what he considered to be more than just a day at the beach. He glanced briefly at his aid, over by the food, guessing that she had already forgotten she was there to work.

Flicking his attention between his two companions, he indicated the food area. “Shall we?”

"Oh, a drink would be wonderful." – she smiles – "You are quite right about the attire, but you must understand – we're on duty even if we're not on duty – we're the only Allaneans for miles and miles, and people look at us and think of the entire nation – and frankly people like us little enough as it is. But anyway. A drink would be absolutely wonderful - especially if it has floating ice bits in it."

At which point the generally-shy Marusia does the impossible. She detaches herself from her mother, removes her shirt – Miriam shrieks in disbelief ("Marusia! Don't you dare!") – and tosses it on the sand. The long skirt follows, becoming a sort of impromptu beach towel, on which Marusia plops down. It is imperative here to add that nothing 'indecent is revealed' – unless you find a knee-length faded T-shirt indecent, of course. The girl blushes deeply. "I am sorry, Mother dear. This heat, I can't really take it anymore."

Michael laughs. "Bravo, Baby Sister, bravo!"

Miriam changes color to become a magnificient red, but she says not a word. She simply stews on it and waits for someone – which turns out to be Michael – to fetch her a glass of orange juice with four ice cubes floating in it.

A slight frown began to cloud Élisabeth’s delicate features but was soon ruthlessly suppressed, replaced with a pleasant-looking, almost friendly smile. The baroness had not quite caught a name. Perhaps she had merely missed it, reflected the noblewoman, preoccupied as she was by the disturbing fact that she and her companion were conversing with a beast.

No, a “Scolopendran”, the baroness corrected herself firmly, endeavouring as best she could to be polite, even in her thoughts.

Shorty’s smile seemed more like a fearsome grimace to Élisabeth, as though the newcomer meant to gobble her up for dinner, though the noblewoman supposed it very likely well-intentioned. Shorty was certainly courteous enough; at least, in that relaxed, careless sort of fashion that seemed as common amongst the bourgeois as it evidently was amongst anthropomorphic cats. In either case, the newcomer appeared to be a fairly important personage amongst its own people; and that, too, was most important.

The baroness realised at this point that Lord Nefarious had spoken to her, and that she had been distracted by her own thoughts .

‘Yes, yes. Indeed,’ agreed Élisabeth quickly, her eyes blinking rapidly as was her wont when slightly flustered. She answered her companion’s look with a slight nod and a meaningful glance.

‘Pray do us the honour of joining us for a drink,’ she asked Shorty with a nervous smile, her lovely voice adopting something of a sing-song cadence. The mildly hopeful look upon her countenance with which she extended the invitation was most amusing, considering her private misgivings.

Bruce and Rebecca skidded to a halt as an explosion of seawater signified the end of this particular portion of the chase, and blinked almost simultaneously when the smallish woman went flying through the air, though her delighted sound making it clear that she was unharmed.

They look towards each other, their eyes meeting with perfect understanding, waiting just long enough to hear the Scolopendran (they assume, as he's not in their files, and he is a kzin, and such are rather uncommon outside the Segments) inform Nathi of her new occupation, and, being still about ten feet away, wait long enough to see the ratcat burst into motion, with Nathi following a moment later.

A brief pause with a glance at the Dread Lady, to let her know they're more than fair targets as well, and the two Federation representatives shoot apart, though generally headed in the same direction as the G'reer-Captain...

That is to say, away from Nathi.

The Danaan’s praise came quite unexpected to the young woman, who met the words with a smile. “I can only thank you for your high esteem. And indeed, such limitations are a domain of the republican system…”

The tension in and around the Archduchess’es location made Fluff twitch his ears and fix in the same direction Kraah was fixing, then give a glance at Kraah and then at Vethara. The latter, who was talking to Minerva, caught the glance of her wolf companion and gave him a reassuring smile. The beast then went back to finishing what little remained of the roast and soon it was all gone.

The Archduchess then looked at Kraah, followed the Advisor’s gaze in the direction he was looking, arching an eyebrow at the rather “open” Kajali women. Even for beach clothes, these were… original.

“Is there anything wrong?” Vethara leaned over to Kraah and asked quietly.

"Thank you, sir." Polite little bow, pleased flick of the tail, and then a look over her shoulder at the other examples of her species generally throwing people and running full tilt all over the place. "Hrrr... I suppose I'm not, sir. Having heard this was a diplomatic function, I came more or less prepared... although I may have been decieved." If her body language his hard to follow, her voice isn't; despite having enough of a growl to it to immediately show her as having a kzin's larynx, it's actually quite pleasant, in a human sense, and she sounds like she's in an exceptionally good mood. Which, generally, she is, even if she does catch the frown and the obvious coverup. She's been given a chance; that's all she really asks.

"Certainly, ma'am. I always enjoy the opportunity to meet and learn about new people; it's probably the reason I chose my profession." Smiling voice, batwing ears flicking. "Have either of you been to Sakkra before? I studied here for a year in university, and can recommend some of the most interesting places to visit should you be interested... with the same being true of the Dominion, of course. Living there has its advantages."

* - * - *

Despite flashbacks concerning energy weapons, Timofeyev sees clearly enough the dragon bolting in, futzing with Wheeland, and performing the kiss on the forehead before bolting off. Peering a bit again through his fuzzy astigmatism, yes, that'd be Naijya at the helm. Anyone with a nose would find the adrenaline stink drop to nothing much faster than it has any right to, as Bondayehr smirks in a not-at-all wry way.

It's a family thing, really.

"Well, all's well that ends well." Diplomode turn back on... sort of... as if the last incident simply did not happen, which in his mind it may as well hadn't. One had chewed out the other and should they be willing to try again but with perhaps a bit more awareness next time, good for them. He can't help but chuckle at Marusia's rebellion. "Actually, ma'am,"--to Miriam--"I understand the feeling wholeheartedly. I am the only person whose PTs here are tucked in as according to regulations. Still, if I may be brutally honest, the diplomatic effect of doing business under the hot sun in black three-piece suits of all things is only to engender a sense of worry that one of you are going to end up with heat exhaustion. No one will think any less of you should you be more casually dressed. I am sure you recognize padishah Speaker-Rrit over there being chased by... uh... Director Thress."

He points with the flat of one hand, thumb tucked in, towards the orange blur not wearing M.I. red shorts being chased by the more greenish blur in a sort of cloakish blur. "Now, as both an international hero and consort to an up-and-coming diplomatic officer who eats and breathes the good name of the Segments like I do airpower," he continues in a more jocular tone, "I can assure you that relations between our two countries, and those of our allies,"--he tries not to think too much of that, whee brainslide--"will not be adversely affected should you decide to change your wardrobe into something somewhat more suitable to the environment at hand. Again, as an international hero, I can probably find such a thing for you should you not have contingency planned quite like your children. Or, if all else fails"--he glances back at the practically nude green blur--"you'll always be overdressed by someone's standards and at any rate shouldn't worry about presenting a boardroom image at the moment."

* - * - *

Glancing right, Speeks sees G'reer-Captain with what look to be two human escorts. Glancing further right, Nathi storming out of the surf. He doesn't even look behind him; he knows Thress better than that. He also knows that Thress will probably win, as the whole hot-sun open-sand environment favors her and she hasn't had to make the effort to leap straight out of the water. Still, two isolated games of tag are less fun than one big game of tag, and if he's going to have to go down, he may as well make it useful, and show up a youngster in the process.

He immediately darts onto an intercept course, obvious to Thress and the SP'ers as they're maintaining situational awareness, no doubt. G'reer-Captain is still in missile-break phase and wants to get more distance before checking his position regarding the only person he thinks is it, that being Nathi. Damn whippersnapper should be bloody honored at getting learning at the hands of the Patriarch. Leap, and...

Speaker doesn't scream until he's almost practically right on top of the younger 'tosh. G'reer hardly even has the time to whip his head around at the sound. Both go down in an orange-and-black ball of dust and surprised (not angry) snarling, ending with one on his back, thoroughly pinned, and another, rougher looking one with a prominent scar over his right eye, doing the pinning. "Situational awareness is the key to Heroism..."

G'reer blinks and mind works just a bit slower than lips. "Most honored Patriarch Speaker-Rrit!" His right arm jerks to do the claw-salute, but it's pinned at the moment.

The old 'tosh chuckles, breath whiffing through his nostrils as he gets his breath. "No, young one, that is my name. You may not have it."

"G'reer-Captain, t'kaj nubezecj kzin wtunu kzin!"*1 The tense is so mewlingly Submissive that even people who don't know a lick of the Hero's Tongue, or even knew the Hero's Tongue ever existed, can probably expect it's the tone of an inferior to a superior.

"Icaad'rg, kzin G'reer-ts'ehv, hweez'uz he'rrearow azra zhlaaan h'usosychizhs."*2 Ultimate Imperative has a sort of ring to it, usually one of imperial condencension, but Speeks makes it sound like a mild, teasing chiding.

By this time, it's almost inevitable that Thress has managed an intercept.

Subtitles:

*1: 'most venerated/respected Hero of Heroes!' -- the traditional and somewhat overblown way to reference the Patriarch; compare to someone in British peerage using the phrase 'The Right Honorable The Marquess of Somethingorotherster!' instead of 'My Lord' in actual speech, although Speaker's rank in the quasireligious Patriarchy is more equivalent to 'Your Holiness' rather than 'Your Excellency,' as far as the example goes.

*2: 'Well [then], Hero G'reer-Captain/Leader, let this be your lesson.' -- even if said in Ultimate Imperative, it's actually nowhere near as formally fancy.

Kairis nodded a little. "It might well have something to do with the longer lifespan of the Sakkrans." She turned to Kraah with a pleasant smile. "If humans lived as long as your people did, perhaps our monarchs would not serve for the rest of their natural lives either. The current constitution of my country can be seen as a merger of monarchist and republican principles in a certain sense so I am always interested in seeing how different political systems incorporate elements different from the basic constitutional archetypes. I'm not sure if that's the best way to say it."

She paused as Vethara whispered to Kraah, following the Sakkrans gaze to the Kajali as well and frowning delicately.

Kraah continued looking at Sshrakka. Wow, she really has her spurs on! The cinnamon smell kept in his nostrils and he forced himself to fight his pack-hunter instincts and start flanking maneuvers at the imposed target. But the female Sakkran laid down her dewlap and recalled her senses. As such, the combat scent lingered for a moment and receeded. The other Sakkrans in the area seemingly lost interest and went back to whatever business they were conducting at the time.

To Vethara and Kairis, he put on his jovial Advisor's airs again. "Just smelled a bad situation, but it's a non-issue now. Everything seems to have worked out for the better." I think. "At any rate, yes I suppose having a longer life-span does make political evolution in such a manner possible. Coupled with our natural willingness to do little more than bask and eat. I guess you could say none of us WANT to be Emperor, but the other option is too chaotic to even imagine."

**********************************************************
Thress, meanwhile, finally got her shot. Whether it was planned or not wasn't questioned. She tapped Speaks on his back as he tackled and spoke with the obviously younger K'zin pinned by him. This was done during a leap that carried her over the pair. A quick 'Objective accomplished.' was spoken by her after she landed ankle-deep in water. With the heat of the sun, her adrenaline and the humidity from the evaporating water on the sand, she felt her metabolism become over-charged.

She stops for a moment panting and waiting for the K'zin pair to regain their footing. "We could make this game into a bigger affair. I'm sure we'd have plenty of participants.' For the first time in forever, Thress feels.....genuinely happy. Her dewlap shows purple in it and her tail seems to swish slowly from right to left.

When Speeks appears almost out of nowhere to tackle G'reer-Captain, they throw up a huge splash. And then there's the flying Sakkran. And as such, there's a choice to make, for both Bruce and Rebecca.

Bruce breaks the left, and fails in his attempt as he encounters a breaking wave, and given that, as Nathi well knows from experience with the man, he is prone to the occasional clumsiness. He spralls into the surf, getting a mouthful of salt water for his efforts.

Rebecca breaks to her right, hard, digging her bare foot into the sand, and caught the wave moments after it hit her lover. Her, on the other hand, it threw forward, given her angle of attack to it. A gymnast in her youth, she used the force to spring into a forward handspring and twist, landing poised on her feet, facing back towards Bruce, who was coming up sputtering.

Leading his companions across the sand, Lord Nefarious guided them over to the refreshments, their movements slow enough not to cause the Baroness any trouble with walking. It was a very poor gentleman who allowed the lady on his arm to fall flat on her face, and he certainly had no intention of performing such a faux pas.

As they walked, he turned to the Scolopendran and shook his head slightly. “I have never had the privilege of visiting Sakkra before now,” he remarked, noting that there were a lot of people present from lands that he had never stepped foot on. Both of those walking with him were also on that list. “I hope that before I leave, I will have the opportunity of seeing more.” He knew it was unlikely he would stay on, but the thought was there just the same.

His attention then shifted to Élisabeth. “Milady?” He fell silent, allowing the woman on his arm a chance to answer without interruption.

The baroness made a vague gesture before replying.

‘I’m afraid that this is my very first time in Sakkra as well,’ Élisabeth explained, turning her dreamy gaze from Lord Nefarious to Shorty. The noblewoman did not choose to confide in the two that she had scarcely ever heard of Sakkra before being told of this party.

‘I must say it does seem quite a lovely country though,’ Élisabeth continued. ‘And deeply fascinating, of course; so very different from Xirnium. I rather regret now not having visited much earlier. For one thing, the weather here is simply gorgeous,’ she explained with a smile.

Her last comment, at least, was genuinely meant. As Élisabeth had been leaving the Eternal Republic, much of the Xirniumite east coast had been in the grip of a remarkable cold snap, with her own home city of Iáthërn witnessing appalling hail and sleet. So much for springtime! By contrast the weather in Sakkra had been nothing but a golden delight.

Shorty nods, matching the pace of the group, off a bit to the left and maybe a hair behind. It's a show of respect, at least in the Western military tradition, and if the ratcat can rub off a bit on Bondayehr, well, that can certainly go two ways. "I do agree, ma'am, it is pleasant, if generally a bit too humid inland for me." Kzinti are plains critters; still, she chuckles as she looks like she must have just hopped out of a jungle somewhere. "If your schedule allows, sir, I would recommend heading inland at least to see the Khess mountain range up close. If you enjoy hiking"--well, she thinks, maybe not hiking, given the upper-classness, but still--"there are several trails that shouldn't be missed. Hreer and Zzaudd both have excellent arthouses and operas, should you get the chance."

Friendly enough chit-chat, which is around seventy percent of good diplomacy. Shorty is pleased.

Damien made a mental note of all the places the Scolopendran had mentioned. The opera and the art house seemed the more viable options, and it would be entertaining to discover how different – if at all - both were in Sakkra. “Thank you for your recommendations,” he replied, realising that he did not know exactly how to address the ratcat. He wished his aid was nearby. “I will certainly try to visit at least one before I leave.”

Finally they reached the refreshments, and he brought them to a stop close enough to see what was on offer, but not too close that they would have to move to see everything. “If either of you ladies would care for something, I would be honoured to fetch it for you.” He flashed both his companions a smile, sticking closely to the time honoured traditions of society.

Of course, he had other reasons for offering. He was hoping that while he collected their orders, he would have the opportunity of gathering a little information from Charity. That was the problem with informal gatherings, it was not always easy to prepare for them. Oh, how he wished that he had been able to find a way not to attend. He looked briefly at Élisabeth and noted it had not been a totally lost cause. On top of that, he had made first the Tartarian contact with the Scolopendrans, even if talking to a non-human always felt strange to him.

“Contingency planned?” – Marusia comments from her skirt/beach towel – “I didn’t plan for anything, I just ripped off the shirt, Mother. Now, Michael right there…”

Miriam turns around. “Michael Maverick Monningham!” – her voice acquires a steely ring which immediately disappears. – “But then I guess Colonel Bondayehr is right. Mr. Bondayehr, would you really be so kind and help me procure something – vaguely appropriate? I have not a single problem with public nudity, but I’m a mother of two and I don’t think I will look very aesthethic in my birthday suit, if you know what I mean.”

Michael smiles: “You are not that old, Mom. Or at least you do not look that old.”

“Michael Maverick Monningham!”

* * * *

In the meanwhile, Maverick Monningham is making his way through the commotion. He is hot, but stoic, even though the stiff collar of his shirt has already become almost completely soaked with sweat.

He stops only when he reaches Kraah.

“Greetings, Your Honor. I am Maverick Monningham, the United States Ambassador to the Segments – and am quite pleased to meet you.”

"Ah, uh, thanks." Illaan says, as she recieves the bottle of water. She sits as well, but doesn't really speak so much as immediately open it and take a large swig.

Of course, she'd rather it be something else, but water will be just fine for the moment.

Sera accepts the other one a little more gracefully. "Sera Merala, Ambassador At Large, and unofficially Illaan's Public Relations officer."

Illaan snorts at this, though it's quite true, given what just happened.

"I'm told that I'm somewhat tactless at times," she says. Sera just nods in agreement.

"You have no idea. So, I guess we're both damage control?"

From her vantage point in the rear, Nathi gets a fairly good grasp of the goings on ahead. Earlier plottings of a combined game reach unity, and a plan formulates while she giggles muchly at the sight of G’reer and Speeks going down in a tangle.

Dashing up on the collective group, she takes the opportunity of Speeks’ posterior being somewhat presented, and smacks him playfully on the backside. “Aaaaaaand tag.” She cuts quickly to the side, and offers Bruce a hand up, winking at him slyly. “Looking good, boyo,” she murmurs, eyeing him appreciatively. “Even if you can’t seem to keep your feet now and then.” Another look to make sure the kids aren’t in any sort of trouble, one brow going up curiously at the flying light thing they seem to be playing with, though still safely with the Keeper … all well for now, no worries.

“Party of … 6 now? Game on?” She calls out to the rest, smiling mischievously. “Anyone else we might drag in – er – invite?”

"Naw, that counts as a contingency plan." Bondayehr shrugs, then thinks for a moment, sizing Miriam up with a professional eye, somehow managing to make it a completely neutral look. "If you don't mind unisex wear, ma'am, I've got plenty in Lightning Bug. I don't think Shorty's blues would fit you. Back in a moment." And he's off running at a good clip. It doesn't take him long to crest the hill to the parking area, hop into his shuttle, rummage around in the clothes, and grab a more civilian version of what he's got on right now. Bright colors and patterns, very Polynesian, and natively Polynesian at that because they actually go well together. He returns with drawstring shorts and a shirt posthaste.

Actually, they may fit her more comfortably than him, given how absurdly slender he is.

* - * - *

Speaker just shakes his head at Nathi, not exactly surprised, although he does retaliate with a flick of his tail, her break-maneuver simply putting her in an optimal position for rear-end whippage. "It appears I am it," Speeks says to his captive.

"I gladly accept the challenge, most honored Speaker-Rrit."

"No tagbacks."

"Of course."

Speeks sits back and catches his breath, releasing the younger 'tosh from under him and chuckling at G'reer-Captain brushes himself off. "Well, go on."

G'reer nods. Nathi was it and tagged fairly; as was Thress. Nathi is dragging up Bruce--hardly fair--but Rebecca seems to be light on her feet. He goes after her.

Joel nods in the negative. "I'm about one of the only non-politicos here. Doctor Joel Sclessinger, Cyber-Surgeon and chief WetWare Doc of Kastaa BioMed, what one would call a general hospital and medical research facility." His head looks back at kraah's area. "I wouldn't call it damage control, as it seems pretty much everyone's at least acting like it's already forgotten. THAT, however ...." He jerks a thumb back to where Sshrakka stands. While she's deflated, it's apparent one eye is still on Illan. "...could have been really ugly."

Joel produces a small wet cloth, and wipes down his forehead. "I've lived here for about fifteen years now, so if you have any questions, I could fill you in on the fine points. Would probably help avoid stepping on one's theoretical toes and make the day smoother for you ladies. Would make my 'vacation' less stressful as well." He gives one of those sagely smiles normally attributed to one who's practiced a good bedside manner for many years.

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

Kraah looks up at the suit-clad Allanean before him from over the rim of his shades. "Your Honor? Good lord, man! You make it sound like i'm about to be your judge in a tribunal! And with the way you're sweating, one would think you might actually deserve one. It's Advisor, but here and in this time it's just Kraah."

He jerks a thumb back at Ehrron. "Our resident mixologist can get you something to cool you off some. Loosen up those buttons a bit and relax."

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

Thress stands with Nathi a bit, talking as she keeps situational awareness and ready to dash should the situation require it. "In theory, we could drag the whole beach in on this, but maybe we should keep the numbers as they are for now?"

She eyeballs where Joel and the Kajali are. "But let's make an amendment for random invites through tagging, yes?"

"Well, some of the greatest human philosophers have taught that those most fit to rule will by nature have no desire to do so but instead will only be bound to lead by their duty to their community. Is there any such concept among Sakkrans or is the lack of desire to rule considered a more mundane and less moral matter?" Kairis inquired.

Rebecca was moving to check on Bruce when Nathi offered him her hand, but he was clearly uninjured, except where it mattered to a man - his pride. He is a bit red as he comes up, and it has nothing to do with the impact of skin on water.

The intent of G'reer is clear though, when he surges from the water. She is the only one in this direction, as all the others are effectively behind him now. A bit taller than Nathicana, most of it in her legs, and even with the standard issue to high ranking Federation government officials enhancements (which if one had the clearance to know, which no one here did but her and Bruce, were the same package that the Presidential Cadre got) she was still at a disadvantage to the kzin in flat terrain, to which the beach certainly qualified.

But, she did have the slight advantage of less inertia, and being in very shallow water, thanks to her earlier flip. In fact, one could really say she was not in the water at all, technically, given that the water barely caressed her feet where she now stood. And then fled. G'reer had taken one step, and Rebecca began by darting out sideways, turning as her foot hit the ground. Three steps down the sandy surface, and she changed direction slightly, running back the way they had all just come, and, perhaps surprisingly, into the water.

It was, after all, a game of ocean tag at the beach. Besides, if she could get deep enough in the water, she could lose him, Rebecca hoped. She did not know a lot about kzin physiology, but she was willing to bet holding their breath underwater for seven minutes was not part of it. No one had said it was against the rules. Yet, anyway. She grinned as her black hair streamed behind her, then morphed suddenly to match the blue-brown of the water and sand. Surprise.

Bruce, meanwhile, is on his knees in the water, and tosses his head to get the water streaming from his hair to fly backward and not into his eyes. Enhanced or not, that still stung when you were not ready for it. Sensing the way this game may be turning, a flicker of though causes his eyes to glaze over oddly just before he meets Nathi's gaze, or where her gaze should be. His eyes flick to the shore and the computer in his head identifies the children rather simply, assisted by his own intuition. His images are hardly up to date, though, as children change so fast at that age.

He grasps Nathicana's outstretched arm firmly, then tugs, hard. He has, of course, taken the opportunity to brace on his leg, and Nathi is standing on wet sand, hardly providing the firmest grip. He pulls her towards him - down and forward - with a hard yank, throwing his weight forward against the pull to rise onto his feet. Water runs down his body, which, given he works most days in a fairly comfortable revolving chair, is still, as Nathi also no doubt remembers, fairly defined.

In fact, he does not physically have appeared to have changed at all from the last time they went swimming together. The only feature about him that is different is that he is not looking the Dread Lady over like a hungry panther, merely observing her. "You too, Imperatrix." Well, clearly something has changed, admittedly, it could just be time. After all, he has only seen Nathicana once since then, and even that was some time back.

So she's augmented with chameleon skin but not a Predator-style stealth suit, a slightly higher top speed, a bit more agility, and has less inertia. Apparently no one's ever watched National Geographic films on big cats hairpinning at breakneck speed, the problem with chameleonizing is that taking two tones almost never works, and even if he misses at his first tag attempt G'reer-Captain takes the opportunity to hunt with his nose.

And we all know that people who play tag by darting into some place inaccessable are lamers.

Distance closes shortly, for the simple fact entering water is all drag enducing and bounding towards the water is not. The pounce should do the rest, with arms stretched wide to deal with any last-instant jinks. Reaction time is a factor in this.

Meanwhile, Speeks pads over to Thress and Nathi. "Good run," he says with a nod to Thress.

Élisabeth seemed rather amused at the Scolopendran’s suggestions, and in particular at the mention of the Hreer and Zzaudd opera houses. In her mind’s eye, the noblewoman pictured a packed theatre full of talking lizards, with the beasts on stage dressed in elaborate costumes and those seated in the upper balconies making use of elegant opera glasses. For one terrifying moment, Élisabeth thought that she might actually burst into a fit of unrestrained giggling at the thought, though fortunately the baroness managed to keep her expression appropriately grave and thoughtful.

‘I think that I should like to visit some of those places as well,’ Élisabeth remarked, not bothering to actually remember Shorty’s suggestions but noting with extreme interest Lord Nefarious’ response to them.

The noblewoman placed a fair hand upon her companion’s arm, as though an idle thought had just occurred to her.

‘Perhaps we might even see them together,’ she continued in a desperately nonchalant voice, a voice that carried an air of the most casual indifference. The offhand remark did not seem to require any answer, for Élisabeth appeared to forget it almost at once, turning to look at a childish game of tag as she played distractedly with a long silken tress of her hair, twisting and twining it around her slender fingers.

Strictly speaking the suggestion had been directed at both of them, but really it was aimed at Damien. The curiously demure way in which Élisabeth continued to peer at him through the curled fringe of her blonde eyelashes confirmed this.

A distant, barely noticeable smile danced briefly across the baroness’ lips as Lord Damien chivalrously asked the two if he might get either of them a drink.

‘Ah, yes please; if Your Imperial Highness would be so kind,’ Élisabeth answered, almost gaily. She followed him with her languid eyes clouded with smoke, sparks of silver darting in their blue depths.

As he left the baroness turned to Shorty, toying with a perfumed glove that she had compulsively pulled off again. Élisabeth was not quite sure what to say, and just smiled to the cat nervously.

The Allanean ambassador's wife returns – and makes a valiant, though perhaps overly polite attempt to chat Timofeyev up – "And do you like opera? I have to admit it, the opera house in Stonozka is so much better then the one in Liberty-City. I love it, you know. I lug Maverick and Marusia to every major performance they have – of course, Michael will never let himself be persuaded to go to an opera performance – he says neckties were invented by the Spanish inquisition. He's like that."

Michael in the meanwhile, seeing that his mother is making a valiant – though, it seems, misguided – attempt to capture Bondayehr's attention, he decides to do something entertaining – and quite in his own brand of attention-seeking. He finishes his glass of alcohol and refills it with ice-cold water. Then, he gets himself right behind Dr. Sclessinger, walking almost – almost! – silently on the beach. He raises his glass of water slowly above the doctor's head, and winks conspiratorially at the people who can see what he's planning.

The glass slowly begins to tip…

A polite offer with apparent intent to fulfill practically requires polite acceptance. At least that much of old Araby remains in the Segments, the notion of a nomadic culture where something offered is an actual sacrifice of wealth done out of hospitality. Unfortunately, she left the flagon better designed for her jaw structure back in Lightning Bug, it wouldn't be proper to run and get it right now, and while she can drink out of a 'normal' glass it necessitates a bit of care and would look somewhat odd. "Thank you, sir; just a glass of water and a straw for me, please." Maybe she should've thrown in some more Highnesses in there, but she's identified both by rank-specific form of address; from here on out the usual 'sir/ma'am' combination is just as legitimate except for the most stuffy of court doctrines, according to her briefings on the subject.

When he leaves on his self-taken polite errand, that leaves just Élisabeth and Shorty. While Shorty finds it equivalent to just two people standing around, she gets the feeling the sense isn't mutual. Then there's the nervousness; even if she weren't trained to pick up on minute cues of gesture and glance she's got a nose and adrenaline has a particular smell to it, no matter what other artificial scents happen to get in the way. Now, for humor or just drawing out for more idle, polite chit-chat? Well, the former could be considered rude and may not translate well. The latter, then, but tied to the cause for the former.

"If I may ask, ma'am, are there different sentient species in Xirnium, or not? No matter how used one seems to be to differences, one always seems to come across something new and startling, in my experience at least."

* - * - *

Bondayehr's polite; if someone's demanding his attention without being a jerk about it... well... "Hmmm. Depends on the opera, really. I didn't have much of a taste for it before I learned the languages they were in, but now I rather do enjoy Italian and Chinese operas. I suppose Noh also classifies, but I look at it as a sort of more formal musical, really." He politely makes no comment on the mother hen dragging her chicks about; that's her perogative and her problem, not his. "Well, if he doesn't like neckties, highish collars with button covers on top are always another option."

Timofeyev knows about ties, and isn't that bad at tying them in a half-Windsor knot (the mark of a cad, of course), but as 'Pendran uniforms tend more towards simple high collars for the perfectly utilitarian reason of helping remind the wearer to keep his body fat percentage down, he doesn't have much use for wearing them daily either and can vaguely understand the reasoning.

He regularly glances over at the kids to make sure they're okay, but his situational awareness is split between them and Miriam. He doesn't bother to keep tabs on Michael at this point.

Nathi lets out a surprised yelp at Speek’s retaliation, still laughing at the fun absurdity of the entire situation. “Sounds good!” she replies to Thress’ query, before going down at Bruce’s unexpected treachery. Instincts kick in and she tucks in to go down on her shoulder, using the momentum to sweep her uppermost leg in towards him to catch him in the shins on his way up, hoping his own forward movement in rising will finish the job. Whether he goes down or no, she follows through with the motion and scrambles to her feet, not minding she’s more a mess now between wet and sand.

She arches a brow curiously at the change in demeanor, but still, if he wanted to play dirty, she’d keep that in mind. Nothing beats Shodeyware, and if it came to playing dirty, she had no problems cheating in regards to a cheater.

“That’ll cost you, boyo.” With a sly wink, she takes off along the shore towards G’reer and Rebecca’s general direction. No point in putting herself out of the game entirely by going the exact opposite direction. Big beach, and all that.

"My brother did mention to me once that the Allaneans were an interesting folk to deal with. Or even better not to deal with, as he put it," Vethara said quietly to Kairis as Kraah was busy with Monningham. "I do understand the issues of protocol and formality, but really, I believe the dear Ambassador here is overdoing it just a little bit."

She paused and gave a look at the Allanean ambassador again. She then spoke quietly to Minerva again.

"Although I do admit that when the word Allanean comes to mind, I tend to mentally imagine a little granny sitting in a rocking chair, full with a Confederate american hat on her head and a squad automatic weapon on her knees."

She laughed lightly, smiling. "And yes, I know it is not nice to make fun of people. But really, stereotypes are sometimes a funny thing to consider."

Kairis returned the smile and spoke to Vethara in a whisper. "They can be sometimes, especially with Allaneans because they seem so generally well founded. But I can't help but ask, what stereotypes come to Your Highness's mind when you think of Bilbtorians? I promise that I will not take offense to an honest answer. I'm always interested in how we're seen by others."

Kiara kicks back with no small amount of amusement as the kids excitedly play around with the little magic trinket. She genuinely likes kids, and of all the Keepers she's the one most often lecturing at schools on the subject of thaumaturgic study and mythology. She certainly attracts a lot more attention from students than any of the 'mundane' ATI personnel.

"You've got a knack for it." She notes, observing Naiya's quick mastery of the more refined movements needed to send the light dragon coiling around Bondayehr and back again.

"I wonder if the Imperatrix-" Tsunami glances in the direction of Nathi and the entire tag mess near the water. "-has thought of actually having her spawn get training in that Arts stuff. Kid's a natural."
---

On the subject of the tag mess, Luceh watches from where she landed, slowly finishing off that pitcher of ale she snatched earlier. Having been only recently reintroduced to the world at large, she doesn't immediately grasp what all the fuss in the surf is and so spends some time studying the goings-on before she pieces together the apparent goal of the game. She's been reading up on moderen history and so recognizes most of the figures as being powerful nuhcehtj, but for the moment they're all acting far below their stations.

And besides, it looks like an awful lot of fun.

She wanders over to the bar long enough to return the now-empty pitcher and work a bit of protective magic. Nothing fancy, just a clever sort of shield to protect her otherwise fragile wings given all the tumbling about she's seen happen. Precautions taken, she crouches in the sand and launches into the air in a small blast of wind-driven sand.

Unlike earlier, she doesn't go for the thermals above the beach, and instead gains just enough height to turn a shallow dive into a level racing flight barely above the water. The rest of the tag game had moved quite a ways down the beach from her position, after all. A quick tilt of her wings and shift in her tail sends Luceh careening out of the way of G'reer and Rebecca, and a second adjustment trades speed for a little height, stalling the Keeper just long enough to "tag" Speeks between the shoulders with a light whap from her tail as she passes overhead.

"I'm in!" She declares over the noise of the surf before she levels her flight out again and twists midair to reverse her direction back toward G'reer. Because she's not a lamer, while she is still flying, she doesn't let her altitude go more than a few feet above the shallow water- well within jumping distance of an ordinary human, and well within pouncing height of the enhanced humans and non-humans participating.

Ivan carefully accepts the crystal from Naiya with a happy, "Thanks," before scanning the beach intently. He notes the growing game of tag with interest, particularly the kzin. He's more or less aware that they're intelligent people, but they still look like cats, and seem to act like them. Cats, he reasons, are well known for following around spots of light and little flying things.

Ivan's face scrunches up as he concentrate, and the little glowing lizard darts through the crowd, more or less missing people and not seeming to hurt those it occasionally clips. It comes to a sudden halt directly before Speaker, wings wide, before darting down the beach after Nathi.

Thress follows Nathi's example, and makes a break for it along the direction others are running. However, she heads for the water proper until it reaches about a bit less than a fathom's depth, then dives in and uses her tail to propel herself like a torpedo. The nostrils situated on top of her head allow her to breathe comfortably, while the membranes over her eyes let her see at least relatively normally. She reverses direction to maintain awareness of who is where as far as the multitude of legs in the water goes.

Off the beach a wee bit inland, a Titan II transport lands with a bit of dirt kicked up from the turbo-thrust fans used in VTOL maneuvers. The rear cargo hatch opens, and what looks like a platoon decked out in chef's whites comes out, bearing all manner of items. A large tent is quickly pitched and staked, and before it's even fully secure, tables begin getting set up with ottomans for seating, and fires are lit for the purposes of cooking. Multiple cases of clear liquors, casks of wine and kegs of ale are marched out on maglev platforms.

Kraah looks over at the frenzy of activity, and shifts his position for a better view. "Ah, my caterers are here."

Bruce, still rising when Nathi's leg connects with his, is in fact, thrown off balance, especially given he's got all his weight on the foot she hits, but that turns into an advantage as his other foot comes down hard in the sand to take the load. As she darts off like a sprite, he lets himself grin at her retreating form, and begins to lopsidedly run down the beach.

He's not actually hurt, but acting was covered in some detail at Camp Fozzie that decade and a half earlier, and while Bruce has never been military (perhaps putting him and Rebecca at a distinct disadvantage to the others here in what happens to be a game of tactics, to some extent), he knows a good strategy when he has one. Hopefully, no one will realize the limp is faked. And yes, he's smart enough to limp on the foot which caught his weight by burying itself in the sand, not the one that was kicked well above the ankle, though that one, admittedly, is in a bit of pain. "You hit hard for a girl," he, perhaps overly bravely, calls after Nathi as she pulls ahead.

The flickering light distracts him into following it with his gaze, trusting himself to be able to maintain a straight line towards the chase that is on going. The assumed limp and the fact that he fails to consult his internal computers as to the directions means that he wanders like a drunk for about six steps before resuming his pursuit.

Rebecca's eyes glaze over like Bruce's had as she avoids G'reer's first capture attempt with a very complex twist of her body and a whole lot of luck. If his claws had been bared, he probably would have torn out her kidney, it was that close.

It was less that Rebecca was unfamiliar with big cats turning sharply while hunting than it was that she failed to associate kzin with cat. Like all citizens of the Federation, she classified them as people, sentients, really, who just happened to be fur covered.

G'reer has to catch up again, and given that he is faster, bouncing along as he is, it takes a mere moment before he pounces, but it is enough time for Rebecca to reach the water depth she wanted, and warned less by the motion/proximity sensor she could barely use than by some primitive, primate part of her brain, she dives forward, effectively taking extended appendages out of the equation unless he hits her.

Yeah, the hunter can jump further than she can, but she's counting on that when the dive turns into a somersault through the couple feet of water as she curls into a ball, her feet slamming into the sand at the end of it stopping her forward motion completely. In three feet of water now, not as far out as Thress, she pushes hard by extending her legs and kicking back the direction of the others they had left moments before, the filmy covering letting the salt water not sting her eyes.

If G'reer's surprised by the move or can't compensate in time, she's undoubtedly moving away fairly rapidly under the water now (though definitely no where near as fast as a Sakkran would), the purpose of changing her hair color to blend with the ocean more apparent, as the brown and blue, along with her skin tone, blends better with the bottom than the midnight black tresses that earlier matched her bathing suit.

If he does manage to catch her, most likely around the ankles or lower legs, he's probably got her pinned under the surface for a moment before she can twist enough to sit up and hear the dreaded words...

Kzin can swim, too. Especially when they're in some form of Federal Service (oh yes, the Civilian Defense Corps goes through survival training too). Moreso when they're Mobile Infantry. It simply becomes as natural as breathing for someone in the Mobile Infantry Sea Corps; a submariner who can't swim is a very poor animal indeed.

So she dives and changes color. Big deal. Her swimsuit is still black and stands out quite a bit, no matter how much hair she has. A pounce is just the first step in a counterdive, and as he was pouncing directly at her with only consideration for dodging... well, it's like escaping a vehicle stuck on train tracks. One wants to run along the side of the tracks towards the oncoming train, because conservation of momentum dictates all the debris from the collision will generally be going in the train's direction. Plenty of momentum, a water depth that hardly comes up to his thighs, training and musculature...

Dragging Rebecca up by the shoulders, saying "you're it, no tagbacks" and scampering off shouldn't too tremendously tax the ratcat.

* - * - *

A glowing dragon the size of a large dragonfly is something new, and Speaker lazily watches it flit away towards Nathi. He hadn't heard of such things in Sakkra (and hasn't been paying any attention at all to the children), but as this is a diplomatic function and it could be anything from a poorly conceived spy drone to yet another important person, he figures chasing it and potentially hurting it would be a bad idea.

Vethara smiled at Minerva and closed her eyes, making a void to think of nothing and then bringing up the image of Bilbtoria in her mind.

“Men and women in traditional dress dancing the hasapiko,” she said as she opened her eyes. “I have never taken part in that dance, now that I think of it.”

And then the activity off the beach catches her eye, as she observes the proceedings and then overhears Kraah.

“This is what you meant by “caterers”? Surely looks,” she paused as she looked at the Sakkran, “promising, to say the least.”

Kairis laughed slightly. "You really must visit sometime, Your Highness. I am sure you would be very well received at His Highness's court and would have a chance to partake in all of the local dances. There are quite a few in addition to the hasapiko."

Among the Confederal staff members walking about was one who was not a stranger to large, diplomatic gatherings but who had, in fact, been present on one that now seemed ages ago, although, in reality, not that much time had passed. Maile Carey was older than she had been when she had first accompanied then Princess Agwene ni Gwydion on the first trip of a Danaan royal outside of the nation in several centuries, opening contact with the international community. However, she was still a rather lovely woman with long legs, a near perfect figure and raven curls which came down well below her shoulders. She was dressed, not surprisingly, in a fairly tiny silver bikini. After a short time walking the beach, she had finally found a spot, spread out her towel and settled down for some sunbathing until such time as she should catch someone's attention.

"So."

"So."

Trae shook his head idly and sipped at his 'Scotch,' which wasn't really anything of the sort. It tasted somewhat similar, but the alcohol content was sufficient to enter into relatively dangerous areas for the 'average' human. A disadvantage, indeed...

"So, what now?"

Finlay shrugged, "Damfino.'

"Yon FSPites seem to be having fun..."

"Doesn't look like much fun to me."

"Mmm..."

"Mmmhmm."

"Yup."

"Where'd my drink get off to?"

"Left foot."

"Thanks."

‘And in my experience, sir, it is certainly not only on the youth that the finer points of diplomacy are oft lost,’ Pénélope riposted. The comment had obviously been meant as a rebuke, and yet the hint of an amused grin played at the corner of her mouth.

The viscountess’ lips broke into a broad smile at the next part, however, and she let herself forget her annoyance.

‘A swim might be nice…’ mused Pénélope thoughtfully, passing a delicate wrist over her forehead. The heat of the day was becoming oppressive.

On a whim the noblewoman bent her knees slightly and plunged her hands under the surface of the waves, splashing Maxwell playfully. ‘How is the water?’ she asked with feigned seriousness, fixing him with a critical eye.

"Promising, huh?" Kraah lifted his crest fully, yet the air took on the scent of nutmeg for those with sensiive noses. "They had better be 'promising' or i'm docking their payroll. But I just had five thoughts all at once, and now they're slipping off. Hrrrmmmm...." He scratched at his leathery tendrils growing from his chin.

He stops scratching as his eyes widen a bit. "Ah, yes. Madam Kairis, I believe you had a philisophical question earlier? Hmmm..mmhmmm...In terms of the mentality towards ruling is dependent on an individual basis. I myself didn't really want to do it, but I saw my people spiraling back to a time best left in the history tomes. I guess you could call it a sense of duty, but I see it as self-preservation. What happens to them, happens to me as well. Bear in mind our ruling body in the form of the Emperor isn't based solely on lineage."

He takes a long drink, finishing his mug. "We have contests for those that seek to rule. One must have a strong mind, a strong spirit, and a strong body. We are, after all, a meritocracy in some ways. I entered when the Emperor before me stepped down, as well as five others including the Emperor's oldest hatchling. I beat that greedy menace down in the intellectual and physical tests. He beat me in spirit, but that's because his greed took over and that became evident. My hatchling took over after I stepped down, beating a couple candidates and even myself. If you ask, I threw myself in to show he was more fit than I to rule. Makes it easy on the people here to take."

Kraah leaned forward a bit, resting his arms on his stomach. "The boy's done a fine job, but takes too much on himself. But I can't hold his hand all his life. Anyways, to sum up your question, the one who rules is the one most fit to make the right decisions, survive nearly anything reasonable, and keep their priorities in order yet not be concerned when it comes time to step down. So I suppose, in answer, that it is the candidate's sense of moral duty that is the main reason for becoming Emperor. Those who seek to abuse that position would be weeded out right quick."

While Maxwell's dismissal of Petros was certainly blunt, it's apparent that it must take something quite extraordinary to actually ruffle the diplomat. A sheepish yet still confident grin is the only response to Pénélope's rebuke, a grin that turns into a pleasantly surprised yelp at the unexpected splashing.

"Hm..." Max pauses, now thoroughly dripping, brows furrowed in a mock-serious pose of thought. "An intial survey would indicate that the water is cool but not cold, and rather a bit salty. But perhaps we require a second opinion to confirm this assessment."

The false-seriousness breaks into a wide grin as Max kneels and returns the favor, splashing the cool saltwater playfully at the viscountess. Not enough to be considered too boisterous, but just enough to be thoroughly playful, almost boyish even.

One would definitely conclude that Rebecca’s plan almost succeeded in prolonging the inevitable for a few more moments. G’reer was not leading her by as much as she suspected, and as he came down in the water, his foot tangled around hers just after she pushed off from the bottom. Her newly acquired momentum in the opposite direction of the pounce was abruptly changed and her hands, then the rest of her, hit the sandy bottom.

If she had actually been special forces, her enhanced reaction time would have been trained to something much higher than it was, and if that had been the case, she might have still stood a chance of not being ‘it’ for another moment. Even a couple of the members of the government with prior military service, such as D’ron or John, would have stood a chance…

She didn’t. While she was still trying to decide if the foot contact constituted a tag, G’reer landed on her with another pounce converted into a dive, reversing direction faster than she had believed possible for someone so large. A violently expelled breath of air hit the surface a moment later, no doubt lost in the wave action, and she stayed under for long moments until the kzin adjusted enough to grab her and haul her above the surface. The expression on his face was either some sort of victorious satisfaction, annoyance at her attempted underwater escape, or concern because she had been under a long second or two after he had possibly seen all her air escape.

In essence, she basically had no clue as to what was going on behind the very inhuman features. But his words are clear enough before he moves away, leaving Rebecca lying, floating on the surf, trying to get her breath back.

Sure, she still had had some stored oxygen thanks to her implants, and in great necessity, she could even breath water for a little while (about five really slow breaths if she was extremely desperate), such things had to be consciously activated, and having five hundred pounds of bone and muscle land on your stomach drives all of that away when you have no real training.

As she was it now, it was up to her to select a target. Thress she could not see, but she had seen movement a bit away in her direction of travel while underwater. Probably her. But there was no way she could match her speed underwater, not if the female Sakkran was anything like the crocs who inhabited the rivers of the northern jungle of the Federation once submerged.

Nathi, Bruce and Speaker were coming towards her at varying speeds, possibly slowing, though she had no idea of their previous rates of travel, while they might be trying to figure out who she was going to go after. The flying creature pushed on her attentions, but it was moving at the wrong angle for her to identify it solidly, and she had missed Luceh’s entry into the game while fleeing the younger of the two kzin.

No longer prey, Rebecca rolled to her knees, then exploded from the water, her once more black hair streaming behind her as a quick leap took her into shallow enough water to run (though slowly at first) as she headed inland to water not up to her thighs and towards the grouping of the other sentients, her blue eyes focusing on the one she had absolutely no hope of catching.

Kestrel twisted a little, though not entirely uncomfortably, as the wet otter-pup scampered around behind her head, tail flipping against her chest. She giggled and reached up to pet the otter again as the other one – Paige – bounced around enthusiastically.

She blushed a little at the comments on her scent, as Ranisath reached out to tickle Sega softly as she bounded onto Sirithil’s seat.

“I’m Ranisath, this is Sirithil, Kestrel,” he gestured to each in turn, “Alaitaire, Serrah, Farah,” he said, listing them. At the same time, adding electronic profiles for them, “And as for my children, depending on how you count them, either zero, two, fifteen, or two hundred million children. It’s really, really, really, complex. But really, I’ve no children in the sense you mean. Yet, at least,” he laughed musically as she asked about where he came from, “I live all over the place star-ships, metal buildings, and other places. I think it’s also because I am mostly made of metal, though. If you’d like, I can smell of whatever you like…”

‘Don’t you dare...’ the viscountess warned Maxwell firmly, her eyes widening with alarm as she realised what he meant to do.

Pénélope tried desperately to shrink away as he splashed her, instinctively covering her face with her hands and shrieking loudly. The water felt much colder than Maxwell had described, shocking her senses and causing her to gasp breathlessly.

‘Stop! Stop! Wait, you brute!’ Pénélope squealed, blinking through the salty water.

The viscountess’ gauzy thin dress was thoroughly soaked through, its dripping wet muslin fabric clinging to her slender figure in a delightfully revealing manner. Slender tendrils of chestnut brown hair clung damply to her cold, slippery skin, sticking to the side of her face and her neck.

Observing that Maxwell had indeed stopped, Pénélope used the opportunity to trip lightly out of the water, promptly wriggling free of her wet dress and leaving it tangled on the sand. Now in a lovely state of déshabillé, the noblewoman returned to the surf, wading out to about waist depth. She wore a pleasantly scanty, pale saffron yellow bikini, quite a pretty and coquettish affair, though not remarkably revealing when compared with some of the other swimming costumes being worn on the beach. Fiddling to refasten its string neckstrap, the viscountess grinned at Maxwell.

From her shoreside position near the refreshments, the baroness glanced briefly over at Pénélope, watching her cavorting with her newly acquired plaything. Élisabeth pursed her lips in a frown of disapproval before turning back to find Shorty politely waiting for her to speak. Once again, it seemed, Élisabeth had only half heard a question that had been directed at her.

‘Different sentient species in Xirnium? No, heavens no,’ Élisabeth replied quickly.

It soon occurred to the baroness that Shorty might possibly take this response the wrong way, and so she thoughtfully clarified her answer.

‘I mean, historically at least, there did not exist a sizable population of nonhuman people in Xirnium,’ Élisabeth explained. By this she really meant none at all. ‘In recent years, of course, an increasing number of such persons have begun to reside within the Eternal Republic. Faeries, elves and goblins from the Resurgent Dream, for instance. Many of these people have since chosen to pursue naturalisation as Xirniumite citizens.’

Élisabeth, of course, didn’t know for sure if any of this was true. Certainly she had never personally seen any talking beasts or magical creatures in Xirnium, nor did she know anyone who had. Given, however, the Eternal Republic’s recent development of friendly relations with a number of different nations that contained not insignificant nonhuman minorities, Élisabeth reasoned that her statements were not entirely beyond the realm of possibility. That she might personally have doubted them was irrelevant.

The Scolopendran’s next remark, however, intrigued Élisabeth, who wondered thoughtfully as to its meaning.

‘That is my experience as well, madam,’ the baroness replied, looking at Shorty with interest. ‘Although I daresay I’ve not witnessed nearly so great and diverse an array of, um, differences as you undoubtedly have. For me, you see, this is all new,’ Élisabeth explained, vaguely waving her daintily feathered fan to indicate the entirety of the beach, and more importantly its fantastical denizens. ‘For you it is merely another day’s work; or rest, if you prefer.’

Élisabeth smiled again and tried not to worry about how long it would be before Lord Nefarious returned with the drinks.

Naiya looks curiously at Kiara and Tsunami as they make their observations, looking a little confused. “You said we just had to think,” she says, tilting her head slightly to one side. “It isn’t magic just thinking. It’s your magic, and we’re just using it. Not the same, right?”

Of course she’s quickly distracted by Ivan’s actions, as is Marcus, the both of them excitedly cheering him on as he sends the light dragon off amongst the tag participants.

*=*=*=*=*

Nathi sees the crash of water, fur, and flesh that is the switch of ‘it’ from G’reer and Rebecca, and brings herself up short, looking around quickly and pondering her options. She chooses to stay on the more solid wet sand rather than the dry, shifting stuff further out of the surf. Having no idea what the flying light thing is, not having seen what all went on with Kiara and the kids, she only sees that it’s coming at her, and so makes a break for it, which takes her towards G’reer and where Rebecca and he collided, though given the other woman’s chosen course of further inland, perhaps it’ll work out alright in the end for avoidance. In the meantime, it offers the opportunity for more teasing, as she shouts out to the ‘tosh in passing.

“Nice tackle, big guy. Looking just as good wet as dry!”

He didn't, after all, look bedraggled and miserable as one might expect of a cat, given previous experience. Then again, G'reer was as far from the common housecat as she was from say a Capuchin monkey, so perhaps it wasn't too terribly silly an observation.

"Made of metal?" "You look like a hairless monkey!" "Human." "Whatever! How can you be made of metal?" "What type of metal?" Paige leaned in close again and poked Ranisath in the leg with one clawed foretoe. "Are you a machine?" "Can we look at your gears?"

Sega wriggled around until she could face Kestrel. "What do you like him to smell like? I like ice cream. We should have him smell like icecream!" "A sundae!" "Yes! Can you smell like vanilla ice cream with strawberrys and pineapple?"

Sega froze for a moment. "Katryna is calling us! We should go..." Flopping to the ground she placed a paw on his leg. "Ice cream first though!" "Please?"

----

"You're insane."

"Not possible."

Goez sighed and nodded. Technically it wasn't but he still suspected it could happen. He'd seen the movies and Katryna had forwarded him the reports on certain events at the Duma.

"All right, Sand Castle GreySkull it is."

The young ambitious 'ret idly holds up one hand in a politely guarded 'pause' gesture, smiling quite a bit and sincerely too, at least as much as any kzin can. "Oh, I understand, ma'am. I am merely establishing a basis for understanding, and speaking truthfully. You are probably correct in your assessment of our differences; what I may think common and everyday may be beyond the pale for you. Even so, I am still surprised with regularity: no matter how broad I try to expand my horizons, there is always a horizon to hide the next surprise, so to speak."

Bat-wing ears flit in equivalence to her smile. "Today, even, ma'am. While the array of species may not strike me as odd, I was still told this was a diplomatic function and so some of the activities"--loud splash from the background, either from the tag game or something of the Reppies' doing--"caught me rather unexpectedly. I suppose in hindsight I shouldn't have been surprised, but..." She shrugs in a remarkably human fashion, albeit perhaps with far more sinuousness than one would expect from such a gesture. "So it goes. Just an opportunity to live and learn and grow; that's all the Great Hunt is."

* - * - *

G'reer-Captain wades back to shore, taking his time to both relax a bit after the chase and to better cover up his slow coughing-up of seawater. He can't breathe water, under any circumstances, and any attempt at it, accidental or no, fails miserably. Nathi's jibe catches him by surprise, although he does manage a "Likewise!" in response before actually realizing what he's saying. Once brain catches up with mouth he winces, covers it with a shake of his head (being all wet and all), and coughs quietly.

Speaker wanders about tangentially to all this, taking the opportunity to people-watch and assess the situation. The old 'tosh has to catch his breath too after such an extended run against Thress, but it's not like he particularly has to bolt anywhere at the moment anyway.

"Hmph." Ivan frowned for a moment when Speaks failed to react, but shrugged after a moment. He handed the crystal over to Marcus, while giving Naiya and Kiara a nod.

"Magic is all thinkin', wantin', and believin'. That's...that's...uh." He paused to think, then smiled. "That's 'Surdity Theorem."

((OOC: Sorry for the delay- been a bit busy IRL!))

Kiara nods slightly at Ivan's assement. "That's pretty much one way it works. As for this-" She indicates the crystal the kids are playing with. "Sometimes people who believe it and think it really hard can't make something like that work. Usually folks with a knack for it can get it on their first try."

Tsunami bobs her head in agreement. "After all, if you could make somethin' happen be wanting it and believing it enough... I s'pose it wouldn't matter at all if youre folks told ya no."
---

Maxwell grins boyishly at Pénélope's squeal, abating the watery assault while the viscountess sheds her sopping gown and returns to the water after revealing her lovely swimsuit.

"Ah, I'm certain you know the saying that 'all's fair in love and war', hm?" Another broad grin and a polite bow as Max takes in Pénélope's altered appearance. "My apologies if I damaged your dress- I shall see to it personaly that it be restored or suitably replaced if it is beyond repair. Though I must shamefully confess that saffron is far more flattering a color for m'lady, and I am far from displeased to see the dress gone. Some things after all, are better enjoyed when properly displayed."

This last statement is accompanied by a wink and a quick glance at Max's own barely-decent red speedo. Oh yes, the diplomat has more confidence than that idiot guy with the stupid grin in the male enhancement ads. And it's a likely assumption that Max doesn't need any pharmacuetical help to keep up on things.

“I shall be sure to visit Bilbtoria then. I hope His Highness does not kick me out the door once I come in with bags and Fluff here,” she said to Minerva and gave a glance at Fluff, who looked at the young woman and raised his eyebrows.

“But now, my good sirs and ladies,” Vethara said, standing up from her long chair, “I believe I shall go and have a little swim. I shall see you soon unless some prince charming swims by on a giant white seahorse and shining armour to sweep me off my wave.” She pondered for a second. “Or in shining trunks. I fathom swimming in a full suit of medieval armour must not be a bright endeavour.”

With a smile, she took off her hat and her summer dress, revealing a two piece white swim-suit, with blue and gold trimming. The attire was not really anything out of the extraordinary and could not be qualified as indecent. But it did allow observers an extremely marvelous view, making them admit that the mixture of Ros and Taraskath bloods did a particularly fine job.

Having placed her dress on the long chair, the woman proceeded to gather her long hair behind her head and hold it in place with a tie, so that it didn’t get all over her face in the water.

“Nu, Pushok, poidem kupatsa?” she spoke to Fluff as the wolf stood up from his resting spot and yawned.

She then glanced at her main bodyguard, who nodded without saying a word.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I bid yee farewell for a moment," and then the young woman and her wolf were off, with Dolgoslavov following closely behind.

- - -

[OOC: Russian text: “So, Fluff, let’s go for a swim?”]

“No, not a machine, but a little like one…” Kestrel poked Ranisath in the ribs as he spoke, and he obligingly took on the scent of a mint ice cream before the otterkin scampered up the beach. He smiled a little, and leaned back in his chair, apparently turning his mind to other matters.

"Fifteen years, huh? Crazy how fast those go by, sometimes... I've been stuck on Mars for the past fifty, and personally, I'm just glad that when Illaan here steps down as Duchess, I'm all set for a posting in a consulate somewhere with nice beaches..."

"Hey, you're not the only one escaping Mars, you know." Illaan replies. "If I'm still allowed to be blunt... what's Sakkran culture like? I take it the... glare of death... doesn't happen all the time?"

Illaan is, of course, directing this at Joel, and more or less ignoring Sera. She's never spent a great deal of time with _any_ Sakkrans, and her experience with them is limited to, and only _possibly_, walking in the same hall as one, somewhere at the Duma.

It's a slight problem as far as not offending them goes.

Kairis smiled at Vethara as the Taraskovyan took her leave. "I very much doubt he would do such a thing. You would be a most honored guest in the principality."

She then turned back to Kraah. She had listened carefully to what he had to say about who became emperor and how. "Forgive my ignorance, sir, but you also mentioned politicians earlier. How do they achieve their offices? Are they appointed by the Emperor, elected, entitled to office by heredity, selected in contests similar to those in which the Emperor is chosen or do they come into their offices by some other method? I must confess that even since we joined VERITAS, Confederals, myself included, remain rather ignorant about Sakkra's constitutional arrangement and internal affairs."

Kairis took another sip of her drink and smiled as she adjusted herself slightly in her seat, taking a brief moment to locate her husband and sons, just to keep up with where they were. Then she returned her full attention to her host, eager to hear the answer.

Bruce slowed, much as Nathi did, when Rebecca turned their way, and he slowly began to run perpendicular to his previous path, cutting in front of Rebecca and forcing a dangerous direction change on the not so firm surface of sand, if she should elect to come after him.

Rebecca did not. As she noticed Nathi swinging wide around her, and her original target, whom she knew was rather old, looking slightly winded, she decided on an experiment. The flying, well, person, she assumes, appears to be part of the game, given their altitude. There is, in the end, only one way to find out for sure. She changes direction and hurtles after them, waiting for them to run and prove their involvement, or ignore her, and invalidate her target selection.

Luceh pulls around in a sharp left-hand bank, whipping past Nathi and heading decidedly away from Rebecca, following a flight pattern of three or four beats and a glide- just enough to keep a good speed and just enough height not to crash. Fine flying really, the sort of thing that Kiara over with the children would be envious of if she was paying attention. But then, Luceh has an awful lot more experience at flying compared to the other Keeper.

((OOC: Short post, but... yeah. ^^;))

“Oooooh, grazie,” Marcus says breathlessly, gently accepting the crystal from Ivan and turning it over in his hands to better examine it. It’s clear he doesn’t know quite what to do, given so many possibilities. His sister puts a supportive hand on his shoulder as his brow furrows with concentration, though she looks over to Ivan and Kiara questioningly.

“Just thinking and believing? Why can’t more people do magic if that’s all it is?” As with anyone, there’s been a number of things she’s wanted rather badly after all, so logically it follows that if she could make it happen by just believing, why wouldn’t it have worked by now, if she could work this? Of course, all the thought behind the question goes unspoken, though there seems to be, by her expression, a much deeper meaning behind it than what’s let on.

“Just think it, and do it,” Marcus mutters, looking at the crystal, then the glowing dragon. It takes him a bit longer than the other two, though that doesn’t seem to dampen his enthusiasm. And given the way his mind is wandering between ideas on what to do, the movements of the magical toy tend to be erratic. It’s about then he spots Vethara and her large wolf.

“Naiya, look! It’s just like Kostya!” And off the little dragon flits, skimming over the top of the surf and sand towards the trio in a somewhat serpentine fashion.

*=*=*=*=*

Nathi finds herself a bit winded after the extended running, and slows to more of a jog just as Luceh comes tearing past, which takes her by surprise as her attention was ah, elsewhere. She windmills slightly, taking a couple of steps back and letting out a good-natured ‘woah!’, then making another quick dash to the side to make sure she’s well out of Rebecca’s way.

Thinking it’s high time she gives the kids more than a verifying look to make sure they’re behaving, she jogs in that direction, still trying to keep track of the game and who’s going where overall.

Breathlessly, she offers the group a big smile and brief greeting, dropping down to her knees to give both children a warm hug, which Marcus of course complains about, given it’s ‘messing him uuuuuuup’, and Naiya leans into warmly before turning her attention back to what her brother is up to.

The diminutive woman gets back to her feet, glancing in the direction the kids are focused on, and arching a brow slightly.

“Thank you so much for taking time to play with the children,” she says to Kiara and Tsunami. “Please, if they’re any problem, just let me know.” Then looking over at Ivan, she affects a look of surprise.

“You really have grown, Ivan. I remember when you were just a little bambino.”

Since the dragon thing was coming at a straight interception vector with them, the entire trio looked in its direction almost synchronically. Fluff’s gaze was concentrated on the dragonling, Vethara’s gaze soon traveled to a group of children while Dolgoslavov went tense and gave a full perimeter swoop around them, before calculating out that the thing was coming in from the group of children. The next mental calculation was that given the context, a group of children would not send a dragon-like beam of death to kill the one under his protection.

“Ia je vam skazala, Pan leib-gvardii Kapitan, - rasslabtes,” Vethara said with a smile to her bodyguard.

Dolgoslavov inclined his head, but did not utter a word. He was quite tense since the attempt on the Archduchess’es life back in Lorelei, during which her adoptive daughter, one of his men and two bystanders died. The Grand Duke gave him a second chance then, to prove his worth, and Dolgoslavov knew that with all the Orthodox “God blesses the Trinity” talk, there were no third chances.

Fluff, however, was quite intrigued and set out to intercept the dragon. He quickly caught up with the dragon, placing himself right in front of it, spreading his paws to be ready to charge. And then the dragon just went right through him. The expression on the wolf’s face was one of a complete surprise as he momentarily turned around and jumped on the dragon, landing right through it.

Understanding now that it was useless to enter into physical contact with the thing, the wolf sat down and just stared at it. Attempts at scenting were a complete fiasco, leaving the beast quite perplexed as to what exactly to do.

Vethara walked up to her canine companion and patted him with a smile, then setting out towards the group of children. She finally recognized two of them as belonging to none else than Empress Nathicana. The fact that the mother was right by them did help with the identification.

“Non é molto gentile di confondere il mio amico, bravo Signore,” she said to Marcus laughing a little, deeming him the one responsible for Fluff’s little surprise, as the boy was the one with the crystal. Fluff did not appear as amused, still staring perplexed at the light thing whirling around him and trying to hit it with a paw from time to time, just in case it ended up working.

- - -

[OOC:
Russian text: “I have told you to relax, Sir Captain of the leib-Guards.”
Italian text: “It is not very kind to confuse my friend, good Sir.]

The children laugh delightedly at the big wolf’s initial reactions, neither in a mean-spirited way. Having grown up with a similar animal in the family, to them, Fluff appears as another potential playmate. The fact that not being able to catch the dragon might be frustrating doesn’t even enter their minds right off the bat.

Nathi divides her attention between the kids, their target, the Shogunate folks, and the tag game, glancing back and forth. At Vethara’s arrival and comment, she brushes a stray strand of hair back from her face and smiles, while Naiya shrinks up against her mother a bit shyly, and Marcus offers the woman a sheepish little grin while toeing the sand a bit.

* “Mi dispiace, Signora,” he says looking up at Vethara, though his glance shifts to Fluff and back a time or three, the glowing dragon still hovering well within reach. “Stavamo avendo soltanto un poco divertimento ....” This accompanied by one of his more winning smiles – the sort reserved for when one finds oneself in a bit of trouble and is trying to ‘cute’ their way out of it.

“Busted,” whispers Naiya, trying to hide a grin.

“I’m sorry, Vethara,” Nathi says sincerely, having recognized the woman both from a long-ago visit, and updated reports. “I hope they haven’t been too much trouble with this new toy. Marcus, perhaps you should play with it elsewhere, and not bother these nice people?”

Marcus of course isn’t daunted, and after a respectful ‘yes, mama’, he’s sent the reptilian light back down the beach … and as soon as his mother isn’t looking, straight after the tent with the food, flitting between, and through, the various persons there, figuring if the wolf was confused, it’s likely others might be as well. Besides. Some of them he knew had a good sense of humor. And others, well … they looked like they could use a good laugh. Too stuffy.


* “I’m sorry, ma’am, /We were only having a little fun.”

Lord Nefarious wandered over to the drinks and gazed at the choice. He hoped that beer was not the only option, but he had a bad feeling that it was. It was a beach barbeque, after all, and Charity had explained that it would mean less society function and more the opportunity to experience ‘slumming it’. A technical term, as she explained it.

Not really sure what either lady would prefer, he picked up a selection of some of the drinks available, including alcoholic and soft. He was busy trying to balance a couple of glasses in his arms, when a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“Would you like some help, Your Royal Highness?”

Damien turned around carefully and looked at his aid. “It is about time you made yourself useful,” he stated as he passed the glasses to Charity and juggled the bottles he was also carrying, making them better balanced.

“I see you have made some friends,” Charity stated, as she took a moment to look at the two people Lord Nefarious had walked away from. She could not help the smile that appeared on her lips at the thought of her boss chatting to a giant cat. “I see you have met a Scolopendran.”

Looking quickly between his aid and his previous companions, he nodded his head. “Yes, indeed. Other than her connection to the Dominion, I can tell you little else. At the same time, my knowledge of my other companion is very little, other than she likes opera and the arts.” He turned back to Charity and smiled. “Of course, if you would not mind giving me a little background while I retrieve some refreshments.”

As Lord Nefarious located a tray, and began to place the assortment of drinks, Charity shared with him the little amount of background knowledge she had on both nations. Once she was finished with her short brief, Charity placed the glasses she was holding onto the tray and watched as Damien picked up the tray.

“Should you need anything else, Sir, I shall be done by the sea,” Charity smiled, and picked up her towel and her own drink.

“Try not to enjoy yourself too much,” Damien stated, making hard for his aid to know if he was being serious or not. She decided to assume he was, and would just ignore his advice anyway. “If you will excuse me, I have an errand to finish.”

Lord Nefarious carried the tray carefully back over to where his two companions were still standing. He waited for any sentences they were in the middle of to be finished, before speaking.

“I brought a selection for you to choose from,” Damien announced as he presented the tray to both ladies. “Unfortunately, Baroness, our first fears were realised about the variety, but I am sure you will find something suitable among these.”

“It is alright, Nathicana,” Vethara answers with a smile, figuring that if the Empress decided to be on first names, then going off into styles and titles was silly. “No trouble caused whatsoever. Isn’t it, Fluff?”

Fluff understood that they were talking about him, but having never heard much Italian before (and, thus, unaccustomed to the accents and tones of the words composing the language), the beast did not quite catch what his human friend wanted of him. And so the wolf witnessed as the dragon flew off, resisting the temptation to chase after it, and then looked at Vethara, tilting his head and twitching his ears.

Taraskovyan black wolves, despite their natural role as four legged killers, were quite playful in the right context and, despite all their huge muscles, could tackle a playmate very gently and with extreme care. But something that appeared alive, had a volume, but was not tied to a given area (thus not a hologram), flew around freely, could not be touched or scented, could only confuse them. Despite their rather advanced intellect, they were still beasts.

The Archduchess gave the wolf a reassuring smile and look, which made him lose current interest with her and the distant dragon and look over the party of various creatures in front of him, from kids to dragons.

Vethara, in the meantime, looked back at the Empress. She remembered that Nathicana was given with a black wolf of her own, and apparently the woman did remember a few notes from the user’s manual. And then her gaze fell on the little girl standing by her mother.

“Well then, while I am here, let us make friends. My name is Vethara, what is yours?” the woman said with a smile. “And what is the name of that brave gentleman?” she added giving a nod at Marcus who appeared quite busy with something.

Luceh was fast, and not encumbered by having to cut through the water, but still, Rebecca, by working very hard, was beginning to gain on the flying sentient. She was desperately hoping to gain enough ground that before the person went over too deep a water for her to run, she could catch them.

But the banking away had been confirmation enough. The chase was on, and Rebecca piled on the speed as best she could, leaping over the waves instead of trying to bull through them with her not all that significant body mass.

Bruce, meanwhile, slowed to a stop, noticing that G’reer was panting on the shore spitting up water, and Nathi was looking after her children, Thress was still vanished under the water, and Speeker also seemed to be catching his breath a bit. Perhaps the game would be winding to a halt. He let a grin slowly spread over his face was he watched his lover chase rather childishly after the Reploid.

Kiara flushes pink at Nathi's arrival, and Vethara's shortly thereafter. She's always been a researcher first and foremost, and divine swordy thing and mystic weirdness aside, she's still not particularly accustomed to the more diplomatic attention that the Keepers tend to get. She's there on vaction, after all!

"Oh... ah, no problem at all." Kiara manages to reply without too much of a stammer. "It's just a little harmless trick I came up with."

"Pff, Kiara's too modest. She's probably been having as much fun watching these guys playing around with her 'little trick' as they're having playing with it!" Tsunami clearly lacks her partner's modesty. At least, the little mechanical dragon is less shy about it. She tips her head in Vethara's direction. "Sorry if they've got fuzzy there confused."

Of course, Tsunami is a little dragon that <i>can</i> be touched and scented, and she's about the same size as the light dragon. (In fact, the reploid probably smells faintly of jasmine and vanilla from the soap she uses several times a day. Long story short, Tsunami is perhaps the only reploid to have developed an obsessive-compulsive behavior about bathing.)
---

And over in the game of tag, Luceh isn't flying in a straight line- after all, a straight shot would put her well beyond a reasonable running speed and where's the fun in that? Instead she weaves left and right, altering direction often enough to make the chase a challenge, but a far cry from unfair. The blue-scaled Keeper also takes advantage of those who are taking a breather, winging around or over them to try and confuse her persuer.

If Rebecca can keep on the sudden changes in direction (not difficult, given that it's tough to hide the tilting of her wings that are required for sharp turns), a grab for Luceh's tail wouldn't be out of the question.

Rebecca, on the other hand, in quite the contrast to Luceh, runs in something approaching a straight line. If she does not, she has little to no chance of catching up. She elects not to divert for the stationary former members of the game, concluding that their inactivity means they wish to be taken out of the game – and besides that, she now has her heart set on catching the flyer.

At which she seems to be doing a somewhat good job. As she grows closer, she finally judges it to be within her capabilities, and leaps for the trailing tail, arms outstretched. It is not a proper leap, in the sense of the Kzin, but more of a lunge.

She does not want to be airborne and fall on her face should she miss, after all. Or maybe worse, drag the flyer down hard if she does manage to grab on.

Selection is good, and Shorty thanks His Royal Highness for the opportunity before accepting a blend of tropical fruit juices. Rum, especially something spiced, would go well with it, but she's on duty (in her own mind at least) and it would be unseemly. Nearly as unseemly as her preferred mead-like alcohols, especially in the volumes she would have to consume in order to even get mildly relaxed off the stuff. She's only 'Shorty' by kzinti standards, well over two meters tall and still quite the big girl even if lightly built (again by kzinti standards). "Thank you, sir. I'm sorry to see that they didn't have anything more to your liking, but I'm not too surprised. Common fare seems to suit Advisor Kraah's idiom." That this is actually a good thing in 'Pendran eyes need not be said. "If you would be interested, sir, ma'am, I do have a bottle of Delancourt in my shuttle that I would be more than willing to share."

Being relatively close personal friends with the Dread Lady has its advantages, especially when one wants a line on a bottle of exceedingly good wine for a decent price and the express purpose of buttering up those with expensive tastes should the situation arise. That Shorty also managed to, ah, 'persuade' her consort not to strip down the Selene luxury shuttle's interior to Spartan milspec standards for more or less the same reason simply indicates just how ambitious this ratcat can be when she puts her mind to it. "We were discussing the presence of different sentient species and how that relates to life experiences. If you don't mind my asking, sir, is there a variety of sentient species in your homeland?"

Katt did eventually gather up her clothes and actually attempt to look decent, among the others on the beach, but she had only just finished when Lor noticed and trodded on over, actually concerned about Katt for once. Still, all Katt got was a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

For those that knew either of them, for Lorain this would be the equivalent of bursting out in song and dance. The mere gesture was all Katt needed, however, and she returns to enjoying herself. Katt pretty much /does/ burst out into song and dance, cartwheeling again to try and ensnare some poor fools attention and drown them in diplomacy and flowery words. Lor is still the one to try and remain unnoticed regardless, as has long been habit for her.

Joel nods as he does a little butt-shiffle to avoid the imminent drip assault on his head from the mischevious Allanean. "The glare of death? Not common at all. Sakkrans were originally, and I guess instinctually to a degree, a tribal bunch. Once one has been accepted as close to family as they can get, they get veeeery protective of them. Kinda like the old saying 'Mess with one, mess with them all'. He looks over to where the pair in question stand and socialize.

"In the case of Bondayehr, the female near him and himself are both friends from their university days. I don't know exactly what happened to make them tight, but that's the way it is. He was distressed, and that translates into abger for them. And like I said earlier 'Mess with one....." His hands slap together with a slight clapping sound.

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

Kraah leans back and turns his head to see the scene of 'tag' going on around them. "Serrah Kairis, it's a good questioon you've posed." Clawed fingers skritch at the leathery tendrils on his chin. "Usually it depends on the Emperor at the time. In my run, I chose several of the best and brightest that the local prefecture had to offer. From there the people themselves would elect an official. Much like the Emperorship, holding any office isn't guaranteed by heredity. Local and regional governors, diplomats and other political officers are selected based on their merits and how they would be best applied to their field of interest. The wheat is separated from the chaff and then the people who these political officers would have influence over are elected democratically. After that, they normally remain in office for 20-50 years or so, depending on their position and satisfaction rating, and then they go through the whole process again."

Kraah removed his shades and placed them on the sand near him. A noisy sip from his drink later, he continued. "We don't usually let everything about us be known to easily. We're not a terribly suspicious bunch, but we don't volunteer info freely. You never know who's listening, or why."

Kairis looked more than a little surprised at Kraah's last statement, something she covered by taking a sip of her drink. "I suppose that is fair enough." She smiled slightly as she adjusted herself in her chair, taking yet another sip and surveying the other guests. She had recognized a Xirniumite accent earlier but she did not recognize who it belonged to and she was a bit disappointed that no one from the Xirniumite Government, properly speaking, had decided to attend. She had already spoken with Vethara. Lord Nefarious seemed like someone she should meet but he also seemed rather personally engaged at the moment. Kairis had no interest in interrupting youthful flirtation.

She turned back to Kraah. "You know, after their first out of system mission during the recent crisis, we've reformed out interstellar resrouces into a Deep Space Agency, primarily charged with exploration rather than simply with defense against space powers and cooperation with our more galactically minded allies. It seems to be going rather well so far. The stuff works much better once you get out past Arteme."

Kraah seemed to perk up a notch. There were many unfamiliar voices and manners of speaking present, and it started to become a bit of a distraction. But the mention of a Deep Space Agency keened him a bit. "Is that so? If you weren't briefed, one of my greatest accomplishments in my tenure was spearheading our Stellar Exploration and Defense fields. Went from a few trips around the system to deep space. Had my best engineer at the time on it. He retired from imperial service since, but I keep him on the payroll in my corporation ran by the eminent H'zta and myself."

He stirs his drink idly, while his mental cogs start turning so fast and furiously you'd think he was about to light up a city district with the energy output. "Biggest step in that direction was the creation of the Harmonic Drive. Not as fast as some methods of trans-light travel, but reliable, light on energy needs, and above all accurate. I could give him a paid retainer to assist your efforts in deep space."

Luceh glances back over her shoulder just in time to realize she doesn't have enough time to get her tail out of the way. In other words, Rebecca does land a firm grab on the end of the scaly appendage. Of course, the sudden change in the Keeper's weight and center of gravity has only one possible effect so close to the ground.

She hits the water with a yelp, her aerial balance completely shot. Her earlier little magicworking does its job though, diverting dangerous impact force away from her wings. Her momentum kicks up a nice spray of saltwater, and it takes her a moment to get her feet under her again. Not one of her better landings, and Luceh knows if Kiara's watching, there will be teasing later. Well-earned teasing that the blue-scaled Keeper certainly deserves, but teasing nonetheless.

"Bleh!" She shakes her hair from her face, spitting out a mouthful of water. "This means it is my turn to give chase, doesn't it?"

Kairis took one more sip and then tentatively placed her drink between her legs just above the knee before shivering slightly at the cold and instead leaning down to press it securely into the sand for the time being. She then folded her hands in her lap as she listened to Kraah. "I think that we could use him. Of course, we would want to be able to do something for you as well." It was a statement born of sincere politeness but also one of caution. It was always best to reciprocate soon and in a planned way because unpaid debts could quickly turn unpredictable.

"Of course, we are doomed to a certain perpetual amateurism in matters of this kind of science or at least we are unable to import this kind of science with any sort of reliability. Of course, it is also harder for the advantages of this kind of science to be used against us. One of those tricks of the modern universe." Kairis half-lamented.

Lord Nefarious smiled at both of his companions, and selected himself a drink, before lowering the tray and placing it on the ground. As most of the drinks were in sealed cans or bottles, there was little risk of them getting sandy. He looked back at the Scolpendran as he righted himself, and gave both her questions some thought.

Damien replied almost instantly. “Your offer of the wine is very kind. I would be honoured to break open a bottle with you, but at the moment I am happy to indulge in the local supply.” He lifted his drink to his lips and took a sip, having also opted for a non-alcoholic choice. The fruit had a little kick to it, which was also good in hot climates. “This is not too bad,” he announced as he lowered his glass.

“As to your other question, the Empire of Tartarus does have sentient species other than human, usually in the form of tourists or foreign dignitaries,” Damien explained before taking another sip of his drink. “It does not have, I have to say, any natives other than humans.” He paused and looked at the Baroness to ensure that her drink was suitable, then continued. “Our major involvement with different sentient species really occurs off of Tartarian soil.”

The notion of life as a great hunt was certainly something that Élisabeth could sympathise with; although, as she glanced briefly at the lean form of Lord Nefarious chatting with another lady, a sight that filled her with feminine jealousy, the baroness rather doubted that the interpretation she had in mind was anything like that of Shorty’s.

Silently wondering what she might say to her next, Élisabeth smiled politely at the Scolopedran and touched nervously at her feathery blonde hair. Like Shorty, the noblewoman had also been rather surprised by the nature of this informal gathering, although in quite different a way. For one thing, she hadn’t expected the party to be held on the beach, merely by the beach. The sand and heat here was just intolerable. Also, she had expected less... less talking cats, for instance. Yes, why couldn’t she call them that privately? It’s what they were.

Fortunately Lord Nefarious returned to their company before the baroness’ silence had stretched to too uncomfortable a length. Élisabeth smiled happily, more happily than she had intended, at Damien’s arrival, whilst her large, expressive blue eyes attempted as best they might to convey to him just what a trial it had been to entertain the Scolopedran alone.

‘Oh it seems you’ve quite outdone yourself, Lord Nefarious,’ remarked Élisabeth demurely.

Lightly placing a gloved hand on the man’s shoulder, for balance of course, the baroness leant closely to inspect the drinks. Élisabeth tried not to let too much disappointment mark her pretty features as she noted the limited range of the selection, frowning ever so slightly as she attempted to decide which drink was the least objectionable to her tastes. In the end she chose a plain, chilled orange juice from about the middle of the tray, biting her lower lip as she reached over to daintily pluck out the frosted glass tumbler.

Although careful not to accidentally knock over any of the other drinks on the tray, Élisabeth was not so careful that she did not inadvertently press one of her soft breasts against Lord Nefarious arm. The noblewoman pretended of course not to notice her careless contact, but the knowing, coquettish smile she gave the man suggested otherwise.

‘Yes, wine would be just lovely, but pray stay with us for now,’ Élisabeth indicated as she turned to Shorty, still grinning to herself with nervous self-satisfaction.

As things go, that tends to explain the vibes Shorty's getting from the conversation--she's unusual in more ways than one, most like. Oh well; there's a dearth of aristocracy and aristocratic sentiment in the Segments so it goes both ways to some extent. She accepts the answers to her question, and the replies to her offer, with a polite nod. "I see. The Segments are something of a melting pot, to use a perhaps trite phrase, but the vast majority are still human, believe it or not." The last is said with a demur sense of humor as she glances over at the tag-players, then her consort and H'zta over by the tent. "Not that it would be a reasonable guess given our representation here, all things considered."

Even if up until now her consular duties have been mostly administrative with a healthy peppering of direct interaction with the Dominion government and populace on a local level, she's still a diplomat, and there's not all too much difficulty in seeing when someone's on the prowl, so to speak. This suggests the careful balancing act of not staying so long that she begins to annoy her new acquaintances, who may have other things on their mind, but not leaving so quickly as to offend the polite sensibilities of those who have asked her to stay around for just a little while longer, even if they were just being polite. She ponders this for a moment when the opportunity arises, wrapping her mouth around a straw and taking another dainty (for a 'ret) sip of juice. Her training, plus a lifetime of experience, allows her to apparently ignore Élisabeth's grin and the exposed teeth that suggests.

"Even then, I cannot claim that I am not learning anything from this. For example, there is very littleof anything--that is to say, nothing at all--that would classify as aristocracy in the Segments, not that it's colored our relations with nations that do." Professionally. That doesn't keep the average joe from thinking 'noble bloodlines' are a silly idea. "The Dominion has only recently adopted an aristocratic institution, and despite working with a few self-admittedly minor nobles on at least a weekly basis you can probably imagine it's a bit different than now. That is what I meant, ma'am," she says towards the Baroness, "when I suggested we are probably both learning something new. It makes life interesting, at least..." She smiles gently, ears winking again. She thinks. A nation can have a nobility and still also have a tradition of democracy, so it may be a bad idea to suggest either of the two represent an autocratic nation when they might not... although Gehenna Tartarus is a long-standing member of the Non-Democratic Alliance. Besides, there's no need to ask for any opinions on 'Pendran egalitarianism quite at the moment. "On the other hand, I am lucky in that my race's sub-society is structured on something more like noble bloodlines than the rest of Scolopendran culture, so perhaps I can relate a little better than most of my peers."

It's not a perfect translation, what with the Patriarchy being highly meritocratic itself and 'noble bloodlines' simply being a matter of setting the bar rather high and having to live up to one's blood rather than getting anything rather nice out of it in due course... tricky when one is the daughter of a Sky Marshal, but still. "You both mentioned tourism, so pardon my ignorance as I ask what there is to see in your nations? I don't believe the International Relations Section has any representative travelogues out yet; at least, none that I've seen." The gentle tone of voice she adopts for the last sentence suggests a quiet professional joke.

* - * - *

Great, the person now 'it' has airpower. And magic. Well, if using augments or natural abilities isn't cheating, then neither is that... and it doesn't keep the two male ratcats in the game from glancing at each other and bolting towards Luceh before doing a SAM break just short of her in opposite directions. Teasing? Yes, most certainly. But that's how you're supposed to face challenges as Heroes--head on.

* - * - *

Back at the tent, H'zta listens politely to her business partner's quiet dealings before speaking up herself at the juncture of mutual assistance. "I am quite certain we could arrange some sort of mutually agreeable compensation. As the good Advisor said, we are partners in crime, at least in those places where capitalism is a crime." Easy smile and a wink of her ears. "And as magnanimous as the Advisor certainly is, I'm certain he's not really offering the free use of one of our best assets--and friends."

She prods ol' Leatherneck gently with a chuckle, adopting a more folksy style of speech. It's an obvious affectation, which means something when someone's trained in the social chameleon aspects of diplomacy. "What're'ya tryin' to do, put us all out'o business?"

Bondayehr watches all of this with his usual gentle smirk, then decides to go a 'wandering along the coastline. It's not a patrol. Really. It isn't. Some interesting critters occasionally wash up. That he keeps an eye on the kids still is completely irrelevant.

Kraah almost seems ready to jump out of his chair, even though he makes no discernable motion to do so. "Put us out of business indeed!" Then he mocks an air of pomp. "My fine madame, it would put me ill at ease to even entertain the thought of such a horrid prospect." Shifts once again into his normal method of speech. "I'm thinking more along the lines of quid-pro-quo. After all, an imprompt agreement has been met to school some of our less public members in arts unknown. It would only be right to return the favor, so to speak."

His voice drops a couple octaves lower as he eyes Kairis with one eye. "Besides, it would be good to see how other species aside from our own interact with our technology. Might open up avenues of use we haven't considered or tried in the past. And I could see Jouuha taking the opportunity to guage the usefulness of this drive for other peoples."

“Much appreciated,” Nathi replies, still smiling. “They’re used to playing with Kostya at home, but sometimes I think they forget that he’s used to them, and other animals aren’t. He’s been a truly wonderful addition to the family, and we can’t possibly thank your people enough for gifting him to us.”

Nathicana looks down at Naiya at Vethara’s question. The little girl glances up at her mother, then steps forward slightly, holding up her hand in greeting. “My name is Naiya, Signora – and he is my brother Marcus.” The last with a nod in the boy’s direction, which also draws the attention of his mother.

“Marcus! Stop pestering the other guests!” Nathi says sharply enough to get his attention without being too rude, she hopes.

Marcus offers a disappointed ‘awwww’, kicking slightly at the sand, then handing the crystal over to Ivan again, reading his mother’s expression clearly enough. “Maybe if we get away from parents and stuff we can find something really fun to do,” he whispers to his new playmate, giving his mother a sidelong glance. “And not get grouched at.” It isn’t as though the folks eating had paid much attention to the antics anyway, and surely, if they looked, they could find an entertaining use for this rather impressive new toy.

Turning slightly to Kiara and Tsunami, Nathicana smiles again. “Still, it’s much appreciated. I know they can be a bit of a handful. As for the ‘trick’, where we come from it’s a rarity. And I know fairly well just how accomplished you Keepers are with your talents. It’s nice of you to share some of that with the little ones.”

The game of tag seems to have shifted once again, and at the moment, she seems to be the only one slightly out of it – which is fine, for now. It gives her a chance to re-gather herself, and give the general area another once-over, plotting where she’d rejoin when it was polite to do so. At least for a little bit. All this running about would have to be paid for eventually, and the delicious scents of the fare offered was already making her mouth water.

Rebecca smiled at the Keeper, and quickly released her tail as they both slide through the water, until they finally come up for air. Rebecca spit out the water she’s swallowed as well. Just because she can breathe water a little bit does not make it any fun.

“Tag, you’re it,” she squealed excitedly, her victory making her rather happy. “No returns.” She watched for a moment as the kzin take up the challenge of having an airborne tagger, and whispered, before Luceh can take off again, “Bruce is the only one to not be it yet, I believe.” She indicated her lover with an inclination of her head in his direction, where he’s standing about looking rather lost in the surf halfway up his calves. Though he is clearly watching them.

"That sounds like a fair deal." Kairis said. "It is so much easier to get things done when speaking informally, I believe. Of course, in my country at least there are channels I have to go through formally but there should be no difficulty. You can safely count on things working out as we've decided."

"Of course, you do not need deals just to interact with us. Our borders are relatively open and any Sakkran who so desired would have few if any problems beyond the usual paperwork in obtaining a visa. Most of what there is to know about us is contained in millions of books and journals which any Sakkran could purchase. We value people-to-people contact very highly, especially with friendly nations." Kairis said with a warm smile.

She settled back and took a moment to survey the beach. "Have you ever noticed how young many human high-level political and diplomatic personalities seem to be? I don't think I've ever quite understood why that happens in so many nations."

H'zta chuckles. Her own fur's a bit grey around the edges. "I have heard banter from the OPO that it derives from the same cause on why there are so many monarchies and absolutist states, and why lifespans seem to be so prolonged. I say it is just because a lot of people are duped by a pretty face. It certainly cannot be because the technology of these days allow people to reach maturity any faster, or be any more wise beyond their years... all these young leaders with one foot still in the crib, sadly, seem to act below their age much less actually to it."

Kraah nods slightly. "Good good. All we'd need is to throw the idea at Jouuha's head and see if he puts his stamp to it." The conversation shifts a bit towards a new topic.

Ol' Leatherneck rests his head on his hand, propping himself up a bit. "Don't underestimate the young. Sure, there's plenty of foolish people thrown into a situation beyond their years, but I have a belief that it's because the youth are quite adaptable. Sure they act the child, but the novelty wears off and they throw themselves in fully with zeal into filling their roles. That could be one reason so many political hob-knobbers are young."

His hand waves about in the air in a flourishing gesture. "Of course, it's also a theory of my mates that the young are put on the fore of whatever nation's political sphere they may be from to foment political marriages. Say nation X is a warlike group with a penchant for manufacturing, while nation Y is a peaceful people with a penchant for food production. A political marriage occurs and nation X has the support of Y. Now X has ample food supplies and support for imperialistic leanings through their alliance, while Y gains the protection of a military powerhouse. Marrying off a pair of older political officers will probably yield far less auspicious results as the bickering that would come from a pair each set in their ways would nullify the marriage due to irreconcilable differences. This is, of course, only a theory." He closes his eyes as he takes a long drink from his mug, emptying it and signaling for a refill.

Luceh brushes some of her hair from her face, yelping in surprise when the two k'zin bolt past. In moments she's grinning with excitement, her small fangs showing.

"Thank you for the recommendation." The Keeper glances in the direct Rebecca indicates, shaking water from her wings. "I shall keep that in mind."

A take-off from waist-deep in the water is utterly impractical without some minor abuse of the inherent powers of the Keepers, but Luceh's eager to get to the hunt. It might not be an aerial game of tail-chase, but the challenge remains and she can't wait to tackle it. So with a brief whirl of forcibly relocated air striking spread blue wings, Luceh launches herself airborne, likely showering Rebecca with a spray of wind-driven water.

Now that she's It, Luceh no longer limits her altitude and spirals upward, surveying the vicinity and the available targets. For the moment, the k'zin are the most challenging (and therefore the most fun), so she banks sharply in a high pursuit of G'reer, wings pumping steadily as she switches from climbing to racing flight, and eventually trading height for speed in a headfirst dive fit to make any aerial predator proud.
---

"Yeah, Kiara was mentioning that Naiya there's got a knack for it already." Tsunami bobs her little blue head. "Talent like that could probably be honed nicely with some proper training."

Kiara still fumbles her words. "Oh, it's nothing. I mean, they're good kids and... eh, might as well enjoy it since I'm not having any, y'know?"

G'reer-Captain may be a Hero, but it's not like he can exactly change potential energy into kinetic energy quite as well as someone swooping down like a hawk upon high. Plus, keeping an eye on his six o'clock high is hard, so instead of concentrating on speed he instead darts from side to side, trying to stay random enough to at least provide a challenge. Once he sees the dive, his only plan is to reverse direction as sharply as he can--forcing a steeper dive--before sprinting and try to jink out of the way at the last moment. This way, the Keeper can't just pull up and come alongside; running away would be helpful because of it. By doing this, it becomes more like a game of chicken where the 'tosh has the nice relatively-solid ground backing him up.

It's probably not going to be enough, given the nature of the adversary, but hey. Just a game.

Kairis shrugged slightly. "That certainly is odd, if true. Nothing in my experience seems to support the notion that many nations seek political marriages between officers of public trust as opposed to royalty, much less that this influences their public policy but I have seen stranger things. Suffice it to say that the contemporary world in large part just doesn't make sense and you often simply have to accept things for what they are."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully, seeming a bit agitated by the idea. It wasn't the idea alone but a more general strangeness in how a great many nations conducted themselves as though they were merely a single will to a degree not satisfactorily explained by even the most absolutist or totalitarian of regimes or the broadest of national consensuses.

She picked her drink back up and took another sip. "Your party certainly seems to be a great success. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves and a few of the young people seem to have paired up for the evening."

A slight smile pulled at the corners of Lord Nefarious’ lips as he once more witnessed the less than subtle actions of the Baroness. His mind has already gone over the pros and cons of the situation, and currently the only con he had discovered was the fact that they were on a beach. Oh, for the solitude of a more secluded spot. It was strange how suddenly appealing an opera would be.

With his mind was still running through those thoughts, he turned to the Baroness and finished his smile, as his gaze briefly caressed her form before finding her eyes. “I aim to please, milady,” he said, his voice betraying a little of his inner considerations.

Shaking his mind free and bringing his attention back to the conversation, he listened intently as Shorty spoke. He nodded his head at some of her points, his eyes having left the Baroness as he looked at the Scolopendran. “Life is all about learning, that is a fact. Although, there are times I wish I already knew everything, it would have having to embarrass oneself with missing facts.”

He took another sip of his drink, as he pondered the question on tourism. It was always a difficult topic. One man’s ideal holiday destination was another man’s hell, after all. He gave a polite chuckle at the joke. “I believe the Empire of Tartarus has a little of everything and at least something that would appeal to many tourists. Other than the basic walks through history in the shape of historic places and buildings, some interesting scenery and some things for the less cultured, it has nothing that many other nations have to offer. Tourism is more an opportunity to experience how another man lives.”

He paused for a moment, his glass once more cradled in his hand. “Personally, when I visit another nation, I like to learn a little of the history and meet people. Take this trip, before today I had never met a Scolopendran or a Xirniumite. And I am honoured to have finally had the pleasure.” He looked at the Baroness with a warmer smile.

Nathi arches a brow slightly at Tsunami’s comment, while Naiya looks up at her mother with a curious sort of knowing expression tinged with a touch of expectation. “Not … unsurprising, I suppose,” the woman murmurs quietly, mostly to herself as she looks down at her daughter and smiles softly, reaching out to brush back a stray whisp of hair with her fingertips. Other than that, she gave no indication one way or another whether or not she viewed such potential training in a positive light or not.

And then what Kiara says hits her, and she looks over to the Keeper, her expression softening further. “I didn’t realize how much you’d sacrificed to become who and what you are. I’m so sorry Kiara. There is always adoption – I know there are unfortunately many children in need of a good family … and barring that,” she says slowly, hoping she’s not being too forward but feeling awkward all the same, “Shodey … well I don’t really know what her limitations are, but one could always ask if any options exist. Still, thank you again. And should you really be up to dealing with my two adorable little monsters, you’re always welcome to visit. The villa has a beautiful view of the city from where we’re at, and there’s plenty of room for an aerial approach.”

The last is delivered with a friendly smile, thinking back to another friend she had ‘drop in’, literally, once upon a time, which of course leads her to look around for a moment til she sees Bondayehr, assuring herself he’s at least not seeming to be working before turning her attention back to the folks here at hand. In her looking, she sees the game is still afoot, and seems to have taken wing so to speak.

“I should probably decide if I’m still in or out,” she says with a chuckle. “Probably not fair taking a break like this, but I had to stop and check on the kids, and thank you folks for putting up with them.”

Nathi’s words about the gift do touch a rather painful string with the Archduchess, as it was the Ruling Council that offered the cub, in a bid to garner more PR points. The same Ruling Council she had to flee for fear of her life. After all, when junta-controlled tanks point their barrels at the Winter Palace and the life-guards are out in combat outfits with their own armoured vehicles prepared to defend the Palace to the last drop of blood, it does hint on a possible violent end.

“They are truly wonderful,” Vethara said, none of the above thoughts reflecting on her face. “My kin would have had quite a hard time surviving without them in the first place,” she laughed a bit.

“It is truly a pleasure to meet you, Naiya,” the Archduchess said as she shook the girl’s hand. “And it is surely a pleasure to meet your brother, whenever he’s not busy having fun.”

With that, she glanced back at her wolf and with a slight gesture beckoned him over. Fluff got his butt lazily off the sand and walked over closer to Vethara and the other people.

“And this is Fluff,” the woman introduced the beast to the girl. “He may appear a bit haughty, but he is a true darling. Aren’t you?”

She ruffled the fur on his head a little; the wolf looked at the woman in a ‘whatever you say’ way and then looked at Naiya, tilting his head and twitching his ears.

“Fluff, this is Naiya,” Vethara finished the introductions at hand.

"Mmmm" Kraah takes a long drink of the newly-arrived mug of some exotic juice that made its way into his hand. "Tasty. Anyways, I gave up trying to figure out what prompts other nations to do what they do. Not really my job anymore. I've spent more sleepless cycles than I care to remember trying to do just that."

He looks about a bit. His eyes being positioned on opposing sides of his head allows him a 300 degree field of view, barring obstructions. "It's interesting to see the pairing rituals from other lands. Randy bunch, aren't they? Heh heh. My mate would have a field day here, trying to size up people for jewelery that she makes. Used to be something she'd offer at diplomatic meetings."

Out of all the Keepers, well, the old batch from the Valley of Dragons at least, Luceh has without a doubt the least amount of combat experience. So when she sees her selected target running toward her, she does try and steepen her dive to match the decreasing horizontal distance to the target.

While she may not know much of combat tactics however, she does know a great deal about flying. Namely that tagging the k'zin from a high and now nearly-vertical dive would prove difficult in terms of stopping. Which gives her a narrow window of opportunity to tag G'reer depending on when she breaks the dive. Too soon, and she'll be too high to reach him. Too late... well, that would be a bad landing to rival Kiara's worst. Still, she's had a lot of flying experience, and she attempts it anyway, snapping her wings open at the last possible moment...

... and misses because she timed her braking manuever with the peak of the k'zin's stride in mind, rather than the downward portion.

Instead of tagging G'reer, she whips by just overhead, the momentum of her dive turned into horizontal speed and a steep climb to try and stall to get turned around. Which of course takes some time, that sort of dive isn't stopped or turned completely back on itself in an instant, which gives the k'zin plenty of time to gain some distance.
---

If Kiara was flustered before, the open invitation to just drop in on the home of a very powerful head of state cinches the matter. "Oh, that's really- I mean, I'm just a researcher-"

Tsunami thwacks her partner on the leg with her tail. "What she means to say is thank you very much. Kiara doesn't get out of the Valley that often these days unless it's on business. Probably gonna take her a couple decades or so before she gets used to the whole 'stuff out of legend' routine."

G'reer-Captain ducks as the 'it' Keeper blasts overhead, belly nearly skidding a bit over the sand. He looks over his shoulder as Luceh tries to bleed off momentum in a bit of flare and swooping stall, and figures her next move to be a much less dramatic dive, which he won't nearly have as much chance to avoid. The next most reasonable strategy is to get into a target-rich environment, and so he lists his options that way. Thress is out to sea, Speeks has definitively bolted, Nathi seems out for the moment, and of the Fedrats one has got the right of no-tagbacks. So no luck there.

Eh, may as well trot along the shore, then, more or less back towards the center of the group. If there's anything he needs to do, the 'tosh may as well keep his options open.

Phew. After that run, I needed a breather. Speaks may be old for his people, but he's still damn spry. Guess i'll head in. The gator-like form of Thress swimming back to shore cuts a clean line, nearly free of ripples or causing a wake.

Her head pops out of the water while her body stays submerged at a 1 fathom depth. She spies the Keeper's aerobatics and guesses who the target is, from the K'zin running towards the crowd. Best to sidle off from him a bit and give myself some running space. She changes her trajectory slightly, and coils up her legs for a run as she emerges.

Naiya looks up at Vethara curiously, showing a slight tightness around her eyes for a moment, though it passes quickly enough as she reaches out slowly to Fluff with a small hand, letting him get her scent first before trying to pet him.

“Marcus, come here,” she says, gesturing with her other hand though her eyes remain fixed on the large wolf.

Giving Ivan another conspiratorial wink, Marcus comes trotting over, offering Vethara one of his crooked smiles that is altogether too much like his father, before offering a little bow and then his hand in greeting. “Pleased to meet you, Signora …” he pauses, looking to his sister for assistance.

“Vethara,” she replies softly, “though we should probably not use her name without permission.” She glances up at Vethara again, tilting her head slightly, then looks back to Fluff, seeing if he’ll allow her to gently scritch behind his ears. “She’s … good,” she continues, half to herself, though the word seems to carry more than a casual observational air. “Sometimes sad, but good.”

Marcus shrugs it off as another of his sister’s odd moments that he’s long become used to, beaming up at the Archduchess happily enough. “And my name is Marcus. Is it really ok to pet him? I think he’s even bigger than Kostya!”

=*=*=*=*=

Nathi glances to make sure the children are still behaving, trying to balance out both conversations, and nods and smiles to Tsunami and Kiara. “What’s the good of having a house suitable for entertaining if no one comes to be entertained? It would be a pleasure to have you both, and any others you chose to invite. Just give us a heads up so we can play proper hosts,” she replies with a smile.

“And so long as all is well here, and the children are not making a nuisance of themselves, I should probably get back to the game, at least for another run. I’ll be watching – just give a wave if I’m needed before – and thank you all, again. It was indeed a pleasure meeting you Kiara, Tsunami,” and turning to Vethara as well, “Your Grace Vethara. I hope we’ll meet up again later. Ciao!”

Having spotted the possible tag-shift in progress, she decides to up the ante somewhat with a potential distraction for her original target, feeling that perhaps he hasn’t been properly teased enough yet. Jogging off towards the ongoing game, she whistles sharply and calls out.

“Hey G’reer! Here kitty kitty kitty!” And promptly heads off at an angle to where he’s heading, hoping to put some distance in between should he turn out to be the next ‘it’.

Fluff scented the little girl's hand, quickly catching the traces of smell left by a colleague of his, which strikes a positive note as the human cub is, thus, not a complete stranger to his own kin. And so he lay down on the ground by the girl, careful not to knock her over in the process, and gave a “What do we do now?” kind of look at Vethara.

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” the aforementioned woman said with a smile, shaking the boy’s hand. “You can just call me Vethara, as your sister said.”

Naiya’s whispered remarks do catch her attention, even if she shows nothing of it. But in her mind, it was clear that the girl had more to herself that what one could see at first sight. But her present thoughts were interrupted by Nathicana’s farewells, which Vethara answered in kind.

And then she blinked as she saw the Empress run off in a game of tag. The sight was quite… intriguing to say the least to someone who grew up in much discipline. But then again, she did quite a few… intriguing... things herself in the past, so to each his own.

“Well, you guys sure have one joyful mother,” the Archduchess said, following Nathicana with her eyes for a second before looking at the little siblings.

Both children settle in happily next to the large wolf, gently stroking and petting in a relaxed, familiar way. Naiya spoke soothingly in her native tongue, softly telling Fluff what a beautiful wolf he was, complimenting, reassuring. At Vethara’s comment, she shrugs and smiles, continuing her petting.

“Sometimes,” she says, glancing in the direction her mother ran off in. “Sometimes she gets really sad. And sometimes really mad.”

“Usually at papa,” Marcus pipes up, leaning over to impulsively give his sister a little hug before going back to petting Fluff.

Naiya shrugs again after returning the hug, and smiles. “I like seeing her happy. She likes seeing her friends. We do too – they’re fun.”

“Mmmhmm,” Marcus agrees, nodding his head. “Like Aunty Shorty and ZioTimo - they're over there." Here he waves vaguely over at another part of the beach. "Did you know he’s a hero? Mama always tells us stories. And Aunty Shodey – she has the coolest toys …”

“Mama says we’re lucky to know so many nice people, and to get to go visit all the neat places we do,” Naiya says, interrupting her brother with a knowing sort of grin. “She says we need to remember that too, for when we have ‘sponsibilities.”

“It is unfortunate that she didn’t accompany you then.” Kairis said. “I think that I would like to see some of her jewelry. My husband is a warrior although he hasn’t seen much active duty since the Civil War. That’s actually how I met him. He was an officer serving under my father.”

She laughed slightly at Kraah’s question. “They certainly seem to be. I can’t remember ever being quite so young and…” She colored slightly and let the sentence drop. “In any event, this sort of…pairing ritual…rarely leads to anything of much permanency among humans. It is more customary for a couple to get to know each other at some length first and then to engage in more formal activities like courtship and marriage only after a bond of companionship has been formed. At least, that is the norm in the Confederated Peoples. There’s really no one ritualized form of courtship for all human beings. The process varies enormously between different cultures, different faiths, even different couples.”

Kairis stretched her legs, unbending her knees and extended them to their full length without getting up out of her seat and then lowering them again as she resumed a more normal, seated posture. “It is a bit more than I expected. If I had known they would be this raucous, I’m not sure I would have brought the boys. Fortunately, their father seems to be keeping them away from the worst of it. If only…” She took a moment to look around, locating Petros and frowning heavily.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I think that my oldest is a bit out of sorts.” she said as she stood up and walked over towards Petros, who was sort of lurking around the edges of the party after being sent on his way by Maxwell. He seemed ill at ease and seeing his mother walking towards him did little to make him feel better. He knew, of course, that this was mostly a party for his parents’ generation and that he would have more fun if he just relaxed and played on the beach. But he couldn’t help wanting, as most boys his age wanted, to come across as more grown-up and independent than he was and to be seen by some of the very beautiful women here as a man about the party rather than a boy accompanying his mother and father. That was why he had left his father in the first place.

Kairis knew all this, of course. She also knew that he was probably going to end up skulking about the edge of things and feeling miserable and awkward if left on his own. She smiled warmly at him as she arrived and slipped quite naturally into Greek. “That was a rather lovely young woman I just saw you with, Petros. What’s her name?.”

Petros frowned. “Penelope but…I wasn’t…Don’t worry about it, Mama. We were just talking. She’s from Xirnium, actually. I don’t know exactly what she’s here for though. She’s a noblewoman but she doesn’t seem to be a diplomat, per se.”

Kairis nodded. “The invitation said that the event was informal but I wasn’t really expecting this. It is very much like the sort of beach parties they might have in Hesperia or Dorado. I just wish there were more young people for you to meet.”

“Are we still going to Hesperia in July, Mama?” Petros said.

“We are.” Kairis said. “I have a few speeches to make and I’m going to be meeting with Governor Salvenmoser about a few things. But you’ll also get to go to the beach and they’ll be more people your own age there. And we are all going on a tour of the Zoo of Hesperia with the governor himself. I think you’ll like it.”

The fact of having his own little fan club was quite pleasant to Pushozverek, who lay down comfortably and enjoyed the expression of adoration. It reminded him of how Tania would stroke him or use him as a giant pillow-bed. But now Tania was gone forever and the wolf missed the attention only human cubs could provide.

Vethara watched the scene with a smile, deciding that the swim could be allowed a wait, and settled down by the children and the two Reploids.

“No, I did not know he was a hero,” she answered the question. “In fact, I have to say I do not know him at all. Did hear his name here and there, though. What I can say, however, is that I have definitely heard of Queen SHODAN.” She paused. “It is good to have friends and ties, as many as possible. Makes it fun to spend time.”

The comment about “ ‘sponsibilities” made her smile. “Oh well, you can enjoy time for some time before you get responsibilities. You should make the most of it.”

With that, she gave a look at the two Reploids. “I hope you do not mind me and Fluff here stealing all the attention?”

"Wh-oh, no, not at all." Kiara grins sheepishly. "It's a nice change of pace, really."

"Mmhmm." Tsunami hops to her usual perch on her organic buddy's shoulder and thwaps Kiara lighting on the arm with her metal tail. "Usually Kiara walks into a room and gets all the attention what with the wings, tail, being straight out of myth thing. I don't suppose you heard about the archaeological expedition in the Valley of Dragons awhile back? Kiara and I were leading that and Kiara kinda got pulled smack into the middle of it by unlucky chance."

Kiara seems to be more interested in Fluff at the moment, having not seen a canine quite so large before. "He's gorgeous. I didn't know wolves could get so large."

"Eh, Kiara." Tsunami peers at the wolf and then to Vethara. "I would imagine he's not your typical northern tundra grey wolf. I assume he's a different breed of some sort. By the way, I'm Tsunami Drakos, and this is my coworker Kiara Alson, both from the Arpean Thaumatology Institute. Pleasure to make your acquiantence."

Kraah at that moment seemed to pay more attention to the goings-on of the guests in his field of view than he had before. As Kairis made her excuse-me and went after her child, he looked up. "Hmmmm? Of course, of course. If you have trouble keeping track of your family, I could have one of the local constabulary send a tracking newt out. It may seem peaceful enough here, but it can become treacherous quickly for the unwary wanderer."

He watched a bit as the President of the Resurgent Dream intercepted her child. A breeze from a shifting form near him turned his attention away from the mother/son pair and one eye landed on Sshrakka, who had a good-sized watermelon in her hand. "Is your serrah going to make an appearance, Sub-Commander?"

Sshrakka seemed to snap out of some internal musing at that point. "Eh? Oh, good cycle, Advisor. You mean the First Admiral? I doubt it. I haven't received a comm from her about it. Protecting us from the great secret of space and all that. But knowing her, she'll hot-drop in bellowing about me getting mated and all that noise. And as usual, scaring off any prospects I might have had."

Kraah laughed loud at that. "Hah! I can completely see that happening. Probably in an Overlord landmate as well, just for the impact of it. I see your friend made it here, though."

Sshrakka leveled one eye on the direction Tim was going. "Yes, and just as nervous and full of self-imposed responsibility as ever. I would try and get him completely loaded to ease his mental burden for a time, but that'd make it worse, most likely. What to do with that boy. Can't pick out his mate, either. Hmmmm.....maybe...." Her free scanning eye landed on the trio of two humans and a slightly shorter than normal K'zin. They seemed quite engaged in some manner of conversation.

THe K'zin fits the profile I received, but seems to be busy at the moment. I'll wait on that. Her other eye remained fixed on Tim, just to make sure he doesn't get lost in a flashback or something and collapse on the beach from sun-stroke.

Luceh spends several seconds after breaking her dive and momentum regaining some altitude to better survey the available targets. The k'zin she tried and failed to snag just prior is clearly heading in the direction of some of the other participants, and it follows that the best odds of tagging someone entails chasing after to increase the density of available targets.

A couple more wingbeats and Luceh makes another dive; this time a long, shallow one with G'reer and the other people he's loping toward at the projected end of it.

There is, in lore tangentially associated to reality, something known as Wu's Law. It states, in as many words, "Never say 'here, kitty, kitty' to a kzin." Now, of course, this refers to more modern kzin like the ones one used to find in El Sentiel, the dedicated meat-eating subsentient-female scream-and-leapers rather than the more archaic (or perhaps ultramodern, depending on who one wants to ask) Wunderkzin of the Segments. Still, even 'Pendran kzinti twitch at grins, unless they're particularly well-trained and practiced not to (like Shorty), and while Wu's Law has never been put into writing in the Segments, it's still generally understood as perhaps not the brightest thing to say. G'reer-Captain is not only not a diplomat but also a bit more conservative in his mindset. Part of the reason he's so straight-laced is that, like his ancestors, he basically has what would be considered a very bad anger management problem were he human.

So, for an instant, he sees red, and nigh-instantly changes heading onto a collision course for Nathi at top speed. Still, he is a 'Pendran kzin and he does have enough time to think things over and realize no insult was intended to his Heroicness... and that he needs to dodge that incoming Keeper he sees over his shoulder. He leaps to the left as hard as he can, which really means he just runs into Luceh's hand before tumbling and kicking up a lot of sand, promptly coating himself in a decently thick layer of the grit thanks to being wet and furry.

Blinking momentarily in an unintentional imitation of a somewhat more sprawled Sphinx, he realizes how foolish he must look and then rolls back onto his paws, shaking himself out idly and stretching as if it was all completely intentional to begin with. Once he sufficiently salves his ego, he bolts again for Nathi. After all, she is the one doing the taunting.

* - * - *

Bondayehr's not prone to flashbacks, at least, not that he'd ever admit. Shorty would say otherwise, but she's busy at the moment. Right now he's nowhere near having one, and isn't even angsting or moping that badly. Just walking alongside the beach, incidentally towards the tag game. He appreciates the recent ground kill by airpower (especially against that particular squid), and finds himself laughing at the silly ratcat.

Speaker and H'zta, from their respective locations, laugh as well at their rather... well... overenthusiastic fellow 'tosh. They actually are the eldest generation, and so they understand quite well from experience what's going on. Still, that young'n is trying far, far too hard.... but in what amounts to a meritocratic racial religion, what's one going to do? H'zta chuckles a bit more softly with a whiffing of breath, but her perked-up ears and the look in her eyes suggests her gentler reaction has less to do with being diplomatic and more with being distracted. "I've heard a little about him from my consort," she says. "Apparently he's some special project of the Foot-to-Ass Section Advisor, and Advisor Hawke has something of a problem with forgetting that there's a person behind the progress reports. There isn't anything too wrong with him, I hope?"

“And it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ladies,” Vethara answered with a smile. “The short form of my name is Vethara Shakhovskaya. The longer form includes a patronymic and a style and title. Neither of which I find useful right now.”

She gave a glance at the happy Fluff before looking at Tsunami. “He is a Cardinian Black, a sub-species of the Taraskovyan black wolf. They are a bit large, yes, despite Taraskovya’s Nordic climate and mountainous terrain. Many explain it by the fact that a long time ago the old Taraskath and the wolves forged a symbiotic relationship. Not domestication, mind you. It was just that humans helped wolves, wolves helped humans, a relationship which continued on to this day.”

She reached out and ruffled Fluff’s head a little. “They make excellent friends. But extremely horrible pets. Never managed to make him fetch a Frisbee for me. Well, he did once as a pup. He picked it up, chewed it into a fine example of art moderne and spit it out in front of my feet, clearly indicating his opinion of the game.” She laughed a little before continuing. “They are all like that. Proud, mighty, loyal. And they like children, I guess reminds them of their own little cubs. ”

She then looked back at the Reploids. “Hm. I do have to admit I have no heard of the Valley of Dragons expedition. Mind enlightening me as to the details?”

“Mama says we need to be kids while we’re kids, too,” Naiya says, nodding sagely as she and her brother continue to gently play with the big wolf, smiling and chatting quietly about Fluff, and comparisons to Kostya, their own large playmate.

“Kostya doesn’t fetch, but he likes to run around, and sort of play tag,” Marcus observes, Naiya nodding in agreement.

“Mama says he’s a good protector. He helps keep us safe at home, and when he goes on trips with us.”

“And he’s real snuggly," Marcus picks up again. "You’re really nice, Miss Vethara. Like Miss Kiara, and Tsunami. Mama said there were lots of nice people here. See Ivan there? He’s fun too. Did you see the magic Miss Kiara can do? The crystal Ivan has – it makes that little dragon, and you can make it fly aaaaaaall over. That's how we did it. She made it.”

They both perk up a bit at the mention of an expedition, quieting a bit expectantly, sensing a story of adventure and magic might be forthcoming.

=*=*=*=*=

Nathi starts to call out to Bondayehr to tease him into joining, getting so far as “Hey, Tim—“ before seeing the game shift gears rather rapidly – almost frighteningly so.

She’d expected a reaction, but hadn’t expected it to be both so sudden, and so intense. All in all, an exhilaratingly pleasant surprise that gets the adrenaline pumping. She goes wide-eyed and shrieks, cutting quickly to one side, this time away from the water, giggling more than she has a right to with a quarter-ton ‘tosh after her.

As far as she’s concerned, people can think what they want. She’s here to have fun, and for at least a while, not worry about appearances, or diplomacy, or cutting deals, or any of the rest. The kids are happy and for now, out of trouble. The sun is out, the beach is absolutely beautiful, and the company is fantastic. Decorum be damned. Besides, there’d be time enough for talk later over drinks and some of that food that was still making her mouth water.

Tim quiets down and perks up at the sound of his name, but as it isn't followed by 'help, I'm being kidnapped by the Luftwaffe!' he decides it's safely ignored. Besides, Nathi's got more important things to worry about, like that orange-and-black cruise missile heading towards her heedless of any other considerations. Ah well. She asked for it. She said 'here, kitty kitty' to a kzin. Not just any kzin, but a particularly hyperprofessional one at that.

He's just following orders, after all.

G’reer is closing, and closing fast. Having a serious streak of mischief going on, Nathi makes a split second decision to up the ante slightly. Her lack of concern for decorum has already been established, and given her status, and the present company, it’s likely she can get away with quite a bit, within reason. Her opponent however, seems to have some hang-ups in that regard – status and titles and other such fluff.

Forgiveness, should any be required, will humbly be requested later. There’s no time to ask for permission. With a series of quick ‘excuse me’, ‘pardon’, ‘sorry’, ‘whoops’ and even a ‘heads up’, she zig-zags her way through the various people on the sidelines, so to speak. A dodge around a group here, a leap over a seated guest there, trying rather hard not to kick up a lot of sand in passing, she winds her way as quickly as she can (which isn’t nearly so quick as she could in the open, granted) through the assorted attendees.

If she was going down, and it was certain she was sooner rather than later, it might as well be memorable, and hopefully, fun.

It's true. G'reer does have more hang-ups that way. He's also covered and kicks up more sand than Nathi, and the inviolable rule of any beach party is to not get sand into the comestibles. Because of this, he decides to go the long way, which brings him past Bondayehr. He gets an idea.

Now, Bondayehr isn't particularly suicidal, but he knows he's not who G'reer's aiming for and the ratcat's relative bearing angle is changing as he approaches. No big deal, he's just going to blast past at speed, so Bondayehr continues walking along his own little path. His first clue that something is up is when the 'tosh screams "Ksnut'k zhu Kzinprughnp!*" quite a ways away from his target. The next clue is feeling G'reer's paw brush up against his leg while the rest of the Hero passes a good ten centimeters away from him.

Sighing to himself with a smirk, he grumbles back "Kive uhroz'iz' zhu Kzinprughnp**" and idly changes course to head back more-or-less towards the food tent.

Meanwhile, having gone the long way, G'reer is still a bit behind Nathi, but more to the side and continuing to change his angle of attack--mostly trying to get her away from the food tent before closing in, and in the general direction of his fellow lieutenant colonel.

* "For the Patriarchy"
** "Service to the Patriarchy"
*** Absolutely nothing to do with Cirbizoid.

To hide her supremely pleased grin Élisabeth took a sip from her glass, tilting her head slightly and peering at Lord Nefarious out of the corner of her eye. His roving gaze caused her heart to race once again, and a sweetly pleasing blush coloured her pale cheek.

Shorty’s joke seemed rather lost on the baroness, who blinked her pretty curved lashes blankly. Lord Nefarious laughed at it though, and so Élisabeth forced a polite smile. All the same, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat insulted by the Scolopedran’s inquiry. Shorty hadn’t asked what Élisabeth recommended that she see, she had asked her what there was to see. How could someone not know anything at all about Xirnium?

Damian’s response soon caused her to forget her annoyance, and Élisabeth returned his smile with equal warmth, and more suggestion.

‘Oh I am happy to have given you that pleasure,’ the baroness replied. ‘I can only hope that as the first I have not made too poor an impression,’ she added with the hint of an amused pout. Élisabeth toyed absentmindedly with her necklace as she nibbled at her lip.

Reluctantly turning from Lord Nefarious, the noblewoman brushed a few strands of hair from her face and tried to remember what they had been discussing.

‘You’ll appreciate, madam, that it’s not an easy thing for a local inhabitant to convey the appeal of her motherland,’ the baroness explained. ‘My perspective on the matter is probably not the fairest.’

The baroness considered thoughtfully for a moment before continuing.

‘Of course, what one wishes to see depends on what one is looking for,’ Élisabeth explained. ‘I should think that most tourists who come to the Eternal Republic seek out her cultural metropolises or her natural landscapes. If the former, they do so either to experience modern Xirniumite city life or to distil some essence of the Eternal Republic’s long history. If the latter, the tourist doubtless seeks the mountain ranges, forests and glaciers of Xirnium.’

‘It has been said that ours is a nation of theatres and museums,’ mused the baroness, ‘but since I’ve seen relatively little of the world beyond its shores I’m not really one to judge. Perhaps if one day you ever visit you could tell me.’

A slender gloved hand brushed over her forehead, Élisabeth’s golden hair simply refused to keep in place. With a murmured apology she handed Damian her glass and pulled at a few pins, holding one between her teeth in order to free both hands. This time the baroness did not merely adjust her hair but shook it free, running a hand through its flowing, exotically scented tresses before gathering it together and bunching it up. Pinning her hair high with practiced skill, the baroness provided Lord Nefarious with a splendid view of the nape of her lovely neck.

‘Thank you,’ Élisabeth whispered to him gratefully as she replaced the final hairpin and took back her drink.

"The honor is indeed mine, sir," Shorty says with a polite smile and flit of her batwing ears. The Xirniumite noblewoman's quiet hints were only increasing in regularity, and the young kzinrret figures it's about time for her to make a polite exit from the scene before her presence really does become oppressive to the two. Of course, this also has to be done without drawing attention to anyone's ulterior motives, as it'd be improper (to say the least) to accuse either of her companions of flirting, or even to suggest any minuscule fraction of such a thing. "I understand the difficulty, ma'am, having often been there myself over the course of my duties in the Dominion. Given the breadth of the Segments and the multitude of biomes and cultures it encompasses, apparently people visit for nearly anything natural, so my tourism liaisons tell me. We also have a good deal of theatre in various forms, but I don't believe that's quite so common an attraction as our culture and environs in general."

Now, how to disengage? She doesn't let the nearing proximity of the game of tag distract her, especially not now. She took the initiative, and attention's upon her. Can't waste it, no matter how close the pads of feet in sand or girlish squealing seem to get...

She has no idea what in hell it is the ‘tosh screams out, having repeatedly pondered learning the language – all the better to cuss at Devon with – but never quite managing to follow through. But whatever it is, it sounds intimidating, and it spurs her on in her efforts to make her getaway.

Having missed any exchange while looking forward, all she sees when she finally looks behind is a bundle of orange and black sand-covered fur barreling at her full-clip from an angle rather than through the crowd. The outcome is inevitable, she knows, and at that speed, it’s gonna be a helluva collision …

Much like the one that results as Nathi hurtles with a shocked yelp straight into an unsuspecting and rather solid Shorty, her head whipping around all too late to avoid, even with enhanced reflexes.

There is a saying around the office where Shorty works; "ma tarde non fur mai grazie divine."

Apparently the Dominioners had their own Petrarch.

Never mind that the office pulled it from a letter of Machiavelli's, mostly an inside joke concerning how pro-republican his Discorsi were. She finds it oddly appropriate even as she thinks Oh no, not me, not now as she tilts backwards from the blow. Nathi is a good fifty or so centimeters shorter than the 'ret, so the impact is pretty low. All of Shorty's catlike (pun intended) reflexes instinctively work against the tendency to smack the people she's talking to with flailing limbs, and a good deal of this is thanks to International Relations Section training. IntRelate is oddly militaristic in more ways than one; basic training includes making the spill reflex (when someone holding a glass of water is jostled) turn inward so as to only spill things on oneself. It's generally just safer that way.

Not that she's thinking about any of this. No, she's hit by willing surprise as her back rolls over Nathi's, feet losing contact with the ground and legs curling up close to the body from years of gymnastics both formal and informal. She manages a full rotation before hitting the ground, technically on her feet (and hands), but excess angular momentum pivots her on her heels and plops her firmly on her keister in the sand. Meanwhile, the Dread Lady, having just performed (albeit on accident) a perfect linebacker drive, has enough momentum and augments to stay on her feet and maintain a good clip whilst fleeing the scene.

She can't help but chuckle a bit with a whiff of breath through her nostrils (and a human-identifiable vocalization as socialization in the Segments demands) as she recollects her senses, shaking out her head. "My, the games have certainly gotten rowdy." She slides up from the ground, practically pouring against gravity with a gymnast's shift of her shoulders and rolling back onto her feet. The 'ret starts to brush herself off and only then realizes that, yes, the cup in her hand is empty and the grape juice it up until extremely recently contained has completely soaked her down the front in a grape stain.

No, there never was a divine gift that was late. "I am most sorry, Your Royal Highness, Your Excellency," she says with apologetic little bows to the Gehennian and the Xirniumite, "but it seems I've been clumsy and I should wash this out before it stains. I do hope you understand... and my offer of the Delancourt still stands, should either of you be interested later." While this would normally be delivered at a very rapid pace, she doesn't allow herself to sound overly excited, keeping her speech as calm and controlled as it was before the hit-and-run. "I do feel rather bad about cutting the conversation short like this. Should either of you wish to contact me..."

Yes, Scolopendran Federal Services standard-issue bikinis have pockets. They're not supposed to be a fashion statement.

Yes, Shorty is enough of a professional diplomat to have business cards on her at all times. In a thin steel case, no less, to ensure that they're never crumpled or have a molecule out of place.

She proffers said cards with a very Japanese (and quite deep, given her stature) bow, corners held between the thumb and forefinger of both hands. Nefarious first, then Élisabeth. She sticks around long enough to accept the inevitable polite closings before making her own "Good afternoon" and leaving the area with alacrity, but somehow with enough self-control to prevent it seeming like haste. Seems like that inherent feline regalness actually does have its advantages now and then.

With the new trajectories of the participants in the tag game seemingly decided, Kraah found more than just a few grains of sand in his oversized coconut shell/umbrella/ fizzy tropical drink. His fist waves in the air at Nathi's retreating frame. "Carnsarn ya dang-blasted kids and yer fun-having!" He sits back down with a resigned 'hrumph' and inspects his drink, then shifts his gaze over to the tented area where scores of professional chefs and servitors are readying the BIG GRILLS for something. Kraah looks up at the sun, checking its position, then looks over at his wrist-symbiote, checking the time. "Yep, it's just about time in a few seconds."

From the slate-shelfs where hundreds of the reptilian sun-worshipers were laying prostrate in a number of ways, several dozen males got up on their knees and started bellowing long and loud. Loud enough to rouse several flights of birds from their tree-roosts in the rainforest behind the beach-line. At that, nearly every female on the basking area jumped up and joined in with their own bellowing, dewlaps inflating fully showing the full spectrum of color on their throats.

The dewlap-bearing females then started sprinting from the slate shelf onto the sand towards the water. If the tag game was thought to kick up some sand, then this would be akin to a sandstorm as pumping legs strew sand about like mad. After the first charge from the female Sakkrans reached the water. the male contingent charged up after them, kicking up yet more sand. Wild cries, bellowing and more than a few throaty hoots filled the air as the females could be seen swimming speedily in the salt-water like crocodiles in the Nile.

“OhmigodShortyI’msosorry…” Nathi blurts out over her shoulder, her expression quite sincere, though it tightens back into momentary panic at first hearing, then seeing the wave of lizardy enthusiasm bound onto the beach. She lets out a little shriek as she tries to bob and weave and dodge the rather large and imposing reptilians pounding their way into the surf, trying to keep the sand out of her eyes as they kick it up left and right, slowing her down quite a bit.

The kids of course go all sorts of wide-eyed at the display, pausing in their petting to watch the spectacle with rather awed expressions.

“There’s so many of them,” Naiya murmurs quietly, subconsciously nestling in against the big wolf just a bit more. Not really hiding behind his warm furry bulk … sort of.

“And they’re huge,” Marcus says with a nod, putting an arm around his sister’s small shoulders and scrunching down a bit as well. “And fast.”