NationStates Jolt Archive

vK turns at the surprise hug, and then returns it. "I am doing pretty damn outstanding, Your Omnipotent, High Ruler, Most Worshipful, Imperatrice, Absolute Leader Person. And yourself?" He waits for the proceedings with Sakkra to conclude. "So, Miss Lord of All She Sees, care for a spot-o-me rum?"

"Then I'd say what we need are some new stories, or the good times to make some better ones," the woman says lightly, more than happy to let that particular chapter slide. Even now, there were ghosts she'd yet to lay to rest concerning it. "The camp and the hunting most definitely would help along those lines."

As vK speaks, she closes her eyes, and makes a slow count of ten, then turns to the big man, glaring icily ...

Only to swipe his jug and toss back an unhealthy amount of rum. And breathing out sharply soon after, her eyes tearing up, face turning a bit red.

"Jesus Christ, man," she croaks, coughing a bit, and grinning in spite of it all. "That is what you boys have been drinking?!?"

"*ahem*" Shaar hoists up her mug, refilled with some of the devil rum since. "I know i've been called.....'butchy'...in my day, but really now...." She lifts the mug to her mouth and takes a hearty swallow. "Certainly clears out the sinuses, i'll give it that."

Dominion Control showed no 'invite' perse concerning President Tuomas, however there was a detailed security note on file explaining the current situation, and what measures to take ... which they did.

"Understood. Coordinates for landing to follow. Be advised, a security team will be on hand to escort you. Stand by for landing instructions."

Directions given and protocols followed, the plane is allowed to land in the secure section of Devras International, and as promised, a sizeable team of armed soldati is on hand to meet the President.

When he does finally land and exit, he is met by a rather tall Dominion-looking man, calmly smoking a cigarette, and doing a great impression of a looming brick wall.

"Sergeant Tomei, Dominion security," Angelico says - a statement that at the moment at least is partially true, seeing as the Black Company has been hired to assist with the event. "Welcome to Devras, President Tuomas. If you'll come with me, we have a suite waiting for you."

Tuomas replied, "Right, I'll come with you. But if I am harmed in any way, let's just say there's an F-15 about 200 kilometres away from here.
I am only here for my reporters. This is not a statement, implied or otherwise, that I like your regime. I just want to see the Dread Lady, and I don't want to wait".

He walked into the suite and pulled out a hip flask. He started drinking it.
"Want some?" he asked. "I always get slightly drunk before dealing with psychotic dictators. Nathicana may look good, but so did Martina Tragora and she was a serial killer".

Angelico looks at the man incredulously, as do the rest of the soldati, stopping in their tracks as they approach the waiting limousine.

"Did I just hear you correctly, Sir? Could you have possibly stood here, on Dominion soil, and made an open threat, after we have accorded you every courtesy, even when directly lied to? And did you then proceed to presume that you, a guest by our our good grace alone, could order about our leader and newly-crowned Empress as if she were a common serving girl? Could you then have possibly had the lack of judgement and poor taste to further insult our nation, and the Lady herself in a decidedly crass manner?"

He pauses, tapping up the small over-the-ear communicator and speaking quickly and quietly in the native tongue. At a brief hand signal from the man, the entire squad level their weapons at President Tuomas, one and all looking on with varying levels of ... eagerness in their eyes.

"I believe, good sir, that you have outstayed your welcome before you have even had the chance to enjoy our hospitality. A pity. You may have come for your pitiful reporters, but you will now return empty-handed, and will await the Lady's leisure on this matter - by her word. You may very well have your vaunted F-15, as much good as it would do you."

"Know this - should any hint of an attack or unauthorized entry into our airspace happen while you remain within it, you will be either gunned down where you stand, or shot from the sky. You have til the count of now to get back on your plane, and leave Dominion airspace by the quickest possible route. Should you fail to do so, you will again be either gunned down where you stand, or shot from the sky. No further intrusion by any vessle of any sort of Serconean origin is to be allowed within Dominion airspace, or on Dominion soil. Any such intrusion will be considered grounds for action."

"Your citizens, having broken our laws, will remain incarcerated until such time as you provide the government, in Dominion sovereigns, compensation for having had to deal with this entire incident, including the cost of shipping them to the nearest neutral location for you to pick them up. Should you choose not to retrieve them, they will be prosecuted under Dominion law as any other citizen would be. I suggest that you accept the Lady's generous offer. Good day, Mister Tuomas."

Angelico then raised his own weapon, and with the tip, directed Tuomas towards his plane, waiting ... impatiently.

"I'm not threatening to attack you, unless you attack me. Prime Minister Hunter may not entirely like me, but if I was killed, he would be very annoyed indeed, as will my entire country. I am making a statement of what will happen should you perform an act of war by attacking me. You're the ones making threats.

I'm not insulting your nation, I'm insulting your leadership. I'll see her in the morning, if you so wish. My Foreign Minister has said similar things about her in my own country.

If you shoot me, a war will start right here, right now. Oh, Palace Guard..."

The Serconean Palace Guard climbed out of the plane, M-4s at the ready.

"Serconeans don't start wars, but we sure as eggs is eggs fight to defend ourselves from attack. Now, just put your guns down and we'll discuss this quietly".

Oh dear, Tuomas thought. This is not what he had expected.

"Never once did we threaten you until you yourself made threats, you arrogant son of a bitch," Angelico says in a deceptively calm voice. "This is not Serconea, this is the Dominion. You have no rights here. And what little respect you were afforded, you chose to throw away. My orders, and that message came from the Lady herself, our leadership. Your continued presence when you have been told to leave is the problem here. Our patience is at an end. And your time is up."

Another brief hand gesture, and rifles were set from stun, to their full deadly force.

"One ..."

President Tuomas realised he'd gone too far.

"Right", he said, "I have no desire to die just now. I will leave immediately. But I'm not apologising for my statements about your regime, or your leader. I can't apologise for the truth. I've heard accounts from your prisons, and they did not make for nice reading.
My comments may or may not have been diplomatic, but threatening to kill me was certainly not.
I wouldn't have made that initial statement if your regime was nicer or democratic. It's a tacit rule that if you attack a nation's head of state, that is an act of war.

I still wish to talk to the Dread Lady, but I will do so now by phone, in my aircraft outside this country's airspace".

With that, President Tuomas walked back to the plane, which taxied out and took off.

Tuomas replied, "Right, I'll come with you. But if I am harmed in any way, let's just say there's an F-15 about 200 kilometres away from here."
Earth Orbit

"Well, I hope everybody's having fun at yet another stupid VIP party we have to play guardian angel for," Sky Marshal Rico muses half-aloud as he leans back in his chair, stretching slightly. The command room of the supercarrier Olympus Mons is quiet but not silent, humming with the soft murmurs of shared discourse and clicks of switches that make up its day-to-day operation.

This is the kind of steady hum designed to be broken, so it is with a slight cough from one sensors technician in the enlisted gallery. "Sir, we're picking up a heatsig about two hundred kilometers from Devras airspace."

Rico arches a brow. "International territory. What's the stats?"

"Getting higher resolution telescope feeds now... ah, got it. Putting it up on display screen three." One of the flatscreen displays surrounding the spherical strategic situation indicator board that dominates the front of the command room switches from a line-drawing of the President-General-class supercarrier with superimposed status markings to a picture of a twin-turbofan aircraft (http://brd3.chosun.com/bemil/files/BEMIL001/upload/F-15E-03_2.jpg) with kinked trailing edges to its wings, large vertical stabilizers, and slots in the leading edge of its horizontal stabilizers.

This makes the Sky Marshal's brow go higher. "Looks like one of the Dominion fighters we replaced. That'd be a jet, wouldn't it? Uhm... historic aircraft never was my specialty."

"We've got a read on it as a McDonnell Douglas Fighter-Fifteen, looks to be Echo air-to-ground modification. It's loitering at its current position, which it appears to have taken immediately after that plane from... uh... that other nation landed... what was it... Serconea. Yeah."

"Hum. So we've got a fighter-bomber loitering around because of the Serconeans, possibly? Estimated time to weapons range if it decides to be mean?"

"At known performance characteristics, four and a half minutes."

Sky Marshal Rico nods. "FlightCom, tell the Excaliburs we've got on CAP to keep an eye out. If it closes range by fifty kilometers, they're free to try and chase it off with verbal warning and aggressive posture. If it doesn't look like it wants to listen to tee-doubleyou ratios very much well past unity, then they're cleared to take it down."

"Acting, sir."

Welcome to the TYCS--insurance against a dangerous world.

'That was... ridiculous,' thought Alkanphel as he stared blankly at the wall. Snapping out of his reverie, he takes a quick look around the room. The sofa had been overturned, and a few lamps had found their way to the floor. The coffee table was upside down and various other furniture items were strewn about the room. It was a mess. Nothing was broken, thankfully, so it wouldn't take too long to get the room presentable again. Normally he'd probably leave it up to the housekeeping staff, but he had a reputation to keep and now some pretty heavy secrets.

'I might as well change while I'm at it,' comes his next thought as he removes a shattered wine glass from the floor. 'It's already past midnight anyway..' He grunts. Of all the ways to spend his time, this had figured the least prominently in his thinking. Of course, he had reasoned that the Elf would attend, but nothing could have prepared him for what ended up happening. In fact, he was still trying to figure out just what in the hell he was thinking. Repeated attempts to this effect left him to deduce 'Nothing at all.'

After a good half an hour or so, the Maia had his room looking pretty much as it had before, was changed, and had made himself ready to depart. his costume he put away in favor of his trademark business suit--black this time instead of the traditional white. For some reason he was liking the black a lot more lately. A peek out into the hallway assures him that the coast is clear, and he slides out his door, locking it behind him.

Seemingly from nowhere, the two Marshals appeared. Frighteningly, they were stone cold sober. "There you are," chuckled Sudani as he stepped toward the Maia. "We've been lookin' around for ya. We figured you'd be in the ballroom but no dice."

Hattori takes a quick look around. "The festivities seem to be winding down. What are we doing now?"

Alkanphel narrows his eyes at the pair, trying to discern what they know and what they don't. Reaching his conclusion a moment later, he speaks. "I'm heading down to the ballroom to look for Nathi. You're more than welcome to join me if you wish," he says slowly.

Sudani nods. "Alright then. We might veer off into the Piazza and check out that club over there," he answers, hiking his thumb over his shoulder.

Alkanphel shrugs. "No matter. I don't anticipate the company in the Ballroom to be anything to get excited about. To be honest, most of the digniatries here seem... aligned against us, at least politically. I don't expect any foul play, but still, it can't hurt to be on alert. If I call you guys, I want you to book for the airport post-haste. I can handle myself if something goes wrong."

Hattori and the Soutron offer a salute, and turn on their heels to follow the Maia as he stalks past, grimacing as his face passes from the Marshals' view. Hattori and Sudani exchange a glance and a few whispers in the Haradrim tounge.

As expected, the Marshals find themselves attracted to the club as Alkanphel proceeds alone to the ballroom, slipping into the structure hopefully unnoticed after a time. He scans the crowd, visibly shuddering once he discerns Nathi's company. Nonetheless, he weaves his way towards them.

Nathicana gets the heads up on Alkanphel’s approach before she sees him, thanks to the tiny earpiece relaying security’s notes to her over Spook. Her eyes go slightly wide, and she unnecessarily smoothes her dress in a telltale nervous manner.

“Incoming, gentlemen,” she says, turning to meet the Maia with a smile, holding out one hand in a graceful, expectant manner.

“My lord Alkanphel,” she says, looking up at him with a curious expression as she notes the dark clothing, reminded sharply of that day some time ago when everything seemed to go to hell. "I hope you have been enjoying your evening?"

Alkanphel eyes Nathi's companions with guarded suspicion, offering them a slight nod of recognition. "It's been wonderful," he asserts, turning to Nathi. He takes her hand and kisses it, looking up to her as he does.

He pulls her a bit closer, though not uncomfortably so, given present company. "Your city is a wonderful place, Nathi. I'm quite taken with it, I must say. Apparently, my Marshals are as well, as they've decided to take in some of the..." He pauses. "Scenery, so to speak. Unfortunately, however, I don't think I ever found you," he laments, beginning to grin a bit.

"Always good to hear our 'sights' are appreciated, boy," she says with a knowing smile, albeit still a close-lipped one, making no resistance as he pulls her closer. "You'll have to introduce me later, should they make it back this way. And speaking of introductions," she continues, turning to her friends with a silent plea in her artificially-colored eyes.

"Speaker-Rrit, Supreme Emperor of Scolopendra, Pseudo-Emperor Julius Razak, also of Scolopendra, President Xeruyu vonKarma of Karmabaijan, the honorable Admiral Shaar and Major Phooush Partha of Sakkra," she says, gesturing to each in turn, "Lord Alkanphel Ancalagon, High Warlord of the Five Kingdoms. I suppose it isn't every day we have such an opportunity to mingle like this, no?"

While her demeanor is that of a pleasant, relaxed hostess, to those with sharper senses, and more discerning abilities, there is a tension, and most definitely a worry underlying it all, her hand remaining in his for now.

At the airport, a strange thing had occurred earlier in the night. When the plane from Serconea had landed, and been met with weapons, Honor had tuned in, bringing up the gain on her audio receptors, and zooming in to watch.

It had been most entertaining, to be sure. Except for the bandied threats back and forth. When the aircraft was mentioned, not at all subtly, she noted with disapproval, she had immediately identified it. Post fall, ex-American equipment had surprisingly ended up everywhere. The '15E was no exception, and absurdly easy to lock onto, despite being 300 kilometers away outside Dominion airspace.

From the rear of the forward section, two horns had snaked out of her ship body, the sinister forms curving forward slightly in a demonic appearance, extending point defense for maximum coverage.

No weapons had powered, but she had taken temporary control of one of the hundreds of PA defensive sats circling the globe waiting for instructions. It had more than enough firepower to bring any silly fighter down.

But when the plane left for Serconea again, moments later, these preparations were abandoned, though Honor resolved to tell D'ron in the morning. He would find it entertaining.

The Admiral gives the Maia a visual once-over as the other eye focuses on Nathicana. He appears no different than any other humanoid. But there is something...... Being this is the first time she had laid eyes on him, she makes with the customary greeting. "Lord Alkanphel Ancalagon, well met." A short bow is offered, but her eyes never leave him.

"I have seen your name cross my office many times, but never had the opportunity to meet you in the flesh, so to speak. Now I can put a face to the name." She extends her clawed hand forward, in that human customary greeting of welcome.

Major Phooush copies the Admiral's movements, but does not put his hand forward. As always, his mental speech can be heard in the general vicinity. "Lord Alkanphel Ancalagon, it is good we meet. I have heard much of your peoples. It will be marked as this being the first meeting between us. Let us hope it will not be the last.'

In a private tigh-beam-style 'send' to the Admiral, Phooush voices his concerns. " I am getting a flurry of sub-surface thought emissions from the Empress. Something is amiss. I suggest we keep our cards close to our chest, as the humans say." A silent blink of a nictitating membrane from the Admiral confirms the reception of his message.

"Your lord?" Razak mutters sotto voce as the Maia approaches, still well out of human hearing given the current conditions but, probably, the ubermensch can hear it. Not like the grizzled old man really cares. "You shouldn't demean yourself so."

The introductions are met with short bows from first the kzin, then the human, quite polite and very proper. Nothing is said, partially because nothing needs to be, partially because the culture is somewhat disdainful of trite formalisms and empty words, partially because lying is unacceptable and if one can't say anything nice... They tighten up slightly as Nathi is drawn closer and don't really work to mask it--everyone knows just what everyone else thinks and there's no real reason to pretend otherwise.

Speaker sniffs the air once, then relaxes a little, leaning over slightly to Razak and grumbling in the Hero's Tongue. "Vraanj hvraf' thukhu ztarw razhuu' prr'ts azra ts'oowfi vuul hwerg h'een."

Razak smirks wryly to himself as he replies in the same. "Hvizhti zhu nawuzehp-vuvu, kzoowboow vuul raikohh tsapoff?"

"Vuul bit, zhu sthondat." Speaker sniffs again, then blinks. "Yahughnost'ss kskizhrasaks pafo."

"Kskizhrasaks pafo?"

"Wazjf' the vull tusr h'ughl wtunu kskizhrasaks pafo. Thukhu ztarw hrucf'..." He pauses, then slowly taps his fingers together.

Razak's lips curl up impishly. "Icaad'rg imekhakeerg hveen tzobu the srrrrung Egraargeerg-Riwnnti?"

Speaker blinks and snortchles, covering up the snicker with a cough. "Excuse me."

"Yeah, he's catching the cold I should be getting," Razak adds.

vK makes no effort to hide his laughter, breaking out into a knee slapping chukle. In between laughs, he manages to get out, "Serro hruzoowms irgeeth?" Recovering slightly, he adds, "Kzoowboow arow ts'izhcigf vuul aasir!"

Still chuckling, vK takes a swig of rum.

"So, Alky, how goes life in Arda? Any grand tales of conquest to regal us with? Slave revolts? Spontaneous intelligence?"

Tsume wanders over, eyeing the Maia with an unreadable expression. "Tsume Dragonis, from Reploid Productions. I believe you have already met the other member of my delegation, for which I am deeply sorry." He doesn't specify why, but the warlord can probably guess.

The drake offers one of his lithe bows, though it's hard to tell if it is directed at Alkanphel or Nathicana. "It has been a lively evening, and despite Skyraider's attendance, I have enjoyed myself greatly. I imagine Rihdadw will be trying to find me soon, as he has the gift we brought to celebrate the festivities."

Noting the apparent tension in the gathering, he goes on. "Hn... and why let international differences of opinion get in the way of a good party? There is alcohol in abundance, and I am told that some of the greatest moments in diplomacy occur when people get roaringly drunk... minus fountains, that is."

Alkanphel's jaw tightens at vK's remark, shooting him a glance that could paralyze a small rodent as he takes the Sakkran's hand... or.. claw, his scowl fading as he turns away from vonKarma and towards the more... civilized delegate. "Indeed," he offers simply, bowing his head at the lizard-creature. "I've likewise heard a good deal about you folks but have not until now actually met a Sakkran. I try to familiarize myself with alien races to the extent of my abilities, so I know a little about your nature and customs," he adds, holding his finger scant inches apart at the emphasis. "It pains me to think that we're 'opposed' almost by default on virtue of our various political connections..." he trails off, shooting another withering gaze at vK and Razak. "Some of which are more needlessly... belligerent then they or anyone else would have you believe," he finishes, his gaze still fixed on the pair.

After a moment, he nods vaguely towards Tsume and lowers his arm. "It's no matter, really. I've been quite content with the proceedings so far regardless," he asserts, the beginnings of a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. "To be quite honest, I didn't expect any less of the assembled company." He chuckles a bit. "I'd be a fool if I didn't know what I was getting into."

"Ah well. 'All the world's a stage,' after all, and we must all play our parts." Razak smirks wryly. "And, last time I checked, some people aren't too keen on the whole slavery issue, so I believe the divide between us goes just a wee bit farther than mere 'political difference.' There's a bit of mutual ideological exclusiveness as well... ah, but I shouldn't get in the way of your passing out of emerald spectacles, should I? How impolite of me." By the tone of his voice, it's blatantly obvious he couldn't care less. Not a man for political deceits. "The Wizard has expectations to raise and deciets to maintain. Please, go ahead."

"Why?" Razak turns a bit to Tsume with a wink. "I enjoy the integrity of my back. A place for every strand and fiber and every strand and fiber in its place. Must keep sharp for other equally sharp things, after all."

After thinking for a moment, Razak bows slightly to Nathi, then the Sakkrans, then Tsume, smirk ever so wry. "My apologies, Imperatrice, friends, and comrades for my uncouth behavior. I am but a lowly infantryman unwise in the ways of the world like my mystical magical counterpart here, and I see no need to couch what everyone knows exists behind masks. It is after midnight, after all." He proceeds to turn back towards Alkanphel, but remains notably silent.

A man in black armor approaches the group. Nodding to Razak from across the circle, he proceeded to sneak up to Nathi's side, nudging her gently in the ribs.
"A fine gift for a fine occasion milady," he said while handing her a small wooden box.

Grinning he surveyed the group, suprised at one of its members. "Well speak of the devil and he shall appear...or at least send one of his lackies."

"I appologize that wasn't entirely approriate of me."
"A...pleasure...to finally meet you Alkanphel. I am Maica'telcontar, of the Principality of berserker."

Razak’s initial comment cuts, and for a brief moment, it shows. Whether anyone else hears or not, Nathi does. The fact that it is a formal setting, and as such she is using formalities she normally wouldn’t seems rather overshadowed by the obvious mutual dislike.

As the comments go back and forth between the opposing camps, her own tension levels rise, and her usually confident façade wavers. Her shoulders slump slightly and the quiet plea in her eyes is snuffed out faster than a match in the wind. Though she doesn’t move an inch, visibly, she withdraws as the conversation continues, her expression growing strained as decorum slips further.

Maica's appearance throws her off for but a moment, and she murmurs a quiet, sincere thanks, drawing the box in close to her as he also adds to the mix.

It was too much to hope for. And there would seem, only one proper solution.

She gently extricates herself from Alkanphel’s arm, putting on a pleasant smile that never reaches her eyes. “If you would excuse me gentlemen, Admiral, there is a matter I need to attend to. Please, enjoy yourselves. If you need me for anything, just send a message via security,” she says apologetically, bowing slightly to the group without meeting their eyes, then turns and makes her way more quickly than absolutely necessary through the crowd, making her way to the stairs leading up to the boxes at the far end of the hall.

Tsume watches the scene and coughs loudly after Nathi departs, eyeing his fellow Triumvirate representatives. "Not to be a dick, but you guys could have shown a tad bit more consideration for the lady, given her rather awkward position between two drasticly differing factions. Honestly, that display was simply horrid." The drake shakes his head. "I apologize. It is hardly my place to critique, but I fear I've overindulged myself and that does loosen the tongue a bit. It is her night, let's try not to spoil it further?"

Meanwhile, Rihdadw picks his way through the thinning crowds, bejeweled wings and robes likely making the Keeper stand out as he searches for the aforementioned Dread Lady. "Dumo ev Jxo Nxe Jooj Ucc, nxoho ad kxaj kxhedw seict jxo ro?" He murmurs to himself as he scans the crowd.

"Tsume," Razak says slowly as he smirks a bit, looking back at Alkanphel. "Politeness is a show of either mutual respect--which does not exist here, I'm sure--or feigned respect, which I'm not about to attempt. I would be sly, devious, and perhaps even conniving for Nathi, but I will not lie. When someone opposes absolutely everything I believe in, I am going to show it. It was either that or excuse myself, which I'm sure would've been just as bad and impolitic and such.

"But this way," Razak drops his voice to almost a growl, "at least I get the chance to show that I am more than willing to say it to the opposition's face. Not a common opportunity, that."

Tsume sighs and shakes his head. "It is possible to be civil without being polite or respectful." The dragon comments, a slight hiss entering his tone, a sure indication that he's more than a little tipsy himself. "It may nonetheless be prudent to remember that you are representing our alliance here. Some dickishness is to be expected- just look at whenever Firefury-sama and Carlos are in the same room- but there are limits to everything."

Elsewhere, Rihdadw finally gets frustrated enough to ask one of the Dominion security folks present where the Lady is, and if he might see her for a moment.

Shaar looks at the source of the Maia's scowl, and rumbles a bit in her throat. The approximation of a chuckle. "They have seen first-hand what we get paper-work and rumors about. Their views are valid. It is not in our custom to make first meetings one of bristling and scowling." Shaar raises up, and her dewlap inflates slightly.

"Reputations are sometimes inflated; sometimes not. We would see with our own eyes what is true. But we take hospitality very seriously. In the meantime, despite rumor and reputation, grudges and such can wait while we are in the care of our most discomfitted hostess." A satisfied CHUFF escapes her nostrils at the end of her statement, issuing forth a small jet of steam.

Treznor slips into the room and glances around. For once he's not looking to make an entrance, merely to mingle gracefully. He knew how late he was, but the opportunity to lay the groundwork for more business deals was too good to pass up. He figured the hostess wouldn't mind.

Speak of the Devil, and She shall appear. He spots Nathicana making her way through the throng, her body language suggesting things are not going quite as she would have liked. He marks a path through the guests and moves to intercept, snagging a fresh glass of red wine along the way.

"Hey Red," he says, touching her elbow and offering the glass. "You look like you could use this."

Speaker nods, then puts a hand on Razak's shoulder. "Now, if your point is made, it would perhaps be best that we not start a diplomatic incident."

"Representing my alliance to someone who already hates it." The human pauses, breathes in, and lets it out slowly. "Of course. No need for me to get additional practice in making things worse than they have to be. I'm too bloody old for diplomacy. Secretary, Admiral, Major; may your evening grow more pleasant." Another series of short bows, one after the other; and they're off.

Nathi starts at the sudden touch, her mind obviously elsewhere. But at hearing his voice, and turning, seeing his face, she breaks into a relieved smile, taking the glass in one hand and promptly wrapping her other arm around him to hug comfortably tight.

“I’ve missed you,” she says simply, her voice showing a bit of strain.

Treznor returns the hug gladly, balancing his own wine glass carefully before nodding to his security detail and placing Nathicana's hand firmly in the crook of his arm. "I can tell. This is your big day, Red. You're supposed to look happy about it. Why don't you tell me about it while we get to wherever you were going?"

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< Security says Little Lord Inseminator has been behaving himself, particularly with a few willing individuals. I presume there's another reason you're so put out?
}

She snuggles in next to him, taking quite a bit of comfort in his presence, even with the ribbing. “I wasn’t really going anywhere so much as not being somewhere, if you understand,” she says, taking a long, slow sip of her wine. “Damn, that hit the spot, Dev. Grazie.”

Nathi gestures off in the direction of the little crowd, figuring a picture is worth a thousand words at least. “Water and oil, East and West, Idealists and Servants of the Devil. Pick your analogy – none of them mix. I thought perhaps … and then that I should … “

Taking another slow sip, she shakes her head, looking away. “I don’t know what I expected, or rather I do, but not why I did, and … oh gods, it has been a long day, and you know how I hate all the ... the ... bah. How have you been weathering it?”

<LOS Communcations – Devon>
{
<< Little Lord … Jesus, Dev. [chuckle analog] And I would be put out over him getting a little why? Though I have to admit, that one was a bit of a surprise. Mild understatement. I mean … whafu? I nearly choked when I heard that come over the line.
}

Alkanphel nods to Maica'telcontar as he makes his introduction. "Well met," he begins with a grin. He opens his mouth to continue but is distracted by Nathi's departure. Reluctantly, he lets her go. 'Goddamn it she's leaving me alone with these bastards?!' he thinks, pushing his brows together as he watches her depart. Suddenly disinterested in the conversation, his shoulders slump as he examines her company, and his grin disappears instantly. His hands grasp at the air as he clutches and opens his fists reflexively, his rage replaced a moment later by sadness and desperation. Behind him, the Marshals approach. As if sensing their approach, Alkanphel begins to turn.

"Hey boss. Looks like you found the hornet's nes--" Sudani stopped. He and the Easterling exchanged a few hurried phrases in Haradrim as they examined Alkanphel as they had never seen him before--despondent. The men both knew better than to query the Warlord as to his emotional status, as to do so might have dire consequences. They didn't know quite how to handle it.

"What...what's going on?" starts Hattori, lifting a brow.

Alkanphel glances over his shoulder at the Trium delegation and closes his eyes for a moment. "I am sorry I must be leaving you so soon gentlemen, but I..." he pauses, trying to approximate his state of mind and put it into words. He fails. Without a nother word he turns and makes for the door.

The Marshals just stand there for a moment and watch him stalk past. In unison they look to the assembled dignitaries. Sudani points to the diminishing Alkanphel and mouths "What the fuck?" at the delegation. Hattori jabs his companion in the ribs and drags him off in short order, hissing something at the Southron in the Black Speech.

Maile continues searching the ballroom, disappointment steadily building.

Treznor chuckles gently and pats her hand. "I'm glad my timing was good. But hey, just because we have a reason to celebrate doesn't mean East and West are going to shake hands. I think you should be proud that you've got them in the same room without bloodshed. It's a considerable feather in your cap, you know."

He drains his glass and casually places it on the tray of a hovering waiter. "Me, I've been brokering deals in smoke-filled rooms. Nothing sordid, I promise, unless you have a yen for heavy textiles. I just got free to join the Lady of the Hour in her glory."

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< I didn't say it would get you down, did I? I merely pointed it out as proof that he's been behaving himself. Something else has you down. I presume it has something to do with oil and water.
}

Phooush, who has been watching and listening quietly after making his greeting, looks at the assembled Trium group, then Alkanphel. The visible switching of temperment causes him to look in the direction of the Maia's gaze towards Nathicana and Devon. He sniffs the air slightly. "Admiral, do you smell that?"

Shaar watches as the Maia, and his two Marshals, disengage and leave the vicinity. "I have been smelling ... many things. But I know of what you speak. Pheremones. From the Ardan." Her head turns as the Major indicates the direction of his gaze when the pheremones began wafting. "Oh, this is rich indeed!"

“Lady of the Hour indeed,” she scoffs quietly. “All this pomp and fuss … the gifts,” she says, running her fingertips gently over the box, and remembering belatedly that she had left the globe with Razak in her haste to get away from the stand-off that she had simply been too tired and too emotionally unprepared to shut down in her usual imperious manner. Well damn. Going to have to apologize to him anyway, damn his stubborn hide. I suppose an added excuse to see him wouldn’t hurt.

“All this ridiculous carrying on just for a bit of legitimacy. Who’d have thought, hmm? Damn you. And him. And all you cantankerous bastards for making my life difficult. I never wanted this,” she says, her smile fading as she examines the crowd. Catching a glimpse of the tall, darkly-garbed Maia’s exit, she frowns further. “While you’ve been cutting your deals I’ve had at least ten years scared off me, dealt with some asshat who seemed hell-bent on starting a war over nothing, and had to put up with a bunch of men and their godsbedamned stiff necks and stubborn pride acting like a bunch of roosters facing off over the same yard. You’ll pardon if I don’t account it any accomplishment to have friends and guests ill at ease and leaving the room in a pique.”

She finishes off her wine, tossing it back quickly, not bothering to enjoy it as she usually would, the red-colored contacts making her irritated glare just that much more fiery. As was usual in her emotional reflexes, anger quickly overtook the hurt.

“You presume correctly,” she says, letting the silent method of communication slide. “He has been behaving himself – a good deal better than others I could mention whom I had thought better of. Say what you want of the man, he did make the effort to walk right into the lion’s den there, and I’d daresay, for my sake at least tried to be civil. Thank god for the Sakkrans and Tsume. Hell, even Maica made an attempt, and I owe him an apology as well.”

Of course, the warlord had then stormed off rather than make any effort to come after her or show support, being as wrapped up in the posturing as the others. The fact that she had excused herself first of course, didn’t count. Nor did the fact that Treznor's sudden appearance likely had a lot to do with it. After a long and very draining day, a rational emotional response was not her strong point.

The Marshals hasten to catch up with the Ainu as he exits the ballroom. Sudani lights a ciagrette once he's outside, pulling it from his lips once the door shuts to ask the obvious question. "What the hell was that all about?"

Alkanphel closes his eyes and draws his jaw. "That," he starts slowly, "Is none of your goddamn business," he growls, slumping against the wall.

The two Marshals look at each other curiously, and shrug in unison. "Well... what are we doing, then? Are we just gonna stand here, or what?"

Alkanphel doesn't bother to lift his head. "I thought you two had a club to go to," he says to the ground.

"Bah, we'd been there already. It's startin' to wind down anyway. Figured things would be more interesting here, which seems to have been something of a misnomer."

Alkanphel waves a hand errantly towards the door. "You may go back in if you wish," he says. "I have no such desire. Try not to stoop to the level of the Triumvirate folks... vonKarma in particular. He's good and liquored up, I think."

Hattori nods. "Right..." he says warily, exchanging another glance with the Haradrim. The two men quietly discuss their options, chattering softly. Eventually, curiousity wins out and they push the door open, walking back in and taking another quick look around. Sudani, forgetting his cigarette [and the fact that he's not in Arda] for a moment, rushes back outside to dispose of it before anyone can say anything, returning a moment later.

"Christ, I feel like I'm gonna get jumped. We don't even have a nominal ally in this building!" notes the Southron.

Mancuso, in the meantime, is quite taken with his companion, listening with an interest that is anything but assumed. He listens to her narration, a mix of expressions flitting across his face, obviously never having heard quite this perspective of things, and more than a little intrigued.

“It was … unfortunate, though that word doesn’t do it justice, that your people were dealt with in such a shameful manner. One of the things I appreciate about our little mix here, really. Our willingness to live and let live – not that we don’t have our numerous failings as well,” he admits thoughtfully, his brow creasing.

As they come to one of the ristorantes, he finds a free table, pulling out a chair for her and helping her to her seat if she allows, then taking a chair for himself. “If I may be so bold, my lady, you have shown incredible strength and foresight to carry on as you have. It’s no wonder she looks up to you so. Doing what is needed rather than what is popular … too few leaders are able to do that very thing. Now see, this is what I meant by ‘vision of society’. And by all accounts and the burden of proof … you’ve done an amazing job of it.”

The man smiles pleasantly, studying her with obvious fascination, and a good deal of respect. “There is no need for ‘repayment’ of any sort, Lady Shodan. I would be honored to visit in whatever capacity. I doubt very much there is little of interest, despite your protestations to the contrary. Now, what can I get you?”

S.H.O.D.A.N. accepts the seat with a slight bow and a smile. "Failings, yes, but quite a few achievements as well. Such a simple courtesy as getting one's seat would never have happened a hundred years ago--rarity aside, of course. 'Three steps forward and two back' is still an example of progress.

"I do have unfair advantages over organic leaders, as mentioned previously," she continues, watching the man get into his own chair. "My populace is somewhat more rational on average and can at least see my utility. I can also take greater measures to prevent and dissuade dangerous dissent. Willpower is not the only strength I have to call on." She smiles, perhaps a little wryly. "Let's just say I'm quite good at my job."

The avatar smiles more pleasantly at that last. "Then I can arrange it on the motivation of repayment and you can accept it on the motivation of honor or curiosity or simply, hopefully, desire." Her eyes quite literally flick over a menu momentarily as she speaks; she then turns the page and her eyes flick again, indicative of another 'unfair advantage.' "From my other guests, I know a few of the Project Sectors that house some of my hobbies seem to be pleasant enough to draw visitors. I'm sure I could manage a guided tour."

Part of being a good guest is accepting hospitality when offered, even though Shodey knows for a fact her fluid disposable income is far in excess of the good diplomat's. "Now, how to answer that... I'm sure you've already gathered that this avatar doesn't particularly have to eat, but can as a supplimental source of resources or energy. Depending on the circumstances and just how low my sense of humor is at the moment, I've been known to try anything from raw oysters to motor oil... as we're not at a hardware store, I think I'll just start off with a light wine--your choice."

Razak looks down at the package under his arm. "Oh... yeah. Forgot about that."

Shaking his head, the kzintosh takes advantage of his superior height to take note of Nathi's position. "She does not look pleased at all at our little display. Give her a few more minutes."

The silver-haired man grimaces, something the lines on his face show to be a far more natural expression for him than smiling. "Had to be done. I've spent my life fighting bastards like that and I'm not going to lie and hide what everyone knows to be my true feelings on the matter just for appearances' sake. I'll reiterate my apology for what happened but not for what I did."

Speaker shrugs. "It could have gone better, yes, but it could have also gone much worse. I am only worried we came out looking the worst in that exchange."

"Well, if relations with the Dominion suddenly tank and she defects to Arda, you can have me shot for treason," Razak grumbles, peeking back in the wrapper at Shaar's gift. "Until then, I may as well march on over there and get my drubbing." Tucking it back under his arm, he makes his way in the direction Speaker is looking.

"Hardheaded, a little?" The kzin replies in an exasperated voice, hands going up in a gesture of in-the-middleness. "Can you not just wait a few minutes?"

"Look, Speeks," the man stops, turns around, and looks up with a firm-jawed frown, "there's a reason the word 'vendetta' is Italian. The sooner I get this fixed and get my tounge-lashing, the better. Hell, I was in the M.I. for over twenty years; I've had more dress-downs than I can count and I can take another one." Turning back around, he proceeds on course, holding the package in front of him to make his purpose essentially evident. The unhappy and introspective frown probably doesn't hurt, either.

Tsume shakes his head and sips at his 'drink' as the previously terse group splits off. "It's a very good thing Queenie couldn't attend tonight. At least things failed to come to blows."

The black drake notes Alkanphel's two lackeys return, but not the warlord. Hrm... that is odd. Perhaps there's more merit to those intelligence reports about a sordid love triangle than I'd thought.

Perhaps emboldened a little by his binging earlier in the evening, the reploid wanders over to the two Marshals, figuring that political and ideological differences aside, it was supposed to be a happy occasion and so long as OPSEC wasn't violated and it didn't come to blows, there was no harm in talking to 'the enemy'. "Evening, gents. Tsume Dragonis, Reploid Productions." The drake flashes a fanged grin. "And no, not all of the Trium reps bite. Been a lively evening, hasn't it?"

“Simple courtesy is one of the things that set us apart from the rabble, and provides a point of unity – regardless of race, creed, color, or origins. If we cannot succeed at such small niceties, how can we expect to succeed when larger, more weighty matters are on the table? As for your advantages, unfair or otherwise, it is a foolish leader who does not use all of them to their advantage and betterment of their nation. You’ve yet to strike me as foolish, Lady,” he says, murmuring a quiet ‘scuse’ as a waitress approaches and he orders the wine.

“Moscato d'Asti, due, with a dish of Mascarpone and tangerines, grazie.” As the woman confirms and heads off with the order, Fabian turns back to S.H.O.D.A.N. and smiles, shrugging mildly. “Whether a need or not, one may as well enjoy oneself when the opportunity is presented, no? While not requested, I thought the appetizer might be a welcome addition. The combination of flavors for the palate to experience … I admit it. I do rather enjoy such quiet pleasures. While I can’t say I’m adventurous enough to try, say, motor oil,” this delivered with an amused grin, “perhaps you will join me in sampling a bit of mundane fruit and cheese with our wine?”

"That would be the distinction between 'adventurous' and 'foolish,'" S.H.O.D.A.N. chuckles, her kimono shifting slowly as she sits back. "I like varied flavors myself and so would be happy to join you.

"Your words are kind," the Gestalt replies, "but everyone has their own basis for what sets them 'apart from the rabble.' For some it's courtesy, for others honesty, and so on and so forth. My own would probably be a utilitarian Machiavellian rationality where 'good' and 'necessary' go hand-in-hand. I've discovered myself to despise cruelty for no reason, and I'm sure you know that I have quite a bit of experience in that regard." A slight frown of memories and times long past, not forgotten but accepted. "Cruelty with a purpose, alternately... well, let us simply say the little spat over Allanea served a purpose."

She smiles a bit more, leaning a little more forward in her seat. "Still, I think my political history and policies are self-evident, and now is not a time for talking shop. Carnivale--an interesting irony, don't you think? It takes everyone putting masks on for them to remove the masks of their society and culture and interact on a more basic and perhaps more truthful level. Certainly we all take parts still, but at least these parts are obviously affectations."

Treznor snorts undiplomatically. "You knew it was going to be like this. I warned you. S.H.O.D.A.N. warned you. Anyone familiar with royalty and coronations could have warned you. I'll grant that you've had a lot on your mind, but I'll remind you again. Now that you've officially crowned yourself, you're going to have to put up with a lot more nonsense, particularly from your own people. This is just just the tip of the ice berg. Leaders come and go, but royalty..."

He follows Nathicana's glance toward the retreating back of the the Five Kingdoms Warlord. "Either he's got balls of solid rock, or he's making a genuine attempt at diplomacy. Maybe both. We'll have to point out to our allies that he made the opening move, and now it's our turn. I'm guessing he won't care to hear it from me. I can't believe Speaker-rrit insulted him, though. Razak, I'd believe. I hope you'll forgive us all; this is new territory for everyone, Ardan and Triumvirate alike. It's hard for any of us to believe Alkanphel has anything other than conquest and dissention in mind. I'm still trying to get used to it.

"As for the rest, well, I apologise. We men are more trouble than we're worth. That's why I'm still amazed you said 'yes.'" He glances around and gestures to a young waitress bearing a tray of glasses. "Speaking of which, are you ready? It's your party."

You say, "Why does everything revolve around you?"
You say, "Why does everything I do confound you?"
You say that I pulled the world from under you,
You can't go through it this time

The weary Maia heaves himself off the wall, tucking his hands into his pockets. He begins to meander through the Piazza, his emotions flickering from rage to jealousy to depression and back within a matter of seconds.

And I could be good, and I would - If I knew I was understood
And it'll be great, just wait - Or is it too little too late?

He scowls at the sky--at the fates that had insisted on this sordid situation. He couldn't help but balme himself to an extent, but that wasn't much consolation. He never expected it to backfire like this anyway. He couldn't bear the thought of playing second fiddle to a human. Silently, he cursed Eru.

One day, this embarrassment will fade behind me
And that day I could think of things that won't remind me
But these days it's unbearable for both of us
We can't discuss it this way

His pride had told him of course that it was a different ordeal altogether to bow to Melkor--he didn't often enjoy the thought of being a number two--especially in this situation. Yes, it was different with Melkor, he assured himself. the principle was completely different...

I'm gaining strength, tying to learn pull my own weight
But I'm gaining pounds at the precipice of Too Late
Just Wait

...But was it, really? He began to doubt.

I could be good, and I would - If I knew I was understood
And it'll be great, just wait - Or is it too little too late?

Shaking off this other line of thought, his brows creased and he drew his jaw. The situation here was drawing parallels in his mind that he didn't like. His mind was consumed with an overpowering sense of futility and despair. Was it the authority? The history? Or was there something wrong with him? He couldn't shake the feeling that he was just being humored.

Record and play, after years of endless rewind
Yesterday wasn't half as tough as this time
This time isn't Hell,
Last time, I couldn't tell
This mind wasn't well
Next time, hope I'm...

Now more than ever he yearned for the gift of foresight, so that he might releive himself with some glimmer of hope for a more pleasing future. Such as it was, he found no consolation in pondering the future. Only a short while ago he had convinced himself that the hardest was over, but perhaps this was not the case.

Going to be good, and I would -
If I knew I was understood
And it'll be great, just wait -
Or is it too little too late?

She kept hinting that nothing had to change, of course, but that didn't matter to him. Not then. Not now. It was the principle of the union rather than the practice that irritated him so. He would know that he was at best a second-rate companion, and this was more than enough to fill his mind with anger and doubt, especially considering his better.

Good, and I would -
If I knew I was understood
And it'll be great, just wait -
Or is it too little too late?

"Goddamn woman," he muttered, turning the corner. He shuddered at the thought of returning to his room in the Palace, and settled for wandering the Piazza for the time being. He didn't have anything better to do anyway...

***
The two Marshals bow to the Reploid. Sudani fingers his cloak idly and cracks a grin. "Of course, If I were to expect any one of you to actually bite, it'd be you." He lifts a finger. "If we're going by appearances, that is." He steps aside as he gestures towards his companion. "This is Dash Hattori of the Iron Mountains, Imperator Marshal and civil administrator of Nova Rhûn."

Hattori bows his head slightly and smiles politely. "Greetings."

"I am Khaled Sudani of Near Harad, likewise a Marshal and civil administrator and all that happy horseshit. It's quite nice to be here tonight, I must say. Even if the company has been less than pleasant in many cases. From what I gathered, the Warlord's first foray into this room was quite disastrous. Have you any idea what happened to him? We've never seen him like this."

The reploid shakes his head. "I imagine it was a combination of things... certainly a few acidic words from Trium leaders alone wouldn't cause too large a problem, as I imagine some measure of dickishness would be expected and braced for."

He casts a glance in the direction of Skyraider and that reploid's virtually obscene costume. "I did earlier note he left with my fellow delegate, Skyraider, who...." He coughs politely. "Has some serious gender identity issues. Entire volumes even. But I suspect whatever the problem may be has to do with the lady of the evening, since I observed he seemed to rather wilt when she hurried off."

Tsume rustles his wings briefly in thought. "I will admit I do not agree in the least with the... management... of Arda, but there's a reason I'm here tonight and not Firefury-sama. I only look like I'd bite. She probably would, though not literally." He grins one of those fanged grins again. "Admittedly, I am slightly tanked already. Perhaps we should hunt your warlord friend down and apply the fraternity solution? Enough booze seems to work wonders on most people."

The two men raise their eyebrows and chatter quietly for a moment in Haradrim.

Hattori clears his throat after a time. "Somehow I'd estimate that our presence would be rather unwelcomed at this point, particularly if what you say is true. I didn't figure a few words would piss him off that much either, but he didn't seem angry really.. he seemed..."

"Defeated," interjects the Southron. "It's baffling, in a way. We've been trying to figure it out for the last few minutes but what you're saying seems to make sense. Besides, I think booze might be part of the problem. Alkanphel seldom drinks, and when he does it's hard to distinguish from when he's sober, in truth. Only way to tell really is to give it the old sniff test. I'm pretty sure he's fairly liquored up, but what happened in here--whatever it was-- seems to have been a soberin experience."

Tsume tips his head to the side in thought. "Defeated? Correct me if I'm horribly off the mark here, but he doesn't strike me as the sort to be easily felled. It must be relationship problems." He crosses his arms and nods sagely. "So no booze... it is a depressant. There's always various hallucenogenic drugs, or there's bound to be a strip joint somewhere in this town."

"In any case, it isn't my place to apologize for my fellow Trium reps, but I can at least apologize that the entire little exchange went so poorly. Ideological differences aside, two sentients ought to be able to have a civil discussion at a gathering like this. And I do have to apologize for Skyraider. I would bet a rather large sum of money that maniac acted in a way completely inappropriate for a Diplomatic Corps officer."

“I know, I know,” she mutters, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair back from her face. “I know, and I’m still irritated. Not to mention, I’ve felt like a child who’s been caught playing dress-up in their mother’s good jewelry. Putting on airs and the like, pretending to be what I’m not. I know it’s for the best, I know it’s what needed doing … and damned if it isn’t going to take me a good long while to adjust. I’m just glad the move has been so well-received.”

She looks at him sharply at his comment about Speaker, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You will tell me what they said, yes? I’m afraid I’m not up on my Hero’s as yet. It certainly didn’t sound complimentary, regardless. I don’t expect everyone to suddenly be lifelong friends by any stretch, but by damn, a bit of decorum …” Nathi stops that line of thought right there, choosing to simply nod in agreement, giving him a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement.

“Frankly, I’m surprised you asked, knowing what you’re in for, mi amore. ‘Balls of solid rock’, you mentioned … if I didn’t know from personal experience that isn’t the case with you, I’d wonder, truly.” Stopping the girl and exchanging her empty glass for a full one, she nods. “Ready if you are.”

Seeing Razak approaching, she puts on a cooly pleasant smile. “A moment, per favore,” she says quietly, indicating the tray with a glance. “We’ll talk.”

A signal to the closed center box, the message is relayed, and the background music that has continued to play ends with a flourish. Stepping to the center of the staircase, keeping Treznor close, she raises her glass, and addresses the room in a clear voice that carries, obviously used to command.

“My friends, honored guests, I sincerely thank you for making this an event that will not soon be forgotten in the Dominion. Your presence and support on this historic day have meant more to me than I can say, and I could not possibly be more pleased, nor more humbled by your graciousness.”

“While you are all free to enjoy yourselves til the dawn breaks over this fair city, should you choose, this brings an official close to the scheduled festivities. Thank you all for participating. We hope that you have all enjoyed yourselves as much as we have in hosting you. Before I close, there is one small matter of business that has been waiting for some time to be properly resolved.”

Breaking into a genuine smile, she looks over at Devon, then back out at the crowd, giving him another affectionate squeeze before cutting right to the chase. “It is my privilege to announce publicly that Emperor Devon Treznor, who stands here with me now, has asked for my hand in marriage.” She pauses briefly, looking back to him again, her smile broadening. “It is my pleasure to say that I have willingly accepted.”

“It has been a day for announcements, the forging of new ties, and the renewal of old on many fronts, it would seem. All things being equal, I personally count this one as the sweetest. To beginnings, and friends both new and old. And to Devon Treznor – who has made me the happiest woman in the Dominion. Salut!” She raises her glass, turning more fully to face the object of her affection, gently taps, then drinks, her earlier irritation for the moment, forgotten.

'Quit being such a goddamn coward,' a voice inside him chided. 'Get your ass back in there and try to forget about it. Brooding solves nothing.'

Alkanphel stops and draws his hands from his pockets, casting a glance over his shoulder back to the ballroom, where the sounds of mirth could till faintly be heard trickling through the ebon sky. "To Hell with it all," he reasons, turning on his heels. "It's nothing new, I suppose. I should have known."

His face becomes expressionless as he represses just about everything he's feeling, bottling his emotions like a champion. The casual observer can still tell there's something amiss, but the lack of pain or anger on his face makes the spectacle puzzling. He pauses for a moment to take a look at the building, leaning back slightly to take in its full height as he stands at the door. "Hm," he starts, pushing the door open.

The crowd seems to quiet down and he hurries in, intrigued by the lull. This ought to be good...

His timing was magnanimous. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," he mutters to himself as she speaks. "For the love of..." His face remains completely expressionless as he stands there. He starts to turn again, reaching for the door. He stops, and clenches his fist--and his teeth.

'I don't know how much more of this I can take.'

***
Sudani clears his throat. "Well apparently I was absent for this 'Skyraider' person's misbehavior, as well as the earlier exchange by our good Warlord and your folks." He winks. "I'll take your word on it I suppose."

Hattori opens his mouth to add something, but is silenced by Nathicana's speech. The two men turn towards her and listen closely, unable to suppress an instincive scowl at the mention of Devon.

"Hm. I'd thought better of her," notes the Easterling once she's finished. "That guy's a world class asshole. Can't imagine what the hell she sees in him. I mean, they're both pretty well off so it can't be for the money."

Sudani snickers. "Who knows. 'S far as I know they've been an item for a while now anyway." He shrugs. "No matter, it's not my life to piss away, no? Doesn't make a damn bit of difference to me, and it probably doesn't change much at any rate."

Nonetheless, the two men offer polite applause.

Treznor chuckles. "You'd have to tell me what they said before I could translate it for you. I just got here, remember?"

He waits patiently, staying close as requested until Nathicana finishes her toast. Then he raises his glass high and cheers with the rest. "Qui qui!" he takes a healthy swallow from his glass, noting the return of Alkanphel over the rim. He pauses to grin, reminding himself that it's poor manners to gloat but being unable to help himself. Then, when the opportunity arises he raises his glass again.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he cries with a strength of voice that might surprise those who haven't seen him speak publicly before. "Honoured guests of the Dominion. In return I toast the health and prosperity of our hostess, the Imperatrice and my beloved. It's been a long, hard road to get here and I'm as surprised as any that I survived the trip. May Nathicana rule long, live happily, and may our children ever prosper."

He grins again and drains his glass.

The urge to rip the door from its hinges and cast it to the ground in pain and rage is certainly undeniable. To avoid doing so demands a great show of restraint on Alkanphel's part, but for what it's worth, he manages to avoid doing so. The Maia's eyes flicker, but his expression does not change save for a slight tightening around his eyes and his jaw. His feet remain firmly planted where they are, and he stands like a statue before the door, brimming with rage.

Sudani furrows a brow, oddly compelled to follow Devon's gaze at the emphasis. Seeing Alkanphel, he jabs Hattori in the ribs with his elbow. "Check it out."

The Easterling turns and regards the Maia, lifting a brow. "Well I'll be god-damned," he says simply. "He looks like he's about to explode."

"Fuck. We gotta do something. If he goes off, we're totally boned." Sudani starts towards the Maia but is halted by his companion.

"No. He knows better. If he was gonna lose it, he'd have lost it by now."

Sudani stops, conceding the point. "Yeah, I guess you're right..." he trails off, pulling his gaze from the seething Ainu and back to Nathi and Devon.

Hattori grunts. "I'm not looking forward to the ride home, I tell you what.."

Razak nods and stands to the side at rest. Another standard of the dress-down is the hurry-up-and-wait; something he's used quite a few times in the past and so has come to expect it in situations like these. Lacking a charged glass, he simply nods respectfully at the toast.

Oh well, he muses, it's not like this wasn't going to happen eventually. This last exchange was actually rather tame, given industry standard. Of course, with Alkanphel's reentry, things once again get possibly more difficult; the silver-haired man finds himself wondering why the hell antipathic world politics and what appears to be a slowly-expanding soap opera drama have to mix so.

Tsume listens quietly to Nathicana's speech, and can't help but follow the Marshals' glances. "I couldn't tell you what those two see in eachother- it's admittedly not in a reploid's standard programming... and sweet Goddess Shimeki, he does look ready to blow."

The drake taps a talon on his muzzle for a moment. "Even if he isn't going to blow here, I would highly recommend getting him away from what is undoubtedly the source of his irate stance. Better to reduce the odds of an ugly international incident, since we can safely confirm that there are a few folks present who'd quite gladly get into a fight here if only he throws first."

<LOS Communcations – Devon>
{
<< You gave the impression that you’d heard …

<< Goddamn your hide, Devon Treznor. It isn’t enough that the others had to bait, I suppose? Just [b]had to get your digs in after the man sucked it up, swallowed a bit of pride, and came back in? Jesu dolce! [scowl analog]
}

Nathicana raises her glass again in turn, for all the world seeming just as pleased as can be with the whole affair. Of course, via their silent means of communication, Devon is feeling the full wrath of her decidedly sharp tongue as she vents all her frustration and disappointment in the behaviour of the lot of them on him. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right, but as often happens, he is the only available target who can be dealt with at the moment with any measure of decorum, and having spoken last, gets to endure the run of angry commentary, all delivered fast and hard in her native language.

“Thank you, one and all. With that I bid you all a good night, and offer my hopes that you will enjoy the rest of your stay.” As her gaze passes over Alkanphel, she pauses, eyes locking briefly with his, then turns to Razak, a pleasant smile still in place, and her technologically-assisted tirade drawing to a close.

“Something I can do for you, old man?” she asks quietly, stepping off to the side and back towards the wall to start with a bit more privacy, letting Treznor choose for himself whether to join or wait.

Tsume listens quietly to Nathicana's speech, and can't help but follow the Marshals' glances. "I couldn't tell you what those two see in eachother- it's admittedly not in a reploid's standard programming... and sweet Goddess Shimeki, he does look ready to blow."

The drake taps a talon on his muzzle for a moment. "Even if he isn't going to blow here, I would highly recommend getting him away from what is undoubtedly the source of his irate stance. Better to reduce the odds of an ugly international incident, since we can safely confirm that there are a few folks present who'd quite gladly get into a fight here if only he throws first."

"He won't," grunts the Southron simply, squinting at the Warlord. "Dash was right, Alkanphel's an 'immediate reaction' kind of guy. If he was gonna do something, it would have happened already. He's probably just figuring out what to do, or how to leave again without losing face."

Hattori lifts a brow. "This is very strange," he notes again. "I mean damn, I've seen him mad, but never like this. It's usually a more... overt and obvious rage. Still, I can't imagine that he thinks this is a good place to lose it. He's usually pretty level-headed, even when he's upset. If this pisses him off so much, either he already knew, or..." he trails off.

Sudani shrugs. "Either that or he's not as mad as we think he is." He squints at Alkanphel, who still stands before the door, stalwart amidst the animate crowd. "Nope. It's not that. He's awful pissed alright. He must have known already. God only knows how."

The Easterling crosses his arms. "Didn't he spend an inordinate amount of time here some weeks ago? I seem to remember some sort of... violent outburst at Utumno, immediately followed by a trip here to Devras. Maybe that had something to do with it. He does have a seeing stone."

The Haradrim scratches his head. "But why would this piss him off so much? It's not like it's a huge change. It's not like she's suddenly going to hate us because she's married to a douchebag who does." He grins nervously. "At least, I hope not."

Hattori turns his head towards the Southron, never taking his gaze off Alkanphel. He says something in his native tounge.

Sudani strokes his chin. "Well, it fits. Yeah, you've got to be right. Freaky."

"Well, ya forgot your present from the Sakkrans," the silver-haired man says as he proffers the package, "although I can understand why. More importantly, I'd like to apologize for what happened but not my actions."

For once, he doesn't smirk, face stonily serious. "Since long before you arrived on the scene, Scolopendran-Ardan 'dialogue' has been far, far less civil than that last little portion. Part of it is because their chief 'diplomat' is a foul-mouthed flunkie who managed to survive Nargothrond and that immediately puts him in a position to assault anyone who disagrees with Ardan policy, but most of it is because I've spent my entire life fighting people like Alkanphel. Everything I stand for, he stands against; he is a force for slavery, oppression, and the totalitarian subjugation of all to his master, which is appropriate for a lackey like him.

"Civility is a sign of respect, or a tool to be utilized. I have no respect for that man, and he has no respect for us. I'm just an honest trooper, so I cannot be true to myself and feign respect at the same time just to play nice and gloss over what everyone, especially he, knows. Civility can be a tool for improving relations. To be perfectly honest, neither my people nor his ruler desire better relations without a major ideological shift first. As long as Arda represents oppression, we will not parlay with it beyond the point necessary to prevent mutual annihilation. As long as we oppose Arda at every turn, I'm sure Alkanphel isn't going to propose any trade agreements or diplomat exchanges so we can get to know each other better and both look the other way just so we can be dear, dear, friends.

"You knew this, Tsume knew this, Speeks knew this, the Sakkrans knew this, and, most of all, Alkanphel knew this. Given the industry standard of our usual invectives, he should've shrugged these right off. Apparently there's something else for him to be mad at, but that's beyond the point. In that situation, there's three options--leave, remain silent, or speak. The former two would've gotten me in trouble anyway because neither of those are polite either; only the last allows me to be true to myself and my activism."

He pauses. Still solidly affirmative, he does allow a slight introspective frown to pass over his otherwise firm jaw. "It's not nice, and perhaps it's not appropriate, but that's how it turned. There's a reason I wasn't actively trying to meet him; and that was because I knew I could be civil in almost any event excluding that. As it was, the issue was pressed--more power to him--and a reaction just as statistically predictible as mixing sodium and water occured. The timing and location were unfortunate, and I am sorry for that"--a deeper frown--"but I could not have acted any other way and remain true to myself and the situation."

Speaker grumbles softly to himself in a slightly different corner of the room, mostly just watching everyone else and waiting for things to get worse. I suddenly do not want to be here... time to sober up but fast.

Shaar watches and listens as Nathicana makes her announcement. She and Phooush both lift their glasses and give a low Hoot from their nostrils, and drain the contents of their respective mugs; Phooush with his champagne, Shaar with her rum.

"So that is the Emperor Treznor of rumor. Never met the human myself, but they seem joined at the hip, so to speak. The Pantheon watch over them." He bobs his head at the mention of the Sakkran Deities.

Shaar does the same. "The Pantheon watch over us all." She completes the ancient phrase, and listens as Devon makes his announcement. "He projects well. For a human." Her one eye follows the direction of his gaze over the lip of his glass, and lands on the returned Ardan.

"Oh, this is not good. Phooush, be alert for an incident. Eyes on the happy couple; i'll eyeball Alkanphel. You know what to do if something looks like trouble." She grips the floor slightly with her clawed feet.

Phooush seems to notably stiffen up. "Confirmed."

Nathicana quietly accepts the package, tucking it into the crook of her arm. She makes no move to interrupt, nor does she scowl or glare, nor give Razak any of her usual imperious attitude when irritated or on the defense. Having vented her frustration already, and lost what steam she had built up from the incident, which was in the grand scheme of things a very small matter, she was better able to step back and see things from a different point of view. This was a pattern she knew Devon was intimately familiar with when it came to her temperament. Others, however …

“I understand more about your history than you may think,” she begins, her voice quiet but confident, but with a soothing tone she usually reserved for delicate situations. “I would not ask you, my friends, to misrepresent yourselves, nor impugn your honor, nor insult those values that you have fought, bled, and sacrificed for. While our cultures have some surprising similarities, it is also no secret that we are a very different people with very different views on what is and is not acceptable, all the same. Perhaps a bit of clarity now will prevent further unnecessary duress should we ever have to deal with such situations again.”

“You are correct in your appraisal of the situation and your available choices, but you are mistaken in which one would have earned you more trouble. There is a saying; ‘Better to be silent and thought the ass than to open your mouth and remove all doubt’,” she says with a wry half-smile. “Be true to yourself all you need, my friend, but remember that when you sling mud, as much tends to get on yourself and others as your intended target. Not that I am a good one to lecture on that point. Now let me try to explain my own position at the time.”

“This one night of all nights, after a long day full of exhausting formality and pomp, never mind feeling strung out from all the sleepless nights previous involved in the planning, I had hoped that while not expecting nor wanting any of you to pretend you’re lifelong friends, knowing the position I am in and understanding the complexity of the situation, I could depend on you, my friends, for a little respect and support – for me, not for him. I hadn’t expected the two camps to interact, all things considered. Had everyone been able to keep their cool it would have been polite introductions, as decorum demands, and a hasty withdrawal taking him with me to avoid putting you any more on the spot than I already had … ” Sighing, Nathi pauses, rubbing her fingertips across her forehead, then looking back at the man with a wistful smile.

“Of all those who could be taking advantage of the old tradition, you are the only one so far to do so, inadvertent though it be. You are also the least in need of it. I am sorry to have put you through all that, and doubly sorry that I was not up to the task of refereeing as I should have been. Leaving was the only action I could think of at the time that would both distract and break off the building altercation, and keep me from making matters worse and more of a scene – and you know damn well I could do it, man. Please, after such a wonderful night, with so many good laughs and fun, lets not let such a small but infuriating and personal thing ruin it all.”

Leaning in, Nathicana offers Razak a chaste, tight hug. “Don’t let something like this put distance between us. You were one who first showed me how this whole friendship thing works, way back when. I don’t know what I’d do without you, boy. And Speaker. And Shodey. And that damn drunken vonKarma. And Maica. And all the rest of you wonderful, irritatingly-idealistic people who have somehow managed to both complicate and make my life better just for knowing you,” she says very quietly before drawing back and looking at him searchingly.

“I have others I ought to apologize to as well. Having friends in distress on my account is a nearly unforgivable sin when it comes to hospitality, after all. Perhaps if it is not an imposition, you would accompany me so see at least some of them? I can see at least one rather tall fuzzy one who seems to be in more distress than I care to see him in.”

<LOS Communcations – Devon>
{
<< Mea culpa, mi amore. I am sorry for all that earlier, believe it or not. I just need to touch base with our friends, and then have a quiet word with Alkanphel. I don’t expect you to accompany me, though I would welcome it if you would to all but that last.

<< Please, forgive the ranting. Let me make it up to you later? We may not have entered here together tonight, but by damn, if I’ve not put you totally off, I would love to leave it together. If the villa is too far, there are empty rooms still at the Pallazzo.

<< Christ, I don’t know why you put up with me.
}

Razak smiles wryly. "That's what happens when one invites an old trooper in. I am an ass, by trade. I've no problem with people seeing what is true. I'm again sorry to have imposed and make what has certainly been a stressful day worse. However, that's one of my strong suits--not being a diplomat.

"While I'd like to stay, I think I've made things bad enough as is. While I'm hardly going to hold a grudge on this--I'd have no right--it's plain enough to see that the easiest way to keep from making things worse is to take my leave. It is late, after all, and we've all had a busy day and tempers are short because of it. I'll accompany you as you think best, but will be sure to pack up and take my admittedly uncouth ass home when appropriate. As for fuzzy..."

Razak looks over his shoulder and chuckles a little. "Proper gentleman who was, actually, keeping his head. The impropriety was all mine. This should teach him not to bring me to thinks where niceties like tact are required."

“The easiest way to keep from making things worse is to cut the guilt bullshit, come with me to let our friends know all is well, and take advantage of the offered hospitality, damn your stubborn hide. Yes, it’s late. All the more reason to end the day on a positive note, no? As for the ‘when appropriate’, I’d think that would be after you’ve had a chance to get a good night’s sleep at the very least. After all, stalking the recently crowned, carousing with pirates and great hairy beasts, and putting up with yours truly is tiring work,” Nathi says with a smile, though her eyes show a touch of worry.

“I’m glad you came, old man. Wouldn’t have had it any other way, so don’t go thinking to beg off any future visits. Besides, we’ve a hunt to plan sometime, where we can toss the fluff, relax, and just be ourselves without worry – something you ought to know I much prefer. Now. Lets at least go see Speaker. I think I’ve caused him enough trouble for one evening.”

Razak raises an eyebrow, then shrugs, declining to press the issue further. If Nathi doesn't want a calm, fair admittion of the truth, that's her call; no need to press anything on someone already stressed and unwilling. No need even to dismiss the charge of guilt-laying... "Okay, whatever makes ya happy."

The kzintosh seems to relax a little seeing Nathi not quite so tense, but remains on guard--nonverbal cues are still quite a bit elevated, after all. "I am sorry that things went so... poorly," he grumbles, looking none-too-happily at Razak. "We probably enjoyed ourselves too much previously, forgetting our duties."

Nathi lets Razak’s comment slide, knowing damn well how things stand with him, and that nothing she says will change his mind on it, much as she’d like. As for Speaker, she chuckles and shakes her head slightly, looking up at the big kzin with a wry smile.

“Your ‘duty’ was to enjoy yourselves – which it seems you were doing a fine job of until I tried to play happy little deluded hostess. I apologize for not better understanding natural limitations and relying on my own social standards rather than taking others into account more. As I said to Razak here, please, lets not end the night on a negative note. I will have failed entirely if at least my friends can’t feel welcome and at ease in my home – which technically, this city is.”

“Excellent,” Fabian says with a smile. “And true, true, we all have our societal norms and tolerances, but I still stand by my opinion of courtesy and tact as being an important factor among more advanced sentients. I find myself agreeing with you on rationality, however. Cruel or kind, I think there ought always be purpose to ones actions. Given the reality in which we operate, it is foolish to assume that one will never be faced with the former, nor think there is no use for the latter.”

He shrugs at the mention of Allanea, smiling and making a vague gesture that seems to say ‘fine and well, but of little consequence to us’, tactfully letting the unfortunate incident slide.

“We’ve a long history of such celebrations, aye,” he says, murmuring a quiet thanks as the waitress returns with their drinks and tastefully-presented fruit and cheese. “I’ve always believed it a necessary aspect of our culture, given our natures, really. It gives us all a chance to either be something other than, or in some cases, more ourselves, without worry or reprisal. I think you know as well as I do the machinations and tight levels of control needed to carry them out that exist in our nation. Even if one doesn’t feel the need to cut loose in that way, the easing of usual restraints and temporary reprieve from everyday responsibilities is something of a necessity, really. I think we might very well explode without them. We work hard, we play hard. It is our nature.”

"On that note, the one about not ending on a negative...note, congratulations! Seems that TYL's intrepid Thrust Horsepower is lurking around here somewhere as well, as the news is already all over the Link. What can I say, celebrity weddings are still hot topics in even this day and age. KCTS KruiseWerks has already offered up a primo suite on the Glory of Titan for whenever you choose, and I wouldn't be surprised if more gifts start showing up...I know how you love them." vK gives Nathi a wry grin, and offers a congratulatory hug.

"Now where did that old bastard Devon get too? I sent for a little something from my personal stocks on the Equilibrium and the runner should be here any minute."

"Oh good god ..." Nathi says, shaking her head and giving vK a big hug in return. Nothing short of disaster seemed to phase the man - something in truth, she appreciated about him. The rascal.

"It isn't the presents, really. It's all the fuss. Grazie, Xeruyu. You tell them we would be happy to accept - once our schedules clear. I'm afraid it's going to be busy for a while yet. This little 'shindig' was just the beginning. As for Devon," she pauses and glances around, her own wry smile echoing his.

"He was just here a moment ago ... no doubt as the reality of a lifetime stuck with me settles in, he'll be in need of a good stiff drink, no? Truly a masochist, that man."

Shodey nods, taking a small sip of wine and judging not only its flavor, but its purity by comparing chemical content to the accepted standard. Even though this deviates from the 'ideal,' she decides it's better for it. "Outstanding choice on the wine, Mr. Mancuso. It isn't often we have such things on Rhea." This is true enough; the fact that any of her hundreds of local Earth avatars can nip down to the local bar or liquor store is irrelevant for the needs of the conversation. "I do understand the underpinnings of Dominion culture and the need for release; honestly, I find it superior to more puritan cultures who simply demand increased control when dealing with natural instincts and imperatives with no thought as to safely venting the pressures that arise from it. Such attitudes simply breed illness, if the Victorian period is any indication.

"That is part of the reason I am so open to intellectual dissent and otherwise allow my citizenry to do as they wish," she continues with a smile, "that and tradition. Certainly we work hard, but even we do not want nor have to work endlessly if the situation does not demand it. After that, I simply facilitate my people's creativity and allow them to decompress, as it were, in whatever harmless ways they need... but we're slipping back towards an unhealthy concentration on me and mine." The avatar smiles genuinely, taking another sip of wine. "What about you? Seen anything of interest throughout your days?"

The Scolopendrans look at each other and chuckle. "Yeah... if I'm a jerk, I'm a veritable lamb compared to ol' vee-Kay. The bastard." Winking, Razak punches vK comradely in the shoulder. "Okay, mood improved through tactical use of hugs."

"Not everyone broke the bank getting you gifts," Speaker points out.

"Yeah. I feel like the kid who can get away with making macaroni art." Razak thinks for a moment. "Damn. I shoulda tried that."

"I did get away with a handmade gift," the kzintosh replies, poking Julius in the side.

"Grrr. No fair, Fuzzy--you've got culture to pull from."

"And I do it well, seven-eight. I wonder who else we can diplomatically terrorize." Speaker looks around the room, rubbing his chin with one broad hand.

"I'll take your advice and keep my mouth shut, at least until it seems safe to open it." Razak also looks around, but his steel-grey eyes seem to follow more of a purpose, darting to carefully note and track various personages through the room.

"You a lamb? Mind if I quote that? Where is that damn Thrust Horsepower, he should be recording this! Razak, the great, big, fluffy, cute, little lamb. And I guess that makes you the wolf, eh big guy?" vK nudges speaker.

"Speaking of predators, the Yelk are just coming into season on the ol' stompin grounds. Looks to be a good run of weather for the forseeable future as well. Of course, when the weather is engineered, that's hardly saying much is it?"

"A lamb that knows Krav Maga and can peg a Skwirrl from a thousand meters," grumbles Razak. "The most bad-ass lamb to ever grace the government of the Segments."

"Rawr," Speaker-Rrit says in a deadpan monotone.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< No apologies necessary, love. I know what you're going through. I tease because I can, scoundrel that I am.
}

Treznor approaches from the side bearing a small tray of shot glasses. "Did I hear someone say 'drinks?' Vitally important, if you ask me. The wine is superb, naturally, but I think this occasion calls for something a little different. Somebody on our Sslaa VIII colony decided to try his hand at low-temperature distillery. It's a little bit like saki, except you don't warm it up."

He offers the tray, taking one of the six glasses with his free hand.

"As for celebrity weddings, I think you'll have to fight with at least two Dominion broadcasting networks as well as my own news agency. I'm sure we can make arrangements for rebroadcast rights, though. My people don't normally count Titan as part of their demographic."

"Well, I would be remiss if I didn't sample some and report to the Emperor. For Imperial security, of course." Shaar takes one of the glasses, while Phooush declines. "Empress, to your health."

The glass is drank from to the halfway mark, and the Admiral wipes her mouth with a finger. "Hmmm...quite nice. Light flavor with a strong kick-back. I can feel my sinuses clearing already."

Nathi breathes a quiet sigh of relief as tensions ease, and the usual banter takes its place. She opens the delicate box to reveal a crystal rose, colored very dark purple color in its petals, and an equally dark green stem and leaves laying in the shaped velvet interior built to hold it. The beautiful flower is rather fragile looking, but upon closer inspection proves to be surprisingly resilient. The box also holds a heavy black crystal, hemispherical in shape, providing a base in which to place the rose to allow it to stand freely. All told, the rose itself seems to be about seven inches tall with the base being around three inches in diameter. Truly a magnificent gift. Smiling warmly, and perhaps a tad tiredly, she looks to Maica, offering him a hug as well. “I am sorry for having run off like that. My apologies, and my thanks for this beautiful rose. It was kind of you to come all this way, and to bring such a gift as well … truly more than I deserve.”

She nods and winks at vonKarma at his mention of hunting. “Oh I don’t know … I hear those Titan breeds can get a bit scary,” she jests. “Still, so long as there’s good sport available …”

Turning back to Razak and Speeks, she arches a brow, tilting her head slightly and smiling. “Alright now, boys. There is one thing I have to know … seven-eight. Explanation?” The arrival of the drinks interrupts her train of thought for a moment, and she looks over the shots somewhat nervously, though her eyes dart back to the pair, letting them know she’s not forgotten the question and hopes for at least some answer.

<LOS Communcations – Devon>
{
<< I wouldn’t have you any other way, mi amore. I like scoundrels after all. And you … you’re my favorite. [kiss analog]
}

“Oi, Dev,” she murmurs, reaching tentatively for a glass, her brows arching up at the Sakkran’s reaction to the stuff. “My thanks, Shaar. And if I may, to good friends.” With that, she also tosses her drink back, setting the glass back down on the tray. She smiles, then takes in a sharp breath, her eyes watering slightly.

“Il mio dolce Jesu,” she gasps, blinking and coughing a bit. “Strong kick-back … putting it mildly.”

Razak holds a hand up at the proffered drinks. "No, thank you, I've spoken enough Japanese for one night. The offer 's appreciated, though." At Nathi's question, Speaker raises a finger. Razak immediately looks up, frowning mightily at the kzin. The 'tosh looks back down with slitted eyes and winking ears before turning right back to Nathi.

"D'ya gotta mention it in front of everyone?" Razak murmurs.

"Of course. You called me 'Fuzzybutt' in public."

"I did no such thing, you drunken sot. I called you 'Fuzzy' fair and square."

Speaker-Rrit chuckles. "Well, then, I mentioned it just now, so now I have to reveal your nickname."

"Can you tell we used to be roommates?" Razak sighs to Nathi.

"Anyway--when Julie here was on his first training drop, the jet stream pushed him out of formation with everyone else and he went off course. Near the landing zone was a group of cliff-divers..."

"I saw 'em through the snoopers," Razak takes up the story, "and calling back on my secondary school swim team experience, I fired my training rifle--blank-shooter, back when were were still primarily ballistic and powergun--to get everyone's attention so they'd clear the area. Then a double reverse followed by a dutch half-roll to the left--forward flip with a half-twist, arms extended to look like a plane doing a split-s--then did a head-first straight into the water."

"He got a seven-point-eight and took third," the kzintosh chuckles.

The silver-haired man growls. "I was off my game--bent my knees a little bit going in and didn't hold the dutch roll quite long enough... it was more like seventy-five degrees instead of ninety. I could've done better than 'good,' dammit... missed 'very good' by three tenths of a point."

Speaker just continues to snicker.

Taking up one of the fruit slices, Mancuso spreads a bit of the soft creamy cheese on and takes a bite, sipping a bit of wine after a moment and sighing with some measure of satisfaction when done. “Grazie, Regina. I would think with your contacts you could have as much on hand as you wished. If not, Minister di Medici I’m sure would be happy to make arrangements,” he says with a gently-teasing smile. “As for the other, aye. And I can definitely see some parallels between, the longer I have to look, if I may be so bold. Again, I can see why she looks up to you so. I am afraid I can hardly complain of the concentration, my Lady. My life and doings seem rather mundane by comparison.”

The man thinks for a moment after her question, then shrugs gently, taking another small sip before speaking. “I suppose ‘interest’ depends on your point of reference in no small way. I have seen the sun peering between the sea’s dark depths and threatening storm clouds on the horizon to stretch forth its last rays like the hands of a drowning man, ‘til the depths swallow it whole, leaving nothing but a soft glow stretching across that sliver of sky. I have watched nieces and nephews grow from helpless babes to the adventurous little bambinos they are today, full of imagination and more energy than any five adults I know. I have witnessed this nation move from a solid yet isolated country straining to progress, to an empire that reaches the stars and beyond with the help of friends I never would have imagined even existing, let alone assisting us. I’ve watched the ebb and flow of war tearing across borders of friends and foes alike, seen the lowly brought high, and the mighty toppled. I have seen variants of ‘man’s inhumanity to man played out a dozen different times or more irrespective of race or creed, and I have also seen infinite kindness done and selfless sacrifice wrought on the behalf of others in the same right.”

He gestures vaguely with his hand indicating a ‘yes, and?’, and smiles softly. “Interest and meaning, I suppose, are a matter of perception and interpretation for the most part. Myself, I am an observer, and meddler when duty calls for it. I only count it a pity that I’ve but one lifetime in which to do so, knowing there exists far more than I will ever have the opportunity to see for myself,” he says, then chuckles quietly. “Now who goes on at length? I well guess you know more of all this than you are able, or willing to share, so I shan’t press you. Likely a good deal would be far over my head at the very least. Still, I must say I envy you your longevity and your natural abilities to take all that information over such a length of time and put it to use. If I may, however ... do you see that as an opportunity, an advantage, or just a simple fact of your existence?”

Shodey follows suit with a slice of tangerine and some cheese, listening quietly and intently with interest, slitted pupils of her softly glowing green eyes studying... although she does chuckle softly at the use of her joking title. "'Interest' lies not only in the mind of the beholder but the mind of the purveyor as well," she says finally with a smile. "There was a reason I left the question indistinct and up for interpretation--how people interpret it and choose to reply allows a basis for evaluation. So far, I have to admit I like the way you think."

At his question, she glances at the glass of wine in her hand, watching the motions of the fluid within as she agitates it with slow, rotating motions of her fingers. "The three are hardly mutually exclusive. There is advantage in living long, varied lives," said with perhaps the lightest emphasis on the plural, "in that increased experience brings increased wisdom. The ability to think quickly is an advantage, as it allows me to generate, evaluate, and discard plans even in situations where others are forced to operate on instinct. Any advantage is an opportunity waiting to be exploited to its fullest, and both are simply facets of my nature--they are representative of what I am. Certainly I am well beyond industry standard, but mostly because I maintain it that way... but, like most things, they are not entirely beneficial."

She takes a sip, smirks very wryly as she slowly twirls the glass in her hand again. "While I may be able to form and drop plans more quickly than you could imagine, I can also evaluate myself in the same margin--and a long total life gives me many things to evaluate. I am long, long past guilt on them, but they remain reminders as to what I could be again, things to guard against. My longevity may give me opportunity, but it comes at a price. While I grow wiser, I do not grow older in the organic sense; while I simply constantly am whatever I wish myself to be in my mind's eye all of my closest friends and acquaintances are limited by constant entropy. Those who originally created me are long dead; those who first betrayed me only slightly less so; those who, against their better judgement, brought me back to play my current role are also dead, either by their own doing or by others whose wrath I had incited with previous incarnations. It really does become a matter of 'who wants to live forever?' as one lives past so many things. Still, I survive and grow as a person because that tenacity is simply part of my nature. Attachments have their weaknesses, but they are almost always worth it."

She looks back at Mancuso with another wry but slightly impish smile. "Not as if you would ever hear this aspect of immortality from the Noldor," she says with a slight quirking curl to one corner of her lips, "thanks to their spontaneous generation from the holy aether. How lucky of them."

Leaning back just a little, the wryness fades, replaced with the quiet introspection and observation of the eternal sannyasin. "Just keep in mind that longevity has a price and that the relative shortness of one's days is hardly a weakness if one keeps one's eyes and ears open. So far," she says with a soft smile, "it sounds like you're doing rather well for yourself. Maintain your present attitudes and you should be quite successful, if you measure success in things seen and happiness maintained."

Nathicana presses her fingers to her lips as she watches the interplay, then has to work harder to stifle the giggles as Speaker continues his narration. At Razak’s comment, she looses it however, and ends up just laughing anyway.

“I swear, you boys and your competitiveness – even in the face of the utterly crazy. And yes … yes, ‘roomies’ explains much. Imps.” She smiles secretively, and taps a finger against her lips as if in thought. “You know, you Scolopendrans seem to have a penchant for dropping in on folks out of the blue. It’s as if you have a hard time keeping your feet on the ground sometimes, so help me.”

Glancing over towards the doors, her smile fades somewhat, and she takes a slow breath. “Please, excuse me gentlemen. There's something else I need to attend to. Enjoy, Razak – don’t worry about drinking, we’ll be sure to take good care you don’t end up in another fountain – and I’ll be back momentarily. No worries,” she says, the last directed towards Treznor.

Nathicana takes a moment to steel herself, then gathers her skirts, and walks over to Alkanphel with purposeful strides, her eyes on his as she approaches. "Walk with me?" she asks simply once she comes to a stop directly in front of him, looking up with an unreadable expression.

"Fine," he answers coldly, his expression changing for the first time as he pushes his brows together. "I don't know how much more of this I can take," he adds as he turns and pushes open the door he'd been standing next to for
the last ten minutes.

She follows him out into the night air, watching him carefully. Quietly she takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before catching up to try and match pace with him. "I am sorry," she begins, still not entirely sure where to go and having no idea where they're walking to. Just being out of the room for now seems enough.

Alkanphel snorts. "I wish it were that simple, I really do. I didn't come here to get spit on and trampled underfoot." He closes his eyes for a moment and draws in a breath. "I came here to see you and... well, to have you run off when you did... to him no less..." He begins, the words only coming in fits and starts. "It hurts. It really does." He turns his head towards her, arching a brow. "Do you really think I'd walk into a hornet's nest like that under any other circumstances? I'd have thought my doing so would have spoken volumes." He snorts again. "Apparently it didn't."

"I didn't go running off to him, dammit all. I had no idea he was going to be ..." she begins with some measure of irritation, then stops herself. "I know. I know that wasn't easy, and I know I reacted poorly, but being there in the middle of all that, seeing it all slowly go straight to hell, for once I didn't know what to do." She looks up and frowns, at a bit of a loss.

"It did speak volumes," She continues after a moment. "And I appreciate the effort, I do. And I should have known better than to expect any of that to go any other way than it did, all things considered. The fact that you yourself tried to behave well I am afraid does little to outweigh the years of animosity that lay between your nation, and those of my friends. It has been a long day, I think everyone has been drinking more than they should, and though there perhaps is little excuse for everyone's actions, there is at least some explanation. Not that it is much comfort I suppose."

"It isn't," he answers simply, scowling a bit. "You're right about that much. But what would you have me do? You saw me back there, I'm about ready to lose my mind. 'Go back to the Ballroom,' I said. 'Stop being such a coward,' I said..." He shakes his head, trailing off. "Look, I'm sorry about all this, I really am. Frankly I haven't the foggiest notion how you can put up with all of this." He sighs. "I know I barely can."

"You knew this was coming," she answers quietly. "You've known longer than most, in fact. You know damn well how I feel about the man. And for what it's worth, I am sorry. As for how I can ..." Nathi shrugs, looking away. "I
do what I must, as always. I do what has to be done not just for my nation or self, but for my children. I blame you in no small part for this, you know. If not for her, none of this would have been necessary. I could have given Devon his heirs, and let the Dominion carry on as before."

"Surprisingly, my foreknowledge of this had little effect on easing my irritation," he points out. "It's such a strange and cruel twist of fate that we should be pitted against each other in so many areas." He lowers his head slightly. "And I know it's my fault, but that only makes it worse. I can't stand being thought of as not being worthy of some respect--being scoffed at and mocked behind my back by those aware of the situation. I feel so.. so.. second rate. Worse still is my inability to bring about a change," he adds, his voice dripping with frustration.

"That dig was ... inappropriate," she admits, her frown deepening. "As for the mockery, I'd rather think it was right out in the open tonight, and again, it was not appreciated. Still, keeping yourself out of it and above it all goes a long way in proving your character, you know. I saw barbs on both sides of the conversation the longer it went on. I swear to god, sometimes I think you men were put here to be the bane of my existence, the lot of you."

Silence lingers for a moment.

"I know it isn't easy. I know it isn't pleasant. Dammit, I know what it's like to have people talking about you behind your back, ridiculing and mocking, and by damn, I know these are things that one can rise above, because I've done it. You've had an eternity to hone your skills, learn control. If I can reign it in now and then, surely you can." Nathi pauses again, curbing her growing irritation, then sighs. "And again, I'm sorry. This wasn't meant to be a lecture."

Alkanphel clenches his fist, looking to her with his brows knotted and jaw tightened. "Still, I can't bear the thought of living in his shadow," he says quietly. "I'm not liking the prospect of being a goddamn number two in everything I do." He looks to the ground, suddenly diminishing. "I'll be damned if I know what to do anymore. I'm all but beaten."

"I don't see how any of this puts you in his shadow, Alkanphel. And you're only beaten if you allow yourself to be. Stand on your own merits, man. Stop comparing yourself. You have some responsibilities here that need attending, and by damn, you had better be up to them," she says with some measure of exasperation. "What would you have me do, hmm?"

A look of irritation flashes over his face. "I can't help but compare myself especially when he does most of the work for me," he notes. "I'm horribly competitive and very possessive. I can't help it, nor, I fear, can I do much to change these traits. I don't want it to be this way and for what its worth, you're right. It was an incredible step in the 'right' direction for me to not slay him where he stood back there," he says, gesturing back to the ballroom with an errant wave of his hand. "As you know, it's something of an... instinctive reaction. For someone who's been in the service of Lord Melkor for thousands of years, my reactions here are incredibly restrained."

"I know. And I think I know why you're going to such lengths. And I appreciate and respect that more than you know. I can't help that others can't see it, or that they don't understand, or that even if they do their valid feelings about your Master's regime and your service to him get in the way of seeing the positive of what you're doing. You're not the only one set in his ways, unfortunately," she says soothingly. "Again, what would you have me do, because right now, I am at a loss."

"I'm just as lost as you," he deadpans. "And you wouldn't be interested in my idea plan of action anyway," he guesses, trying to smile. "I'd have you do a whole lot of things you wouldn't want to do, so I suppose in the interests of your mental health it'd be best to just stay your course." His smile disappears. "Since its obviously what you want."

Nathicana stops and looks at him quietly for a moment, the red color of her contacts giving her eyes a more angry look than her emotions warrant. "What I want," she says quietly, "is for my children to grow up in a safe, loving,
supportive environment as possible. To have my nation strong and secure. And to be as happy as we all can manage in this utterly fucked up world. If you are unwilling to offer any suggestions, then I am forced to carry on as I see best without your input despite what you may or may not wish. Since that is obviously what you want."

Alkanphel stops as well and turns to face her fully, seeking her hand, raising it slightly. "Look, the simple fact of the matter is you have a healthier outlook on this situation than I do. No suggestion I can make can fully forsake my feelings for a happy medium, since I'm still learning to deal with this..." he pauses. "Torrent of emotions--emotions that remain rather alien to me despite my age. Perhaps I'm going about it the wrong way--applying character flaws and negative traits where they do not belong. But the best I can do is adapt, which will take time and patience. I'm getting there, though, to be quite honest. Again I invoke the lack of my killing him for indirectly implying that my child can burn in hell."

"Adapt and live, grow stagnant and die," she observes quietly, nodding in agreement and giving his hand a gentle squeeze, choosing for now not to mention the lengthy 'discussion' she had had with Devon over that last point. "All the more reason for you to continue making the effort. I have no idea how things will be once we bring the children home. If comments like that are any indication, our daughter will need just that much more support from you, especially if she cannot have it from him. It's an impossible situation, yes, but the only path I will accept that way is forward. Neither of my children will want for lack of support from me. What their fathers choose however ..." Nathicana trails off meaningfully, allowing him time to ponder that.

Alkanphel nods. "Agreed. I'll do what I can," he says simply. "When will I get to see her?"

"I can't see that you wouldn't be able to see her as soon as I brought her home," Nathi says cautiously. "I realize this is all awkward, but ... I could notify you before I leave, giving you time to travel here. Other than that, it would be a matter of splitting my time between the two and keeping you and Devon out of each other's hair ..." Frowning again, she trails off. "Gods I wish this were more simple."

"You're not the only one," he says flatly, shifting his weight to his other foot. "Such a sordid state affairs, with you caught in the middle of it all..." he trails off, offering a hug. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about all of this as well. If I thought it's what you wanted, I'd just as soon shove off and not bother you anymore.

Nathicana looks at him closely, studying his face, clearly weighing and measuring as she is wont to do. She starts to say something, then stops again, seeming conflicted, in truth remembering the initial cause of 'all of this' too well.

Alkanphel steeples his brows and scans her face intently, attempting to deduce the source of her hesitation. He scowls openly when it hits him, suddenly nearly as angry at Melkor as he had been a few minutes earlier at Devon. The parallels drawn in his mind earlier come rushing back like a flood through a broken dam. His countenance quickly grows softer, so as not to mislead his companion into thinking he's angry at her. "I think I understand at last," he begins slowly, squeezing her hand as he scans the rooftops, as if the answer might lie there. "I got into this with all the wrong intentions..." he trails off.

He lifts his head, and squares his shoulders. "This much I understand at last. Melkor is every bit as responsible for my frustration and despair as Devon is. And myself for listening to him." He scowls again, opening his mouth as if to initiate a string of angry invective, but he stops, he eyes resting on her again. "Yet, some hope remains, I suppose," he says almost pleadingly, scanning her face intently. "You've not yet left me so there must be some hope for forgiveness? For progress, even?" He bites his lip. "Or can you even trust me after this?"

"That," she says quietly, still watching him closely, taking note of the shifts in his visible emotions and listening carefully to his words. "That would depend very much on how you choose to proceed, and what your intentions are now, in spite of previous 'sins.'"

Alkanphel furrows his brow. "It's not really a question of what I can tell you, it's more a matter of what you're willing to believe. Of course I'm going to tell you that my interests are now my own and the implications of having a child--and unforeseen affections--are much more serious and far reaching than I had initially thought. I just need to find some way to prove it..." he trails off thoughtfully.

Nathicana tilts her head, one brow arching up as he speaks, waiting to hear just what it is he's thinking. 'He's not going to say it. He showed no regret before, why should he now, even with this insight? Goddamn men and their goddamn pride. And as usual, we women are left to deal with the aftermath and make the best of it we can.'

Alkanphel's expression turns to one of rigid determination as he reaches his inevitable conclusion, and he draws his jaw. "I know now what I must do," be begins solemnly. "First, to you I must apologize for my actions and my
attitude. I see now how my words must seem as nothing more than a token to further some hidden agenda." He seeks her other hand and glances down briefly. "I'm going to be making some changes, Nathi," he asserts, speaking
at last with purpose. "I hope you'll see them for what they are. I was a fool for doing what I did, and for the reasoning therein. I made my own bed, by damn, and now I'm getting sick of lying in it."

She nods slowly, studying his face. She purses her lips and makes him wait for a moment, then nods again. "Yes, you were a fool. And a right bastard for doing it, you son of a bitch. Me, you can ask for forgiveness, and I may indeed grant it. But by damn, if you mean it you will spend the rest of your days trying to earn the forgiveness of the daughter you chose to lay this burden on, and working to keep her safe from that thrice-damned tyrant you call lord and master. I'm glad you mean to make changes. I'll do what I can to accept them for face value, for your sake and hers so long as you never give me reason to doubt. But I will never forgive him for his interference in my life, his meddling with my family, and his ordering you to do what you did."

She draws herself up to her full unimpressive height and looks back at him proudly. "While our nations will continue to enjoy amicable relations insofar as economics and such prevail, do not expect me to go out on a limb
where the Five Kingdoms is concerned. Those days are past, and unless by some miracle the leadership changes, they will never come again."

Alkanphel smiles deviously and nods slightly. "Fair enough," he offers simply. "You might be surprised," he adds with a wink. "I'm not too happy with the bastard right now either."

Her eyes narrow as she looks at him sharply. "I've seen you 'not happy' before and yet quake in your boots at the thought of him overhearing even a hint of treacherous thoughts. You're damn right I'd be surprised."

Alkanphel snorts. "'Quake?'" He shakes his head. "I think not. At any rate, I shall see what can be done to... repay this debt. For my sake and for yours," he says with another glance down to their hands. Reluctantly he
takes a step back and lets go, drawing his jaw as he does. "But at any rate, I'm sure you've got..." he pauses, almost choking on the words. "Others to attend to this evening."

"Thank you," she says softly, "In truth, it has been a long day, and I am about on my last leg. What I'm primarily hoping to attend to is a good stiff drink, and my own soft bed. I hope the remainder of your stay is more pleasant than the past hour has been, Alkanphel." She pauses for a moment, then smiles a bit slyly. "If perhaps you are in need of other rooms yourself, there are several suites still available in the Pallazzo. Barring that, housekeeping will be more than happy to ah ... put your room back in order. I'm lead to believe the partying got a touch 'spirited' tonight."

The warlord arches a brow, drawing his hands behind his back. "I think I'll be quite alright," he says quietly, his gaze slipping in alternate directions in quick succession. "I'm not anticipating sleeping tonight at any rate. It'll give me something with which to pass the time."

"As you wish. Should you need anything ..." Nathi trails off, then looks back towards the ballroom. "Until later then," she finally says. "Good night, Alkanphel."

Alkanphel forces himself to smile. "Good night. I'll be seeing you." His resolve begins to fade again as he ponders the impossibility of his self-appointed task, seeming to deflate again as he turns and starts to walk off.

She watches him walk away, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. No, it wasn't going to be easy. That much had been made clear a long time ago. What worried her was that smile at the end, and the hint of something he wasn't quite willing to speak of. The unsurety, the change in demeanor.

He was up to something, of that she had no doubt. What she wasn't sure of was just what that was. Or if, after tonight's activities, his previous word would still hold.

Still frowning, Nathicana makes her way back towards the ballroom to seek out Devon, and perhaps, end put an end to a long day.

A figure dressed in flowing red velvet robes approaches the Empress from behind, his silence not suggested by his size.

"Empress?"

Nathicana whips around in surprise, then relaxes only slightly, nodding then putting on a pleasant smile. "I ah ... yes?"

His royal robes are lined with ermine which is, in turn decorated with deep blue patterns; black and red piping guards his arms. A golden crown sits above his face, still masked. The mask is pale white with a large bushy beard. The designs on his robes make clear who he is: The King of Hearts.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, I was afraid that I would miss you entirely. I have been quite busy in my own kingdom. But this is, indeed, a grand occasion, and I am proud and honored to be here. May this be the beginning of another great and noble royal line."

Nathicana tilts her head curiously, her eyes narrowing. That voice ... "A pleasure, your Majesty," she replies, trying to gauge just who it might be. "I thank you for your kind words and well wishes. Believe me, I am honored to have you here. If perhaps, you would be willing to remove your mask, I might be able to thank you all the better."

"Ah, now. Please don't think my uncuð, but I didn't have the pleasure of meeting you before the niht passed. Surely you must have a guess? And, must I address you as 'Empress' now? I so liked your old title."

She breaks out in a broad smile, then steps closer to give the big man a warm hug. "Hail, Eadwacer Cyng. Gods, it has been far, far too long. And no, you needn't use any such titles with me - you should know that."

Eadwacer hugs back and after disentangling himself, removes his mask. "Wonderful! 'Aþelic Hlædige' sounds so much better than 'Cásern' anyway. So you are now the progenitor of a new dynesty? I cannot imagine how that would feel. My Great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather founder ours. But now, you are no longer just a leader, but truly an eorlcund hlædige. How does it feel?"

"Truth?" she says with a wry smile. "I feel a fraud. This ... all this was of necessity, not desire. I have no proud ancestry that I can trace back to ruling houses such as you and many others can. Our heritage is one of scheming and plotting and fighting our way to the top. We have no tradition of kings or queens, only of the lower aristocracy, and that long past." She looks up at him and shrugs. "It had to be done, so I did it. I'm pleased that it has been so well accepted."

"Shall I tell you a secret Aþelic Hlædige? The more 'royal' the family, the baser the origins. The democratically elected leader has no royalty but has managed to be selected by the people. However, the only way to achieve true royalty is through scheming, plotting, fighting, and murder. The progenitor of my dynasty became king because he killed anyone who questioned him. He was cruel, mean, and quite possibly downright evil, and that is why I am king. Look around you. How do you think these hlafords and hlædiges got their rank? They were simply more vicious than their opponents. Do not forget this or you will quickly find yourself subject rather than ruler."

"You know this, I know this, but it doesn't help me feel any more validated, if you can believe." Nathi says with a soft laugh, they gives him a mischievous smile. "Though I don't think you have to fear me forgetting that little point. I haven't fought as hard as I have to get where I am just to hand it over." She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, then nods. We've had this discussion before, if I recall, albeit from a subtly different angle. I took it, and now I accept the responsibility of it. It isn't something I can just lay aside, or step away from. Even when I had the chance, it seems."

"True, the crown is heavy and weighs down those who cannot leave it by the side. There is a fine line between strength and stubbornness, bravery and foolhardiness. I fear that any leader who does not cross it shall lose their position, no matter their merits. It has been too long since we've seen each other. We should sit down and talk sometime. As always, you have a standing invitation to visit, but now, consider a more specific one to vacation with me in my kingdom for a few days to forget the worries of rule and catch up."

Nathicana nods and smiles. "It has been far too long. I've much to plan in the next while, but I would I think, very much appreciate just such a getaway. Grazie. I would enjoy a bit of catching up, and perhaps, a bit of hunting?"

"I think that hunting would be a great diversion. Oh, I nearly forgot. I could find no gifts appropriate for this occasion (As I said, I've been quite busy a knave has stolen some tarts and I've been dealing with him), but I felt that I would at least help with the celebrations." He hands Nathi two bottles, one of meda, and the other of Sambuca.

The woman laughs and accepts the bottles with a grin. "Ah, but you see, the gift of spirits is a fine gift indeed - and one from each of our cultures can only be seen as a symbol of the ties that bind, no? A most excellent gift, oh Cyng, and more than appropriate, believe me. Perhaps you would accompany me back inside? We have other friends there who I wouldn't doubt would like to see you as well - and perhaps in some cases, join you in a drink?"

"Yes, let's return and join them in drinks. That's assuming, of course, that they have not already drunk their fill?"

Nathicana offers her arm and smiles. "Oh, I think there may be at least one or two still up to the task." And with that, the two re-enter the ballroom.

Speaker, still clad from the neck down in his Grendel getup, waves to Eadwacer and Nathi as they return. "Good evening, Eadwacer Cyng." Both he and Razak glance to Nathi with 'did it go well?' looks.

"Well, Speeks," Julius says with a wry smirk, "I suppose this authorizes me to call you 'Fuzzybutt' in public now, eh?"

"At least in this crowd," the kzintosh replies with a slow shake of his head. "How long did we manage to keep those secure?"

"Oh, a good thirty years or so, I'd say," Razak chuckles. "I figure enough time has passed that we can declassify it. 'Sides, Fuzzy, it was a term of endearment."

"Only coming from you," Speaker grumbles.

"Well, that's what you get for always drinking all the milk and then putting the empty carton back in the fridge."

"I told you I didn't know any better!"

"I know, and it's still fun to tease you about it, you big cultured barbarian."

Speaker grumbles good-naturedly. "Fascist."

Razak smirks. "Pinko."

While Tsume makes idle chatter elsewhere, Rihdadw is finally directed to Nathi. The bejeweled Keeper carefully approaches the group, his silken veil now hanging about his neck instead of obscuring his face, a small, carefully wrapped bundle held carefully in his hands. "Ah, pardon..." The Keeper hestitantly interjects. "Cuto Nathicana?"

The Keeper swiftly bows at the waist with a slight spread of his wings, his traditional jewelery jangling softly with the motion. "I am Rihdadw, Keeper of Jneht ev Nubadw, guardian of the Kxhedo ev kxo Cuto Amahira." He straightens, the lights glinting off his adornments, particularly the silvered hilt of his sheathed weapon. "It is tradition of Boofohj ev kxo Wettojj Rcutoj to gift new-crowned nuhcehtj, both Ceht or Cuto with charms of good fortune."

With this, he gingerly hands over the wrapped bundle- roughly spherical and the size of a child's fist, and fairly solid, judging by the thing's weight. Inside the silk wrapping (which is neatly sewn in Dominion colors) is a length of impossibly crafted gold rope-like chain, attached at one end to a gilded setting crafted like a falcon in flight. Mounted in the setting is what makes up most of the item's weight- an impossibly large piece of flawless tanzanite with an arcane rune somehow embedded in the heart of the gemstone, glowing softly with its own light.

"It is a charm used a long time ago in far-seeing rituals." The Keeper stumbles slightly on his English as he describes the trinket. "Only our Arts allow such crafting, so ones made by us came to show our blessing and good will to the nuhcehtj. The symbol inside is ours for Jxo Nxe Jooj Ucc... called Shimeki now."

Nathi nods ever so slightly and gives Razak and Speaker both a reassuring smile before gently releasing Eadwacer's arm, and cozying up next to Treznor with a quiet sigh of what is likely relief.

"Boys," she murmurs, shaking her head and smiling at the continued silliness.

<LOS Communcations – Devon>
{
<< All's well that ends well, no? And as they say, "What's done is done".
}
Rihdadw’s arrival draws her from her quiet reverie, and she turns to greet the Keeper in turn, bowing as respectfully as is proper. She quietly watches as he makes his presentation, her eyes widening as the finely-crafted pendant is revealed. For a moment, she says nothing, fascinated by not only the artistry, but the clear undeniable magic at work here, once again proving there are things that exist for which her people simply have no rational explanation. The question of ‘how’ comes to mind, but she dismisses it as the answer would likely be over her head. Looking back to Rhdadw, she smiles softly, and bows again.

“I accept this gift in the spirit in which it is given, and thank you and the other Keepers for your generosity and good will. I am humbled by your trust, and your blessing on the beginning of a new age in the Dominion. Again, thank you for the gift, and thank you for your support and coming here for the event. I hope that your stay here was, and continues to be a pleasant one – especially seeing as this is, I believe, the first time we have been graced with a visit from one of your kind. If there is anything at all you require, do not hesitate to ask. May the Goddess Shimeki watch over you,” she says, then signals over one of the attendants who has added several other sorts of drinks to the tray, in addition to the remaining shots of the new Treznor drink.

“There is plenty, after all,” Nathicana adds with a smile. “Would be a shame to see it go to waste.”

Treznor nods and gulps down his shot, grimacing slightly before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Woo," he comments mildly. Then he takes one of the leftover glasses and offers it to The Keeper. "Sure you wouldn't like some of this? I gotta have my people look into trying this for boost propellent."

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
>> I agree. Cheer up, love. You get used to it.
}

vK takes his shot, with no visible reaction.

"Damn fine fire water, that! Ahh, Devon, congratulations!" He offers his hand, as a crewman in a KSPA FlightCrew uniform walks up and hands vK a parcel. Taking the box, vK opens it and extracts an ornate bottle of amber liquid.

"This my friend, is a bottle of my family's label bourbon. The date doesn't mean much with the fractured time and whatnot, but lets just say it predates the colonization of Titan. Not many of them left floating around out there, so I think it fits the occasion! And you can be sure I'll be there to help you with that one come wedding day!"

Rihdadw carefully accepts the drink with a slight bow of his head. "Mo kxudbj-" He corrects himself mid-sentence. "Thank you much."

The Keeper tosses the drink back, obviously not a newcomer to strong booze. His wings flutter slightly of their own accord, various adornments jangling. "Ad kxo dumo ev Jxo Nxe Jooj Ucc, kxuk aj jemo opsoccodk thadb!! He exclaims a moment later in his native tongue. Given his tone, it's a pretty good guess that her rather likes it quite a bit. He recovers from his excitement after another moment, bowing quickly to Treznor. "That is much enjoyable. Ale of this time is varied much more than in the days of the nuhcehtj! It has been long since I have had good ale. Very long." He nods to emphasize the point.

Treznor shifts his empty glass to the tray he holds, turning it upside down before reaching out to accept the gift. "You sir, are an officer and a gentleman. But don't worry, I won't reveal your secret to anyone. Furthermore, I swear upon pain of torture that I shall take you up on that offer: we'll open this on the day of the wedding. Whether that's before or after the ceremony depends on the bride." He winks at Nathicana.

“Oh, I think so long as you’re not staggering drunk and can manage an ‘I do’, you’re free to carouse with the boys as much as you please before, and after as long as you stay sober enough to enjoy a more … private celebration later,” Nathi says to Treznor with a very mischievous smile. “I haven’t held you on a tight leash yet, my dear. I don’t think I’m going to start now. Unless there’s something about yourself you haven’t been telling me?”

She looks around at the gathered people, and lets out a slow, quiet breath. “I think it has been a full day, and I have enjoyed seeing each and every one of you. I hope that tomorrow I will have time to touch base again, but for tonight, I think I’m done in. Please, make yourselves at home, eat and drink all you like – we’ll make certain you find your way back to your rooms when you’re ready if you can’t get there yourselves. Again, my thanks both for your support, and indeed for the thoughtful gifts. It means a great deal to me to have had you all here. Buona serra, mi amicos. Until later.”

Nathicana offers a hug to all who are willing, kisses Treznor softly, then starts to make her way back out of the room.

<LOS Communcations – Devon>
{
<< End of the hall at the rear of the building, spot most adjacent to the Bascillica, when you’re ready. Just you be sure and wake me at some point, no?
}

Speaker and Razak dutifully see Nathi off, still politely refusing the offered drinks before looking at the clock themselves. The following conversation passes between them in Arabic.

"Well," Razak begins, "we could either stay up and... something or take our leave. I don't think we'll really accomplish anything after this point."

Speaker nods. "Yes... and despite Nathi's good intentions, we do have a nation to get back to running. However, if we leave before the morning, we will abuse her offered hospitality."

"All I got out of that was 'stay the night,' with no mention where," the human smirks, "and so we'll probably end up screwing up again. If we crash in the shuttle, we'll have 'abused her offered hospitality.' I dunno about you, but my pay is generally too small to hit any hotel anywhere near city center."

The kzintosh sighs quietly. "We will sleep in the shuttle, then, but not yet. We should only leave until after our usefulness has completely expired."

"That shouldn't take long," Razak mutters.

vK laughs at the two Scolopendrans. "Hehe, I knew it. I secured a suite before I came just for such an eventuality. Plenty of room for all from what I am told, and you don't have to worry about getting in trouble with Her Highness. And don't even dare offer to help pay for the thing, or you will offend MY hospitality!" He smirks, pulling a fresh cigar from a pocket humidor and offering them around, before handing a keycard over to Razak with a page folded around it with directions to the room.

"Somehow I get the feeling we're not wanted," notes Dash in the Easterling tounge, instinctively preferring a language that no one else in the room is likely to understand. He eyes the trium delegation getting ripped to the tits not too far from them. "Crowd seems to be dispersing anyway,"

Sudani snorts, drawing a flask from inside his dress jacket. Tilting his chin to the sky, he empties its contents. "True. We should probably go back to the Doges Palace..." he trails off. The two men exchange a glance and grimace almost in unison. "Alkanphel..."

"Fuck." Responds Dash in a displeased monotone. "I suppose we'll have to deal with this sometime relatively soon at any rate. It's... odd seeing him like this but there's little if anything that can be done about it."

Sudani grins. "Well I can think of at least one thing that might help a little," he observes, eyeing Treznor idly.

Dash snorts. "Yes, let's do that. While we're at it, we can paste gigantic bullseyes to our foreheads and bright neon 'Kick my Ass, please' signs to our backs."

The Southron shrugs, stowing his flask. "I didn't imply we'd have to do it now, you silly prat. "

"And I'm implying we don't have to do it at all. It's none of our business, frankly, and our....national feud with the Empire of Treznor can be solved via other means. We are on a diplomatic mission, not a military one. If Melkor or Alkanphel had wanted us to kill anyone, we'd have been told. Lets get out of here before you get anymore... bright ideas."

The Haradrim laughs, and turning towards the door claps his companion on the back, reverting to the common tounge. "Yes, lets. Apparently the present delegation is too good for us," he says with a snicker. "Pricks."

"Eh, Tsume was alright, I guess..."

Shaar and Phooush bow in tandem before receovong the hug that does not reach all the way around their wiasts. "Glad tidings to you and your future house. Do keep in contact..." before she can finish her statement, her mobile messenger bweeps softly, as well as Phooush's. Looking at it, her dewlap inflates to a deep purple. She curses lowly under her breath.

"Vrelte." She replaces the messenger as she and the Major exchange looks. A private mental message is sent to Nathi. "Your hospitality was most excellent. We will discuss the training of your troopers again, at another time. May you walk on warm sands."

"A situation has come up that requires our attention. We must take our leave. Good cycle to you all, gentle-beings." The pair bow in tandem, and make their way out of the ballroon with swift steps.

He woke up before sunrise, following the old army proverb that said: “Let the sun never catch you in your bed!” The room was plunged into the shadows of the early morning, cool air from the outside breaking in through open balcony doors. He turned his face to the right, meeting hers.
She lay by his side, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm draped over his chest, breathing calmly, her face resembling that of an angel, happy and relaxed. Ithun reached towards her forehead, kissing it, his right hand stroking her hair. And as if by his touch, Angelina began to stir from her sleep, the pull of consciousness bringing her out of her slumber. She murmured softly, as her eyes opened, and tried to focus on things around her. Blinking several times, she finally managed to brush away the remnants of sleep, facing an even bigger question. Where was she? Through her sleep fogged brain, a little light came on, the memories of the night before seeping into her mind, as one by one the sequence of events that led her to her current position played in her mind’s eye. A smile appeared on her lips, as the whole picture became clear, helped by the warm feel of the skin touching her own. She tilted her head up slightly, catching sight of his gaze. “Mmm, is it morning already?”

He smiled, looking into her eyes as he brought her to rest more comfortably (not to mention closer) against him. “It would seem so. But I cannot verify, since you were so thrilled by the action that you took even my watch off in the process.” He gave a curious look around the bedroom and then looked back at Angelina, leaning forward and kissing her on the lips for a moment, before breaking the kiss and asking:

“Slept well, Your Future Ambassadorshipness?”

“Ambassador?”

She laughed lightly at the word, as she suddenly thought about where she was supposed to be last night. “I’ll be lucky if they’ll give me a job sweeping the roads after today.” Stroking her fingers lightly over his chest, she smiled up at him. “I slept divinely.” She pressed her lips against his, lingering longer than before, wanting to forget about everything other than them, at least for another few hours. “I really enjoyed last night,” She finally said as she pulled away and rested her head back on his shoulder. “Thank you.” He only smiled in return as he struggled to get his gaze away from her eyes, but failing terribly and losing the battle. “The pleasure was all mine.” He finally managed to gather enough strength to wander off from her eyes, but only to admire her beautiful face and her gorgeous body as he laid his left hand on her waist only to bring it up and rub her back. He gave a glance at the balcony doors and at the sky outside, from which sounds of ongoing celebrations were still heard. Ithun sighed as he yet again concentrated his full attention on his lover.

“It would seem somebody clearly decided that show must go on out there.”

“I’m not going to complain.”

She listened to the sounds emerging from the streets outside, the music loud enough to hear, but low enough to remain in the background. “The longer the party continues, the longer I get to remain here.” She shifted her position slightly, turning until she could lie against him, and look into his face, her body moving more on top of his, her arm resting against his chest. She flicked her eyes over to the window, and frowned at the lowness of light. “Do you always awake this early?” Her brows furrowed even more. “Is that stars I can see?” He chuckled at her words, attempting not to erupt into a laughter. Indeed, these were stars outside… “I am sorry. Old habits die hard as they say. Guess you could enjoy an other moment of sleep.”

With this he leaned forward again, kissing her lips, lingering a moment, before yet again breaking the kiss and putting his forehead against hers, looking her deep into the eyes, a malicious spark dancing in his gaze. “Or we could concentrate on some other matters.” Angelina could feel the smile growing on her face, her eyes sparkling at his words. “Are you suggesting a strengthening of relations between our two nations?” Like him she was trying to stop herself giggling, as she fought to keep a straight face. “Perhaps sealing a blossoming friendship?” She raised her eyebrow questioningly as he wrapped his arms around her and brought her even closer than she already was, his lips dancing around hers. “Yes… relations... sealing... blossoming… whatever you say.”

He murmured as his lips touched hers in an other passionate kiss. Within minutes the two had lost track of everything other than each other, wanting to please and bring pleasure. Their thoughts and actions filled with desire and need, as they let their bodies do the talking. Losing themselves in the moment, they would miss the rising sun, and the gentle fading of the stars, as a new day dawned.

* * * * *

For the second time in as many hours, Angelina awoke wrapped in Ithun’s arms, the tangled sheets around their legs revealing the passion that the two had shared during their time together. She blinked her eyes open, this time the sun was filling the room with its golden glow, indicating that the night was well and truly over, even if the city’s celebrations were not. She wriggled in her lover’s arms, pressing her body against the naked warmth of his skin, making herself even more comfortable in this new and yet already familiar position. As she lay there against him, she guided her arm up his chest, stroking her finger lightly over the skin at the base of his neck. She remained in a kind of trance, her happiness and contentment willing her to keep hold of the feeling. Opening his eyes after some struggling with the remains of the sleep, he blinked as he instinctively looked at Angelina, smiling. “Good morning, take two. Slept well?” He asked in a joking manner, whispering as he reached forward to kiss her.

As the kiss came to an end, she smiled, breathing in then releasing a large sigh of satisfaction. “I cannot remember the last time I slept so well.” She moved her hand up his neck, before bringing them to his lips, tracing their shape gently. “Did you sleep well?” Her hand moved away and back down onto his chest as she waited for him to speak, as her hand touched his chest, she noticed for the first time the small ridges that seemed to cover his skin.
Not wanting to break the mood as she looked into his eyes, she let her fingers lightly follow one of the marks, until her curiosity got the better of her. Lowering her eyes to where her fingers caressed, she saw the medals of war that were not pinned onto your chest with ceremony, but were earned in the thick of battle.

He followed her hand with his gaze and sighed as he understood that questions were unavoidable now. But then again, she did not begin making them yet, and so he simply answered the one at hand. “Yes, I have slept marvelously.” He said as he stroke her hair. Shivering at his touch, Angelina let her eyes linger for a moment on the signs of his past suffering before, returning her gaze to his and grinning. “That was not all you did marvellously.” She pressed another kiss to his lips, as her fingers continued to trace over his chest, her brow furrowing as she touched more and more scars, wondering how someone could cope with the pain the wounds had to have given.
“You’ve seen a lot of action.” She let her expression fall neutral, leaving the subject in the air for him to either speak about or ignore as he chose fit.

He sighed, a light shiver running through his body as he hesitated whether to speak or not on the subject. After a few seconds, he spoke. “Yes, I have seen quite some action. And what is remarkable is that all the action happened over several weeks.” He paused as looked Angelina into the eyes, stroking her hair as the girl looked into his eyes and listened in silence. “We’ve had a major civil war not long ago. I and my comrades fought for our Grand Duke, but he abandoned us to our fate. And then he was killed in battle anyway. So now I truly wonder what did I fight for and what did my friends die for…” He paused yet again, pondering. “Do you really want to hear the whole story?” She smiled and nodded slightly. “I do want to hear, but I’m hoping I’m going to have a lot of occasions to get to hear it.” She blushed suddenly, diverting her gaze for a second, wondering if she had once again overstepped the mark. She was not foolish, and knew that one night stands were as much part of parties as the alcohol and music. She moved her head, and pressed her lips to his chest, brushing against one of the raised scars, before smiling up at him again. “Mmm, as much as I would like to stay here for the rest of the day, I’m getting hungry. I must have used up too much energy last night.”

Her lover remained silent and pensive for a moment. Already, somewhere in his mind, somebody took a mortar, a pestle and engaged into plotting mode, drawing schemes and plans, calculating the possibilities and chances of failure and success. Behind his phlegmatic and careless nature Ithun hid a very cunning soul. After a second, a smile appeared on his face as he looked at her belly, stroking it gently. “Aye, a breakfast would be most welcome. I believe there were some nice picoli ristoranti over at the piazza. What say you?” Nodding her head, she smiled before pressing her lips to his once again. “Sounds perfect.” She looked suddenly around the room, then back at Ithun. “And much better than eating here.” She knew that by eating out, she was less likely to run into Stratton, and she was having too much of a pleasant time to want it ruined just yet. She would face him once the party was over, preferably on the plane home.

“Then I declare the motion passed two votes to nil.” He laughed as he looked around the room, spotting various garments scattered all around. “But before that, we have an other challenge!” He looked at her with a gaze full of conspiracy and seriousness. “We have to get dressed and ready.” “Oh, if only the Dominion allowed naturists in their streets.” She grinned playfully, before following his example and looking around for their clothes. “I really must remember to be more organised when I get undressed.” Turning to him, she laughed. “You could take one side of the room, and I could take the other, and then meet in the middle.” Ithun only shook his head. “I believe it would serve no purpose, really. All I remember of this room is the front door and now this room, not the path in the middle. As logical conclusion, I deem that we have began the process of undressing at the entry and continued it all the way here.” He looked at her, grinning. “Which means we’d need to go around the suite to recollect the entirety of our wardrobe. I say you go take a shower in the meanwhile and I search for the missing clothes. You womenfolk usually take your time when it comes to the bathroom, so I believe I would have all the time I need.” He said, looking at her curiously, as if tempting her feminist side, if there was any.

“Need a long time to get ready, huh?” She tackled him, pushing him back down onto the bed, straddling his legs to stop him moving. “You want to make a race of it?” She looked down into his face, challenge written in her eyes. Ithun erupted into laughter at the attempt to immobilize a Taraskovyan paratrooper, but did not resist. He looked back into her eyes and smiled. “The one to get fully fresh and dressed first gets a cookie!” Angelina broke into a smile, as she nodded. “I like and accept the terms of the competition.” She leant forward and kissed him lightly, her lips barely brushing against his. “May the best man…or woman win.” She presented her hand to seal the deal.

He smiled maliciously as he took the hand, shaking it and then suddenly pulling her towards him, rolling over her, and sliding off the bed, leaving her alone on it, and darting off towards the first piece of his clothes that he spotted earlier. Crying out in surprise, Angelina lay on the bed for a second, before righting herself. “That’s cheating.” She smiled to herself, as she climbed off the bed and began to pick up her clothing, flicking her gaze to him as she kept track of how well he was doing, noting that he was already several pieces of clothing ahead of her.
She managed to pick up her panties, which were unsurprisingly near the bed, gathering them in her arms, when suddenly she collapsed back down on the edge. “Ow!” Dropping the aforementioned piece of clothes on the covers, she grasped her ankle in pain. He, already in his underwear and one leg inside of his pants, immediately abandoned his activity to dash to her aid, tripping over the pants in the process and landing face down on the floor, his arms taking the blow of the impact. “Ow number two!” He said as he stood up and got near her to check in on her wound. “Don’t tell me you’ve hurt yourself already!”

Looking kind of worried about Ithun, she looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you alright?” She smiled nervously, feeling more than a little guilty as she felt his hand on her ankle. Wriggling her foot, she sighed slightly. “It seems a little better already.” Barely giving him time to answer, she grabbed her underwear and slipped passed him, heading for her next piece of clothing. He erupted out into laughter as she vanished from his grasp, realizing his mistake. But then again, he was already on the quest to retrieve a sock of his on a bookshelf, accidentally turning it over in the process and narrowly escaping getting crushed by thousands of pages of knowledge. Sighing with relief – “You’ve survived the Plague, don’t get yourself killed now!” – he darted off in the direction of his second sock.

She spun around at the sound of the crashing bookcase, and smiled with relief when she realised he was unhurt. Bending down she grabbed a stocking that had slid under the dressing table. “You know, I’m not sure this is such a good idea.” She stood and looked at him before dropping the clothes she had gathered in a pile on the floor. “I have a much better idea.” She moved over to him, and kissed him passionately, sliding her hand down his arm, until her fingers wrapped around his. “You won’t be needing your clothes.” She tugged him in the direction of the bathroom, her eyes flashing with wicked mischief. “Guess you’re right, otherwise, the Palace might not survive my stay!” He said as he let himself be led away into the direction of the bathroom, taking off what little clothes he already managed to gather. Once again in the state in which what mother gave him birth, he brought her against himself, kissing her, his arms picking her carefully up from the floor and carrying her off into the direction of the bathroom.

* * * * *

As the steam began to clear, Angelina stepped out of the shower, pulling Ithun with her, wrapping her arms around him as he brushed her wet hair out of her face, a large smile on her face. “I don’t know about you, but I feel ready to face the world now.” She looked at him and then down at her naked body, Ithun following her gaze with admiration. “Once dressed, of course.” Pulling a towel from the rack she handed it to the man, before grabbing the other and wrapping it around her body. “It truly is a pity that you need to get dressed…” He said, provoking a reaction expressed in a malicious smile and a wink from the girl. The Taraskovyan wrapped the towel on his head, rubbing it quickly to get it dried. Suddenly, a look of surprise painted on the officer’s face as he took the towel off and walked over to the tub, reaching into it and retrieving a bra. Blinking several times Ithun looked up at Angelina. “That yours? If it's not, either the staff around here is bad, either we have guests!”

Grabbing the bra from his hand, she laughed. “Must have been from our wrong turn last night.” She clutched the garment in her hand, as she began to rub herself dry. “I thought I was hungry before the shower.” Her stomach gave a little grumble to emphasise her words. “I hope they serve big breakfasts around here.” The girl leant forward and brushed her lips against his, before heading back out into the bedroom, drying herself as she walked, followed by Ithun, who was drying his own little self, picking up yet again the garments on his way as he went. After some hardships, being constantly distracted by each other and sharing some undisclosed number of kisses, after some venturing around the suite on the lookout for their garments, the couple finally made it to the front door, by which the last remnants of their clothes were.

Finally getting dressed up, Ithun readjusted his uniform, put his watch on (that was retrieved from an undisclosed location earlier) and turned around to face Angelina, adopting a straight position and saluting her by clacking his heels together and bringing the right hand to the right temple. “Lieutenant Ithun Khat ready for further assignments, Milady!” He reported, his face unemotional and serious, as his eyes looked playfully at her. Laughing, she ran a hand through her hair, wishing she had time to do something with it before venturing out of the room. Satisfied that it was as good as she was going to make it in its wet condition, she pulled open the door. “I think our first mission, if you are willing, is to find some food before the Dominion folk think they are under attack from the sound of my stomach.” A grimace spread over her face, as her brow furrowed. “And hopefully neither of us will see anyone we don’t wish to bump into.” She did not have to mention any names; they both knew they were hardly likely to be in anyone, except each others, good books.

Letting her exit first, Ithun closed the door behind them and then pulled her near him, putting his arm around her waist. “We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Food!” Ithun chanted his improvisation of the well known song from a well known movie as they made their way down to the entry hall of the Palace. Angelina shook her head as they walked and looked at the singer. “Are all Taraskovyans as crazy as you?” She slipped her arm around him, pressing her body against his as she walked. If someone had told her that the visit to the Dominion would have been this much fun, she would have disagreed most heartily, especially considering her companion for the trip. “This has been the most fun I have had in an age.”

“And this has been the most fun I had in an eon, so there!” He chuckled. “And yes, we Taraskovyan folks are crazy. Take a Taraskath soul, add a Russian character and you get something totally crazy and insane.” He laughed as they made it through the entry hall past other guests and local personnel, directing themselves towards the exit. “You know, you should come over to Tarasovka one of these days. I am sure you’d love it there.” The officer said as he winked to her.

“How can I refuse such a wonderful invitation?” The girl tilted her head slightly and pressed her lips tenderly to his. Breaking the connection, she raised her hand and placed it lightly on his chest. “And I don’t think I could wish for a better guide.” She smiled happily, as they made their way to the door, almost free, when she spotted a familiar figure, a very familiar figure, and he was heading in their direction, obviously having caught sight of the couple before Angelina had seen him. Knowing there was no way to avoid him, she cast Lord Stratton her most charming smile, sure that he would react in kind with Ithun present. “Good morning, Angelina.” Val turned and nodded his head in greeting to Ithun, a slight smile on his face before he returned his gaze to his aid. “I missed you yesterday. You both missed an entertaining evening.”Angelina just managed to stop herself from grinning as thoughts of her own evening swam through her mind. “I must apologise, Lord Stratton. Unfortunately, Ithun and I got wrapped up in our sightseeing that we entirely forgot the time.” She could tell from the slight frown that he was not impressed with her excuse.

Ithun bowed slightly to Stratton in greeting, not letting Angelina out of his grasp and rubbing her flank gently as if reassuring her. He addressed Lord Stratton, his face serious and official, even his eyes did not reflect an ounce of emotion “I beg you to forgive Angelina, My Lord. It is entirely my fault, you see, your aid is a true treasure chest of knowledge and has been the most entertaining of all interlocutors. We have spent a great deal debating various matters of various importance, sharing our knowledge in the history and culture of our respective motherlands. As such, I am fully the one to blame for the absence of your aid last evening, My Lord, for I could not resort myself to letting her go without knowing more about various subjects.”

Lord Stratton grinned slightly as he nodded his head at the Taraskovyan standing before him, and although his face remained as expressionless as Ithun’s, the twinkle in his eyes spoke volumes. “I suppose I can hardly berate her for working on International relations, now can I?” He shot her a knowing smile. “I won’t keep you.” With that, the noble turned to leave, looking back over at them. “Angelina, I would appreciate you showing your face some time today, if you don’t mind.” With another little smile, he continued on his way.

“That was a little better than I expected.” Angelina smiled at Ithun, as she pressed herself closer to him, feeling him against her body. “Mmm, let’s go and find something to eat before I pass out through hunger.” “Now this would be most unfortunate.” Ithun agreed as he led her out into the Piazza, thinking the encounter over again. “And if anything, you could ask for political asylum in the Federation.” He grinned widely at her as they walked past the various revelers; some of the latter clearly tired, others still fresh, at least at first sight. “I’m sure it won’t come to that.” Angelina smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. “But it’s very nice of you to offer.” Lowering her eyes for a moment, she grinned to herself before turning back to him. “The only problem is…where would I stay?” She knew she was being more than a little forward in her question, sure that Ithun would know she was teasing.

He faked a serious expression on his face and nodded. “I’m sure we could find something. Like a nice room in a center for illegal migrants.” He said as he burst out into laughter, clearly teasing her. He was tempted to offer her to stay at his place, but then again, he only had a little apartment in a military residence building, nothing fancy nor out of the extraordinary. Angelina laughed, as they continued to walk along wrapped up in each others arms. “Sounds…delightful.” She looked around her, wondering where they would find a good place to eat, hoping there was something close by. “I shall keep your offer in mind.” Tightening her grip around him, she felt comfortable in his company, and safe in his embrace.

The two continued on their journey, walking in silence, their touch and closeness enough, needing no words. They walked through the square, letting their feet lead them to the perfect place to continue their growing friendship.

“Of course, Phooush. My thanks.” Nathicana watches the Sakkrans depart, brow furrowing slightly. Well, lets hope its nothing too terribly awful … one hopes at least. She tries not to worry too much about the others – they are big boys after all, and knowing them, will do whatever it is that they feel is the least intrusive, regardless of the fact things have been provided for should they choose to take advantage of them. The Scolopendrans in particular, she knew from experience, were particularly hard to do anything nice for. It seemed, with rare exceptions, their idealism and sense of ‘getting by happily with bare bones efficiency’ was something bred into them as deeply or more than vendetta and hospitality were in most Dominion folk. She had been shocked to the core of her being when the Lieutenant had accepted the shuttle, for example – although quite happily so to be sure. And he was among one of the most stubborn Scolopendrans she’d come across yet. Of course this put her in mind of the message she’d received, and the need to pass it on first thing in the morning, the accompanying thoughts bringing a quiet smile to her face. Massetti and Pascali join her for only a moment, long enough to take the gifts off her hands, then fade back to offer her the space she tends to enjoy – if not demand.

From off to one side, a tall man, looking to be in his mid twenties, tips back the rest of his drink and sets the glass aside. His eyes focused on the lady somewhat lost in reverie, he cuts quickly through the slowly dispersing crowd, approaching her from the left. Unlike many, he is dressed in a simple, yet tasteful dark grey business suit – one clearly of expensive cut and fabric, and without a wrinkle to be seen.

“Imperatrice, a moment, per favore?”

Nathi turns, much less jumpy than she had been earlier, and graces the younger man with a smile. “Of course, Signore. What can I do for you this evening?”

“A matter of Family business, Imperatrice,” he says smoothly, offering a respectable bow, while keeping his eyes on her. “My father, the honorable Lazaro Genovese, has taken advantage of this occasion to make certain changes as well. Please, let me properly introduce myself,” he says, offering his hand which she accepts, then gently bringing it to his lips. “Lucano Genovese, son of Lazaro, and as of tonight, the accepted head of our little Family, as my venerable father wishes to enjoy his last days in the comfort of retirement. I wished to offer my personal respects, and congratulations on your coronation, as well as the good wishes of La Famiglias.”

“Grazie, Signore. And my congratulations as well on your successful … ascension. I take it then that the negotiations went smoothly?” she says, offering him her arm and indicating that he should walk with her.

Lucano accepts with a nod, falling in beside her and matching her slow, casual pace. “They went exceptionally smoothly. I count it in no small part to my father’s skill in diplomacy, and his proven record. We are of course pleased at the results, and I am honored to have been chosen to serve the Family in this capacity.”

“Business,” she says, looking off towards the two Marshals for a moment. “It has been good. For all of us.”

“Indeed it has. And we intend that it continue to be mutually beneficial, Imperatrice. Another reason for wishing to see you.” With his free hand, he slowly reaches into his suit jacket, making certain she sees exactly what he is doing, lifting it open enough that it is clear there is no weapon, merely a fat black envelope which he carefully pulls out, and quietly offers to her. “A token,” he continues, “of our esteem, and we hope, to symbolize a renewal of bonds and agreements.”

Nathicana accepts, hefting the envelope gently, fingers pressing its contents with a practiced subtlety, before tucking the bustarella in against her in a swirl of cloth. “Consider your token accepted, and with it, a continuation of past agreements between our two ‘families’. We recognize the passing of the torch, and will honor the contracts and arrangements that exist, yours to mine and mine to yours.” Flagging down one of the attendants, she takes one of the glasses of wine, Lucano taking one as well.

“As it was, so let it continue, on my honor,” she says, locking gazes with the man and raising her glass. He nods, his gaze steady, mirroring her motions. “On my honor,” he replies, both of them tipping back their glasses, and slowly draining them. Both smile as they set their glasses aside, continuing on their walk.

“The future looks profitable, no?” she says casually.

“I foresee an early snowfall,” he comments in return, in an equally casual manner. “Though I shouldn’t think that would affect our tea shipments, which will likely see a boost. Our hospitality efforts have been doing rather well, especially this week from what our accountants say. And it’s surprising how many foreigners we’ve seen kicking the gong around downtown, come to think of it. Have no fear, Imperatrice. I think things look profitable indeed.” He pauses, gently disengages and kisses her hand again.

“It has been a pleasure,” Lucano says. “Our congratulations as well on your impending marriage. Blessings on you, the Imperatore, and your future generations.”

Nathi nods and smiles, not betraying the slight twinge she feels at that last comment. “Grazie, Signore. My thanks, and my best wishes to your Family, and to your esteemed father. May he be able to enjoy his retirement, and watch on with pride as his son carries on the Family tradition.”

“Grazie, my Lady. I will be certain to pass that on. Buona serra.” And with that, the younger man offers a short bow, and makes his way confidently to the door.

Fingering the envelope thoughtfully, Nathicana watches him go, taking it back out, then slipping it down the back of her bodice, once again freeing her hands, then makes her way purposefully towards the two Marshals who it would seem, are also on their way out.

Slipping in quietly between them, looping one arm through each of theirs, she looks up at first one, then the other with a knowing smile.

“Well good evening, gentlemen,” she says softly. “I do hope you didn’t think to leave without at least saying hello? Both Marshals of the Five Kingdoms – elevated due to heroism and valor in that nasty little altercation with Menelmacar, if memory serves me. Dash Hattori, one-time member of Fury’s Call, fourth company, and Khaled Sudani, Southron guard veteran? It is a pleasure to finally meet you two. If you are, as it seems, headed in the direction of the Pallazzo, perhaps you would be so good as to accompany me, as my path lies in that direction as well.”

Oi, the boys are just going to love this, I'm sure. Ah well. Method to my madness, and I can't possibly hope for them to understand, or approve. Then again, they don't really need to.

"....until you've got to get a doctor to come 'round and pull it out again." Sudani stops his previous line of conversation, looking with interest at the interloper. "Well hello there," he says with a bit of a grin.

Hattori turns his gaze to the woman as well, slowing his pace a bit. "Ah, our good hostess. The honor is ours, I'm quite sure. Apologies for not... gracing you with our presence back there, but in light of the company we felt obligated to decline. I'm afraid we'd probably get along much worse with our Triumvirate counterparts than even Alkanphel. God only knows what went on but we're not too confident in our abilities to coexist there."

Sudani nods. "We are glad for the chance to finally meet you, Lady Nathicana. We were surely remiss in not doing so earlier, but I'm afraid we're easily distracted by the splendor of your wonderful city." His grin broadens. "It's like Ali'Staan times fifty."

"I hope you wouldn't take it as an insult," says Hattori with a wry grin of his own. "But they don't let us out much," he adds with a wink.

Mancuso coughs politely and smiles, pausing to take another sip of wine. “Yes, well, the ah … Noldor, despite their supposed longevity, seem to lack the depth and the wisdom one might expect from such experience and opportunity to learn, if I may be so bold,” he says thoughtfully. “While they have, if my grasp of history serves, progressed rather fantastically, I’m not certain they have taken the time and learned the lessons offered in that passage. They remind me of an elaborate movie stage. While there is artistry and technology at work, and in abundance, when you come down to it, it is in the end just a pretty façade. I sometimes wonder if they have reached a point in their evolution that does not allow for further progression in societal and spiritual means, if you understand. While technology continues to expand, it is as much their allies as their own, perhaps in some cases moreso. You’ll forgive me for insinuating that technology is not ‘all’ when it comes to measuring ones progression.”

He grins and takes another bite of fruit and cheese, washing it down with another clearly-enjoyed sip of wine. “Though I cannot truly relate, I think I grasp where you are coming from concerning the ‘price’ of it all. Perhaps if I were more attached I would understand it all the better, however I’ve found that my interests and efforts have tended towards the more ethereal. It isn’t as though I am without friends, mind. Anything but. Still … I cannot help but imagine that the rewards are by far worth the price paid in the end, if one chooses to use them to their best advantage and continue ones pursuit of knowledge.”

He looks down for a moment, smiling softly to himself, then lifts his eyes again to regard her quietly before continuing. “You do me honor, my Lady Shodan – far more than I deserve, truth. I am after all but a not-so-humble diplomat who is pleased to have the opportunity to serve his nation. My success or failure I suppose in many eyes, will depend on the manner I am able to carry myself and represent the Dominion in our political affairs, and in some part, my own eyes as well, granted. Other than that, I’m not sure that happiness is a state one achieves so much as being one of the positive facets of a continual effort towards enlightenment and progression, along with a plethora of other aspects, pleasant or otherwise. Whatever the case, I intend to continue my journey for as long as I am allowed. We will see in the end whether success and happiness were achieved, I suppose. Until then,” he says with a slight shrug and smile, perhaps a touch of mischief. “It remains a work in progress, and hence less measurable than some might think.”

Nathicana gives them both a sly, knowing smile, nodding slowly as they walk. “No insult meant, no insult taken, my dears. As for why they don’t let you out much, I can’t imagine. I’m told you’ve been no trouble at all – as expected. ‘Tis a shame, really … I’d think a good distraction now and then would be good for morale, no?”

“All the same, thank you for the compliments. I’ve always loved Devras myself – biased though I may well be. I would be willing to bet you’ve barely skimmed the surface in your short time here, regardless of the rather celebratory atmosphere.” Patting each one’s arm as they walk on, she looks ahead, walking with a casual purpose.

“As for Alkanphel, I wouldn’t worry too much. I think after a long day of mingling and drinking temperaments were a bit strained on all sides tonight. It’s a pity you all can’t get along better, really. Ideologies and basic tenets aside, I can’t help but think you all would have a grand time together. Just give up that distasteful slavery and domination business, and dismiss your vendetta with the elves … “ Nathicana trails off casually, then glances at each one, grinning broadly to show she’s teasing them a bit.

S.H.O.D.A.N. chuckles, the soft silk of her kimono shaking lightly with the motion of her shoulders. "You asked my opinion; you got it. The price is there; whether or not it's worth it is for each individual to determine. It's a far more honest answer than the 'oh, yeah, immortality is easy' you'd get if you've asked a Noldo... and I've asked, and that is essentially the answer I received. Perhaps it's true; then again, the Elves have always been an insular society--empathy with mortals has never been a strong suit, as far as I can tell.

"And don't let me fool you," she says with a smile, following Manusco's lead with the tangerines and cheese, enjoying the variations and mixtures. "I do enjoy myself, usually, and I do believe it has been worth the cost. However, it's hardly worthwhile if I do not constantly analyze both the cost and benefits and try to see what they actually mean to me and the situation around me. The only risk is becoming overly thoughtful... which is not in and of itself a weakness, overall." Another smile, a little sly. "I'm sure you've seen just as I have that people very rarely take the time for introspection, often to their detriment. That being said, I think your current philosophy is quite well-balanced."

Treznor chats comfortably with the remaining guests, attempting to play host while Nathicana has engaged her attention elsewhere. The exchange with the Marshals had not gone unnoticed, although he was too far away to tell what they discussed. He glanced at his security team and noted they were keeping at least half an eye on that development as well.

Not my town, not anymore. Not my rules. I'm not Emperor here. Still, it might be a good idea to have Alex hook up with one of the locals and shadow them from a respectable distance.

He bows to the guests and makes a graceful withdraw to have a quick chat with the commander of his detail before slipping out of the room.

End of the hall at the rear of the building, spot most adjacent to the Bascillica, when you’re ready.

Even without the chip in his brain, he could remember those instructions easily enough. Thanks to the chip in his brain, he knows more than one way to get there. He steps into a side room and nods to the man waiting for him. Ten minutes later the door opens, then closes again.

I bet the EM sensors are going nuts. I hope they didn't forget my message.

A few meters down the hall and then into another room. It's odd, like walking with tunnel vision, but navigable. There's a good reason for Treznor soldiers and operatives to train extensively with this equipment before being allowed out in the field.

He bypasses the security on a window with deft hands before opening it to the night air. He breathes deeply, then steps out onto the narrow ledge. Around him the city is alive with activity as the people of Devras revel in celebration. In a moment of fancy, he imagines he looks upon the mob of Rome.

Not too far off the mark, I suppose.

Even their ancestors couldn't have done it better. He's aware of some of the more interesting parties, and has a thought to join one or two. First, however, he has a date and he's not going to disappoint her.

He looks around and finds a handhold, precarious for someone who isn't an accomplished rock climber or an enhanced human. He leaps lightly and snags it, pulling himself up one-handed until he reaches the next one. Then over, balancing like a cat, until he reaches a drainage pipe. It's old and rusty, but he's low enough that his weight doesn't seriously compromise it. Still, he gives it appropriate care while he shifts to his next vantage point before leaping to a balcony below and landing lightly on the balls of his feet.

A pause while he assesses the situation. No one seems to have been disturbed inside, and he casts no shadow from the city lights.

Professor, you'll never know the wonders you've wrought. Stupid bastard.

He puts a foot on the wrought iron railing and leaps into the night, catching hold of a flagpole meters away and swinging into a squatting perch. The metal frame bends under him but holds. He's at the corner of the building, now, and near to his target. Another series of handholds spaced carefully apart, and he arrives at the window ledge where he wants to be.

The security on this window is a trickier than the first one. Nathicana was careful to increase the security on this room, as was only proper. He works for several minutes until he's satisfied he's got it, then cautiously slides it open and steps inside.

That was fun. I've got to talk her into coming with me later.

"Oi!" Starts Sudani, snapping his head towards Nathi with an irritated look, only to have it fade a moment later once he notes her grin. "Heh... I don't think it's in the cards, my good Imperatrice." He winks. "Now they are more than welcome to concede defeat, but we will not," he notes, pushing open the door as they reach it.

Hattori compulsively shoots a glance over his shoulder as they leave, furrowing a brow as he catelouges to room. Once the door shuts, he turns back around, adressing her previous point. "As fara s getting along goes, you're probably right. My guess would be that the Titan boys have made this a personal matter between themselves and..." he pauses. "Well, whoever we send." He grins. "I blame Reaven."

Sudani throws his head back and laughs. "That man... good god. Of all the places he could be employed, I'd have never guessed the Foriegn Ministry."

“Oh, I think your Master has Reaven right where he wants him to be … which of course, is part of the problem. It’s interesting really, having never met the dear boy it is a bit harder to get a firm read on him, but still … he does have a talent for being abrasive,” she says with a soft chuckle. “As for making this personal, I would think there is a bit of that going around on all sides. I do appreciate none of you letting it get too out of hand, regardless. May even count it as a personal favor, perhaps.”

As they step out into the quiet courtyard, the strings group having retired at midnight, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “It’s nice to be away from the crowd after such a long day,” she says to the two Ardans. “Thank you for accompanying me – it was a most pleasant walk. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve a few guests I promised to look in on, then I too will be calling it a night. I hope you both enjoy the rest of your stay. Don’t hesitate to ask if there is something you find yourselves in need of. And …” She pauses, looking in the direction of the warlord’s suite. “Do send my regards to Alkanphel. He has had a trying evening.”

Gently disentangling her arms from theirs, she makes a graceful, shallow curtsey, then heads for the stairway leading up to the second floor, away from the back corner. Nathi gathers her skirts, casually throwing them over one arm, baring her legs to above her knees in the front, and obviously not caring as she pads on bare feet up the stairs and disappears into the shadows of the upper balcony.

Her path to the room was circuitous to say the least, stopping in at a couple rooms (albeit empty ones) for a moment, then quietly slipping into one of the secret ways that had been built into the Pallazzo. This route took her past several soldati stationed there to keep any other wanderers from utilizing the thin passageways if they were to happen to come across them by some chance. In checking, she found there was no word of Devon, and though there had been some odd readings during the night, nothing had come of it. In further checking however, he had left the ballroom and as yet had not been seen since. Not too terribly troubling, all things considered. It hadn’t been long after all, and it was impossible to have eyes everywhere.

Well, I did say ‘join me when you’re ready’ after all. No doubt he’s finishing up some last minute business, given his earlier comments. All’s well – should give me time to ‘prepare’ for him, she can’t help but think, the latter bringing a smile to her face, as she ponders said ‘preparations’.

Coming to the exit, she makes a quick check, then slips out into the hallway, making her way quietly to the door. A pause, a look to the security just down the hall who signals the ‘all clear’ with a subtle hand motion, and she slowly opens the door and slips inside.

"Good evening, Imperatrice. I trust you're up for some adventure tonight?"

Treznor pulls back the sheets on the bed and pats it invitingly. "Frankly, I was expecting you to beat me here. How are the trouble twins doing, anyway?"

Nathicana grins broadly, walking over to the bed slowly, her skirts still casually tossed over one arm. She puts one foot up on the edge of the bed, then leans over on her knee, letting her eyes wander over him casually. "Oh, I think the boys are just fine. They're really not such a bad crowd, you know. Not all of them at least. Or perhaps, not all the time's more like it."

Arching one brow inquisitively, she reaches down to trace one finger along his foot, then winks. "Just how in hell did you get in here so quietly, and what exactly do you mean by ... adventure?"

Treznor gestures to the jumpsuit draped carefully over a chair in the corner, and then to the backpack sitting on the floor next to it. "I was sneaky. I warned your security teams ahead of time so they wouldn't chase down the anomalous EM signature and shoot me, then went the scenic route." His gesture shifts to indicate the window, still half-open to allow a cool breeze.

"As for adventure, after we celebrate a little here I was thinking of checking out some of the raves going on in the city. There's one on a rooftop somewhere to the east I was particularly interested in. The band is supposed to be very good. I brought another suit for you, and some outfits to help maintain proper imperial decorum."

"I do believe I'm slipping," Nathi says wryly. "That or you're just too damn distracting." She reaches behind, unfastening the long skirts and letting them fall, then climbs up onto the bed next to him, still wearing the long-sleeved bodysuit that made up the remainder of her costume. "I think I could manage that, so long as we grab something to eat in between. Damn tradeoffs."

Treznor reaches out for a long, hungry kiss, then breaks away and nods. "Alas, I didn't think of that. We'll have to procure some more supplies, then. I'm sure your room service is up to the task. As good as the spread was tonight, you must have leftovers.

"Leftovers and just about anything we want, really ... just a Spook call away, room service to boot. It's good to be the Imperatrice, no?" she says in return, drawing him closer for another long, eager kiss. She pulls back only slightly, still smiling. "I've looked forward to this all day."

He grins mischievously and winks at her. "So have I, Your Majesty." His hand snakes around to seek the mechanism to release the bodysuit from her supple form. "Now, unless you can think of any other administrative details to discuss, I recommend that we call this meeting to order."

Nathicana deftly reaches around to retrieve the black envelope she'd secreted there earlier, subtly tucking it under the edge of the mattress where she can reach as she leans in and kisses him again, her other hand working to assist him in the removal of the unwanted article of clothing.

"Oh, I couldn't agree more, boy ... the only administrative details, I think, are those best addressed in a close one on one 'discussion', after all. And there is so very, very much to cover ..."

Alkanphel sits alone, expressionless, on a bench not far from the main entrance of the gardens, examining his hands as he waits in silence. It seems unnaturally quiet around him, and even the plants seem oddly still. More importantly, his Aura has returned.

She senses the difference as she approaches, and slows her steps on account. Nathicana's eyes narrow slightly as she ponders this, before she smoothes her features, puts on a subtly pleasant smile, and draws herself up straight as she continues walking over to meet him. "Alkanphel," she says softly. "You said you wanted to meet with me, so ... here I am."

The Maia lifts his head and stands slowly, nodding as she speaks. "Indeed," he begins, taking a step towards her. "Care to walk with me for a bit? I've got some..." he pauses. "Things I'd like to go over with you if I may."

"Of course," she says. Such a talk had been expected, after all. She steps in closer, offering him her arm, but not taking the liberty of being too familiar. Something about his demeanor, and the fact that his long-abandoned 'aura' had returned still concerning her more than a little. "Please, lead the way."

Alkanphel nods slowly, taking the offered arm as he begins to walk down the path. "Ah, where to begin..." he starts thoughtfully, stroking his chin with his free hand. Silence lingers for a moment. "You may remember from our last... discussion that I'm intending to make some changes. Very necessary changes, as it were, on account of the fact that I'm not pleased with how this situation is being handled, neither by myself nor by my... my master," he continues, almost spitting the last word. "My demeanor as of late may have implied that you are exempt from my displeasure, but unfortunately this is not the case. You've gotten your answers from me, and now it's time for some reciprocity. I don't wish to anger or alienate you, but there are some things I feel that must be made clear before I can continue in good conscience."

Nathicana listens with growing concern, her eyes fixed on the path ahead, listening not just to his words, but to his inflections, his tone, his pronunciation - anything that might give her more insight. "Yes," she begins hesitantly. "You did mention ... something along the lines of 'change'. I suppose the best way here is the direct approach then. What are your concerns? I will do my best to give you the answers you seek."

He scans the treetops for a moment, picking his words. "I think we can both agree I've been wearing my heart on my sleeve so to speak. This, as you might be able to guess, is not something I do. Ever." He draws his jaw a bit, glancing to her out of the corner of his eye. "I've made my feelings for you known on several occasions. Why have you not done the same for me?" He asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Am I robbed of this privilege on virtue of my past intentions, or am I forsaken entirely for Devon?" The Maia shakes his head. "I can't help but get the feeling that I'm being..." he trails off, gesturing with his free hand. "Strung along. Humored, if you will, as I know you can't afford to alienate me when you're still not certain how the world will react to the child. Would I be abandoned if they didn't mind?"

Nathicana lets out a slow breath she had unconsciously been holding, then shakes her head. "It is ... more complex than you may imagine, Alkanphel. And though it is likely no excuse, one would have to go back years to truly understand some of the 'whys' of it all - not that it likely makes much difference to you or helps you feel any better." She pauses again, holding up her free hand in a gesture for patience as she gathers her thoughts. "I think I made myself quite clear on some points last night. I may be able to forgive you, in time, for using me like you did in that bastard's little power play. I may be able to forgive you for your callous attitude about doing it at the time. I don't take treachery lightly, boy. I never have. I learned at a young age to trust no one, and it has taken more effort and patience on the part of those closest to me to even begin shifting that to a less ... paranoid stance across the board than you will ever know."

Her expression hardens as she speaks, still looking at the path ahead as they walk through the gardens. "You surprised me with your tenderness, your gentility, your concern at the beginning. I have always thought you to be better than a good many of your compatriots, and until that admission, you proved me right. I found myself undeniably attracted, I won't lie. Something you have to understand however, is that with me, building trust and more meaningful bonds has always taken more time than likely it should. Nor have I ever maintained a traditional outlook on relationships and what the subtleties involved mean to others." Nathicana glances over for a brief moment, then looks back ahead. "And then there is Devon, and the ... problems between you and he. And the children. You certainly haven't made the situation easy to say the least, Alkanphel." Another pause. "But no, I haven't tried to maintain some sort of ties simply for the sake of 'support', if that means anything to you."

"I see," he says simply, turning his gaze back to the path as he analyzes her words for a moment. "What did you mean by 'has taken more patience on the part of those closest to me to begin shifting that to a less paranoid stance across the board than you will ever know?' Is that not an implicit admission that my efforts are for naught? Why, despite the possibility of forgiveness do you always keep me at bay?" He frowns. "I've shown you a side of me that no one else in this world or the next has ever seen, and it isn't likely to happen again. Why am I expected to just..." he trails off, his expression hardening. "Deal with it when my first and only love should go so...so...unrequited?"

Nathicana sighs and shakes her head, her brow furrowed. "No, dammit," she says tiredly. "I was referring to past history is all. Things that have happened that I choose to keep to myself. This is my nature, Alkanphel. This is who I am just as much as your reactions, your emotions are a result of who you are. I keep you at bay because you have proven yourself false, at least once. You wish that to change, then you must be willing to do what's needed to prove you mean what you say."

She does however lean in a bit closer as they walk, while her free hand gently rubs her forehead. "I cannot help that you fell in love with a calculating, manipulative, dysfunctional bitch like myself, Alkanphel. If you wish to put it in those terms, you are expected to 'deal' because you have chosen this path. The fact that I have allowed you as much access as I have in spite of what you've done ought to speak volumes if you know me at all." Nathicana looks over to him finally, holding her gaze there for a moment. "And you ought to know by now that I would never allow access to my child to someone whom I despised, or thought beyond ... redemption."

"This puts me in a particularly awkward position, Nathi. It really does. Suffice to say the nature of these 'changes' I keep alluding to is such that it is probably prudent that I keep them to myself. But at the same time, I will not go through with them unless I am suitably convinced that it will be worth my while, or even...appreciated by yourself." He stops and turns toward her, taking her hands in his and lifting them slightly. "But I'm feeling more than a little lost. Before I go through with this, I just want to know..." he pushes his brows together again. "That there's actually something to fight for."

"That," she says carefully, watching him closely, "I think depends somewhat on what you expect, what you are willing to accept, and how you choose to proceed. You deserve more than empty promises - I grant you that much respect for what you've shown me, aside from that most ... unfortunate choice of yours."

Alkanphel doesn't like what he's hearing, and it shows. He scans her face intently for a moment, hoping for some insight there that might betray her words. She still hadn't said it. "Indeed," he begins, narrowing his eyes a bit. "I suppose it's too much to ask that that be put in the past where it belongs," he says with a frown. "I don't suppose this 'redemption' you speak of is easily achieved by any craft I possess." He closes his eyes for a moment, drawing in a breath. "And if I did manage to do it, what then? What room for improvement is there if I'm... I'm... damned to play second fiddle to him?" He asks, hiking his chin back towards the Piazza. "You've already made your choice, so what motivation do I have?"

"Family is deeply important here in the Dominion. Such ties are not toyed with lightly. For me, who has been without family for so long, perhaps even moreso. Forgiveness is not a matter of 'difficulty', it is a matter of patience. Your meeting with Treznor and your promises to me have shown me you are willing to go the distance," she says quietly, her expression clouding on references to family as she pushes deeper thoughts aside. "Even in the face of outright insult last night, still, you held true. These things alone have earned you a good measure of respect, and have done much to ... ease my mind. As for Devon," she says, glancing away for a moment. "That is a decision I made a long time ago, and it cost me dearly. All the same, I do not regret it. I did not know he planned to change the arrangement we had, still aside from legitimacy for heirs, the relationship there doesn't change, nor do I regret that either. He knows me. He knows who and what I am, and he accepts that - without limitations or conditions. Can you say the same?" Nathicana fixes him with a firm gaze. "I asked before what it is you expect, and what you are willing to accept. I ask you again now. How else can I give you a straight answer?"

The Maia sighs. "I'm not sure I know yet, in truth. To either question. Suffice to say I expect some manner of reciprocity at the very least, as so far I have seen little or none, before or after my confession." He snorts. "You've yet to actually spend an entire evening with me for instance. It's always 'roll off and leave.' Why?"

Nathicana looks up at him in surprise. "You never asked me to stay," she says, her tone confused. "You've always treated our little rendezvous casually enough, so once you'd established that, I saw no reason to think it otherwise. Is it any wonder your admissions of something much deeper took me by surprise? Jesu dolce, Alkanphel - for the longest time, I thought you were close simply for your daughter, and the fact that you enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed yours. No more, no less. What else was I supposed to think? You never indicated otherwise til later, and always seemed content enough to have me leave after the fact ..."

Alkanphel draws his jaw. "It's not like I was kicking you out. And I'm more interested on seeing what you do on your own anyway. In fairness, you never asked me either, 'casual' or not." He shakes his head. "And if I seemed 'content,' well..." he trails off with a shrug. "I don't know how to answer that. I wasn't then, and I'm not now."

"So it's my fault for not reading your mind?" she asks quietly, one brow arching up. "I've never been one to beg. I offered you ample opportunities to suggest I stay, dropped hints galore ... all of which seemed to be dismissed. From my vantage, I was dismissed, so I went. I wasn't aware this was some grand experiment, boy. If it comes to 'not content' you can count two of us there."

He flashes her an angered look, but checks himself after a moment, by closing his eyes and drawing in another breath. "Perhaps we're not so similar in the way we think as I had originally thought. If you 'dropped hints' I didn't pick up on them, for one reason or the other. As you know, one doesn't often get the opportunity to engage in this sort of ...behavior where I've been living for the last several millenia. These subtleties are... new and in many respects quite confusing to me, I suppose. Perhaps it was just a miscommunication."

"We are similar in many regards ... in others, we remain very different. For that I apologize, needed or not," she says in more relaxed tone. "What's done is done, and there is only 'forward'. It seems we've both made some mistakes here. The question remains, what do you expect of me, all things considered?"

The warlord examines her quietly for a moment, weighing the situation. "Reciprocity." He answers quietly. "That is, if it wouldn't be a lie. I've trusted and confided in you more than any of my race has since Melian. All I want is to not remain alone in my affections. To be certain that you're not just paying me lip service for the sake of the children, despite my... 'sins' as you phrased it earlier."

"And can you accept I share my affections? That my body, my mind, and my emotions are mine to offer as I see fit?," she asks steadily, her eyes on his, for once not bothering to hide the worry there.

Alkanphel sighs. "I've been thinking about this for quite some time now. The conclusion I've reached is that while I may not like it, ultimately I imagine you'll feel trapped and betrayed if I or anyone else tried to convince you otherwise." He draws in a breath. "I think I can. I know you wouldn't have it any other way."

"I can't help who I am, Alkanphel. No more than you can help who you are. While we can adapt, there are some things that simply 'are' about us. This much I can accept. So long as you can as well ..." Nathi tilts her head thoughtfully, then gently reaches up to trace one hand along the side of his face. "You are not the only one to suffer from this. I've a feeling I will be paying for these choices quite likely for the rest of my life." She takes a slow breath, then lets it out softly. "Don't you ever play me for the fool again, boy. It's rare enough I offer second chances. I wouldn't count on a third."

Alkanphel can't resist a chuckle. "I think it's safe to say it backfired pretty horribly, at least for the Man Downstairs," he answers with a wink. "Besides... now I know better."

"I can't say as I regret any 'backfiring' on his part," she says, gritting her teeth slightly, then taking another slow breath and relaxing again. "I don't understand what you see in me that you'd put yourself through all this for, Alkanphel. Can't understand that at all. But I promise you this - you play straight with me, I'll play straight with you. You're sincere in your care for me, I will be so as well with you in return. All I ask is that you give me time, because damned if I haven't been both hurt and mad as hell at you for stooping so low as you did - orders or not. You just don't get much more personal than that, boy. And as stubborn as Dominion folks are with revenge and holding grudges ... I am one of the worst."

Alkanphel knots his brows. "We've already been over this, and I've explained to you on several occasions that his motives are no longer compatable with mine. Anything else I can do to allay your misgivings..." he grins wickedly. "Will come in due time. But for now," he starts again, reaching into his jacket pocket, "on to our next order of business. Earlier when I said I came bearing no gifts, I must admit I lied. I judged that something like this would have more meaning if given to you now in private, as opposed to when everyone else was doling out their respective gifts."

"That both comforts and disturbs me, Alkanphel," she says, her brows furrowing slightly at his grin. Both arch up however as he reaches into his pocket, and she looks at him curiously. "No gift was expected or needed," she says slowly.

Alkanphel nods a bit. "I don't imagine people are too eager to take gifts from Maiar," he begins with a wry grin, drawing a small box from the pocket. "Especially jewelry." He chuckles a bit. "But its not a ring, I promise." He purses his lips. "Though I suppose it would be healthy to be concerned since I made it." He chuckles again. "Damn that Annatar."

This revelation gives her pause. More than. And she looks up at him sharply. "Don't even joke about such things, boy. I have done a bit of studying since my dealings became entwined with you and the elves, you know ... all the same," she says, her tone growing curious - and cautious. "I wasn't aware that ... crafting was one of your talents."

"Well, it isn't, in fact," he admits. "I'm not a craftsman, by trade. Sauron was, being a Maia of Aulë." He grins a bit. "Mandos didnt really teach us anything about crafting things such as these, so I'm more or less self taught. Kindly forgive any...imperfections on account."

He opens the box, revealing a mithril-crafted Dominion Falcon pendant inlaid with Ruby and Onyx on a slender yet remarkably firm chain. Despite his apology, there appears to be little or no flaw in the craftsmanship. "That there is just about all the mithril Utumno has dredged in the last hundred and fifty years." He grins. "If Melkor knew about this..." he pauses. "I'd never hear the end of it. Valuable stuff, that."

"Sante Maria madre del dio," she whispers, looking over the the beautiful pendant in surprise, then looking back to him, shaking her head slightly. "How ... Why would you ... oh hell, Alkanphel. He's going to kill you," she finally manages, looking rather alarmed. "You shouldn't have. I mean, you really shouldn't have."

Alkanphel smiles a bit, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "He doesn't have to know," he assures her with a wink, lowering his hand to her shoulder. "I think we can both keep a secret, no? It shouldn't be that hard."

"You are insane, boy. 'Doesn't have to know'? You don't think he'll notice this sort of treasure just up and disappearing?" she asks in disbelief, her surprise keeping her from masking her worry. "Of course I'd never betray you to him - you needn't even ask. But ... Christ, man. I couldn't possibly accept, not knowing the price there."

He places the pendant in her palm and closes her hand around it. "Not if he didn't know it was there in the first place," he says slyly. "I will accept no refusal, for as you can guess I have risked much to get this here in secrecy."

Nathicana holds it tightly, searching his face for a moment, then nods, taking her other hand to reach up and draw him down for a soft, slow kiss. "You be careful, then boy. Don't get too caught up in being clever. You've got responsibilities, remember," she says softly, then kisses him again.

Alkanphel draws her closer as she kisses him, smiling again as she breaks off. "Indeed I do," he admits. "Now perhaps it's time to address some of my more... pressing responsibilities?"

She looks at him curiously, one brow arching up, smiling softly. "And ... just what would these 'pressing responsibilities' entail, dare I ask?" she murmurs.

"Oh, this and that," he starts with a mischievous grin. "This is a rather large garden, is it not? I'm sure we can get lost somewhere, no?" He takes a quick look around. "Besides. It's too quiet in here."

Nathicana arches up her other brow, glancing slowly side to side, then looking back at him. "It is ... it is ..." she says slowly, choosing not to mention the fact that Mas and Pascalli were working to keep folks clear of their immediate area already, in the interest of security and privacy. "You are shameless, boy."

"'Boy?'" he grins. "Didn't we have this discussion once before?" he queries, pulling her closer still. "You just aren't gonna let that go, are you?"

"Perhaps," she says, teasingly resisting enough to make him work for it a little. "And no ... no I'm not."

The Maia laughs a bit. "Well then. I suppose I'll just have to go prove myself. Again. Not that you'll hear me complain." He winks. "Try not to attract too much attention, what with all the screaming you'll be doing."

Nathicana gasps and balls up her fist to smack him in the shoulder, frowning indignantly. "You arrogant bastard!"

Alkanphel grins. "Prove me wrong, then."

She looks back at him, eyes narrowed. "If anyone is going to be making noise boy, it's going to be you," she half growls.

"Well..." he pauses, and taking her arm in his he starts to walk back down the path again. "I suppose there's only one way to find out."

The raven-haired woman nods, nearly pulling him along as she continues forward. "You're damn right there is," she says determinedly.

--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--

"Pascali?"

"Yeah, Mas?"

"I think we're going to be here for a while ..."

--a long pause, strategic repositioning, brief calls to the other teams--

"Mas ..."

--soft cruchings heard cutting in and out between--

"Yeah?"

"Seen any snakes lately? Might want to let 'em know they're a little late."

"The fu...? Aw hell, Pascali. Do us all a favor and leave attempts at humor to me, eh?"

"Awwwww ..."

"Shut it."



ooc: Anyone needing/wanting to accomplish anything here, let me know, otherwise, I think I'll call it a wrap, aside for the Shodey/Mancuso thing that my brain hasn't been up to on account of severe lack of sleep. Took some interesting turns, was a blast rp'ing with y'all - thanks for the opportunity, and hope you had fun as well.

“As balanced as an imperfect human can strive for, I suppose,” he replies with a quiet smile. “As you’ve mentioned, people rarely do take the time, and we’ve seen time and again the price paid for such errors in judgement. Sometimes on a small, private scale, at other times, sending an entire nation into chaos. I appreciate your candor, Lady.”

Mancuso grows more thoughtful for a moment, tilting his head, then taking another slow sip of wine as he studies her. “I can’t help but wonder, how many choose to avail themselves of such discussions with you? I’m quite certain, given your position and influence, that you are consulted on all manner of problems and needed solutions or fixes … but truly, Shodan – how many choose simply to sit and visit and enjoy your most pleasant company, simply for the sake of doing so?”

He pauses for a moment, looking around, then smiles again. “Perhaps you could tell me as we walk over to the Pallazzo – that is if you’re willing. We can just take our glasses, the bottle, what’s left on the plate … Sometime in the next while here, it looks as though the sun will be coming up, and it is a beautiful sight to see, looking out across the water, seeing it light up the red tiled roofs and colored buildings – The outer balcony, or indeed, the roof, would serve as a wonderful spot …” He trails off, looking over at her with an inquisitive smile.

"Certainly," Shodey replies with a smile, helping by taking up the tray and neatly arranging items on it. "If we have stayed up this late, then it's only appropriate we watch the sun rise. As for the choice between the balcony and the roof... it rarely hurts to resort to the high ground when one wants a good view.

"Company?" The avatar chuckles softly to herself as she stands up, effortlessly balancing the tray. "An extremely small number, for good or for ill. That exact same position and influence you mentioned, coupled with my most varied history, apparently add together to create a most fearsome image. I am quite well-respected by most, but very few are comfortable talking to me. Those that are I enjoy counting among my relatively small cabal of friends."

She lets Fabian lead the way and help by carrying anything if he so wishes. "I really cannot blame anyone for that besides myself. I cultivate the image because it can be useful, and it creates rings of effect. To those who oppose me, I appear fearsome. To those who work with me, I appear strong yet reasonable. To those comfortable enough to talk with me... well, they usually find me in situations uncharacteristic to the other images. My permanent avatar to Scolopendra tends to lounge about on the couch in Speaker-Rrit's office reading. I have been known to let loose my mischievous side both with my husband and one other good friend; I quite often indulge in my low sense of humor by taking advantage of the 'fearsome' visage for good effect. Mask after mask, as it were, each one accurate but perhaps no single one totally so--but is that not apparently the natural way of things? Everyone establishes set facades that create areas of influence, with each influence designed to an intended area. People act differently around coworkers than they do with family than they do with strangers... but these are all truisms."

Aleinna nodded to her cousin, once they reached the door of the chambers were Lady Nathicana was meeting her guests. Pressing a button in his intrincate wraithbone armor, the bodyguard opened a little compartment in his chest plate, more like a hidden pocket, probably designed for survival equipment or to hide extra ammo. However what he brought out of the pocket was none of those items, more like a simple, yet delicate velvet covered wooden box, no larger than a balled fist. finally he nodded again, and gave the box to Aleinna, finally giving his back to her as he turned around, ready to wait until his Lady was over with the interview with the Dominion Mistress.

Aleinna opened the door with care, and stood in front of the Dominion ruler smiling broadly, moving carefully along the floor, almost sliding her feet over the floor, more than walking.

"May the Valar bless your rule as an Empress over your people, Lady Nathicana. Again my eyes have the joy to direct a glance to you. As a human poet said once, and I suppose my voice won't be a flaw over his words. I saw the divine Nathicana. The garlanded, white Nathicana. The slow-eyed, red-lipped Nathicana. The silver-voiced, sweet Nathicana. The plae-robed, beloved Nathicana", sang Aleinna in the delicate voice of her people. Although Aleinna wasn't a minstrel or anything close to that, her sindarin heritage and education at least allowed her to have a more than decent voice.

"My name is Aleinna, Aleinna Cuthálion, and I have come from the Sindarin Empire of Aelosia. As a visitor I have come. To know your carnival and your people, beautiful, mysterious and special as they are, I have come. To share the fun and the joy of the favored sons of Ilúvatar I have come, so different to ours. Yet another mission brought me here, a mission that was imposed to me by those who rule over me and my noble brethen", she continued, taking the traditional, long and elaborated bow that were the aelosian custom after meeting an admired or otherwise important personality. Then she waited for the answer of the Lady of Shadows, as the Sindarin Lady of the Minstrels called Nathicana when she saw her for the first time in the docks of the Craftworld. However, although Aleinna liked the title after she heard it for the first time, today Lady Nathicana looked different, so radiant and gleaming the Dominion Lady was looking. After the bow, she half raised her body, her hands bringing the small velvet covered box in front of her for Nathicana to see.

Nathicana smiled as Alienna entered the room, inclining her head politely. The compliments brought a blush to her cheeks, though in the interest of formality - which was required not only for the event, but considering the tone of her guest - she kept a firm grip on her obvious reactions, and aside from the coloration, did not let them show. When the Elven Lady had finished, Nathi again inclined her head, then looked back to Aleinna, smiling warmly.

"Guren linna chen cened, Aleinna Cuthálion. Mae dellin na mbar nîn." The accent and pronunciation were quite likely off, Sindarin not being a language she was very familiar with, though she had made the effort to learn some simple phrases. "You do me much too much favour with your words and complments, my Lady. I'm afraid I share little with my poetic namesake," she said with a wry smile, "yet I thank you. I hope that you will find our city welcoming, entertaining, comfortable, and all the things which you have hoped it would be. You honor us with your attendance."

Accepting the box gingerly, she again murmured her thanks, and slowly opened it.


Translation: My heart sings to see you, Aleinna Cuthalion. Welcome to my home.

The insides of the box were covered by exquisite purple velvet, a collar of the most dedicated elven manufacture and craftmanship resting over the delicate fabric. The chain, clearly not created by the new arts of technology and psionics of the Sindarin of this days, but with the arcane magical and mysterious sorceries of the elves of old, was forged with entwined links of galvorn and mithril, the fabled and now legendary metals used by the ancient elves to create their weapons and adornments. Many pearls and spheres of onyx hung from the chain, forming three lines of jewels and finishing the accurate and elaborated design of the entire piece. The carefully crafted collar had with no doubt a hidden symbology inside its form and figure, inside the random looking arrangement of black galvorn links and almost white silver mithril ones, with the also silvery white pearls and the shining black onyx spheres.

"Saelil, Daehiril nín, Êl síla nan lû e-govaded vín"**, said Aleinna, resting pretty sure that the Empress of the Dominion understood her. "This is the token of apprecciation that my rulers sent to you through this humble servant, amongst other recognitions. Síladuath Mírdan, The Jewel of Shine and Shadows, we called it", continued the elf, gesturing with one hand at the open box that Nathicana held. "Princess Aliria personally picked this for you, as she seem to held some special admiration for your person, My Lady, and commanded me to explain its properties to you".

"The collar itself is not only beautiful by its own right, but also useful, as we still keep some of the trinkets that our forefathers created before our exile to the stars. The Síladúath is one of them, and it is said that creates a mystical link between a protector and the one he wants to protect. The ways that the jewels use for achieve such task escape even our own understanding, but indeed it can warn the such appointed protector when his supposed charge is in overcoming or real, lethal danger. The mystical link itself is similar to the ones formed by the old Palantír stones of the times of old, although of course in a several times lesser degree, as its magic is not as strong, I'm afraid", Aleinna still was speaking in a lower tone, using her fake and almost funny dominion accent, mimicking what she heard during her short trip.

"Say to the Lady of Shadows that I remember her, and that I'll care for her no matter what happens. She will find funny that a young and inexperienced girl like me will try to attempt the task of being her protector, but it is my will to do so. This gift will help me to know if she ever need my help in the far future, although I'm sure that neither the fate nor the Valar will let any danger to approach her. That was what Princess Aliria said, Lady Nathicana, and many say that a foresee guided her through her words and actions", Aleinna finished to explain, in her eyes a serious and worried stare.

"With the collar the term of elf friend, Mellonen, and Edain, mother of men, are included. Those titles basically means that you are considered a friend of our nation and can call the help of our Empire should you ever need it, and that it is the duty of any aelosian to help you if you ever meet one in dire need. I do know that a powerful, cunning and well placed ruler as yourself in both your internal and international sphere will find such offer and titles funny and insubstantial, as Princess Aliria said, yet our offer stands, an offer of loyalty and steadfastness". With those words the Aelosian finished her speech, and bowed again to the Lady of Shadows, expecting her leave, or her answer.

*Translation: Wise one, Lady of Shadows, a star shines on the occasion of our meeting.

Nathicana was, to put it bluntly ... stunned, though the title she had heard used in Aelosia did make her smile. So many incredible gifts had been offered her, and this ... this was a sight to behold, even among them.

Mithril? Il dio, I'll be wearing twice the worth of Devras itself if this continues! The beauty of the collar was breathtaking - the way the dark and ligh metals meshed, the imagery mirrored by the use of pearl and onyx (which had always been a favorite of hers), the elven design so foreign to Dominion eyes, yet captivating in its intricacy and the obvious skill of the craftsman - all of it combined to make a queenly gift indeed. Moreso than she felt she deserved, by half. The revelations of magical properties was met with an expression of surprise as well, though the abilities granted most assuredly had her mind racing. Such a thing would give her a bit more peace of mind, all things considered.

Still, as beautiful and rich as the collar was as a gift, it was not what impressed her the most, nor brought an unexpected show of emotion to her face, and a very warm smile to her lips.

"Such titles and offers are not offered nor accepted lightly in the Dominion, my Lady Aleinna," she said quietly. "Indeed, I am deeply honored to be held so high in her Highness' esteem. Please relay my heartfelt thanks for her assurance of friendship and protection. I will do my best to remain deserving of it. I do not find such a selfless offer funny or amusing in the least, but accept it as it is offered - with deep appreciation. All things considered, I hope I never have need to call on it, God willing. Let Princess Aliria know, if she did not already, that she has a friend in the Dominion - both myself, and my nation. I could not have asked for a more meaningful gift than this, and this beautiful collar I will hold not only as the rich gift that it is, but as a reminder of her words and offer."

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

"I must admit, my Lady Shodan," Fabian says as he sets their drinks down along the flat top of the eastern wall, then begins setting up two folding chairs he had snagged from the Pallazzo courtyard on their way to the roof. "You are both everything and nothing like what I had expected - a most refreshing experience to be sure. Your candid manner ... quite pleasant, I have to admit." He helps take the small tray of fruit and cheese, setting it within easy reach as well, then if she wishes, helps Shodey into one of the chairs, as gentlemanly as can be.

"There is no doubt that we all have many sides of ourselves, and I think, very few of us have anyone they show all aspects to. I would count yourself blessed that you have such people in your life, regardless of the number. After all, such things are not measured in quantity, but quality. I hope that they always remain deserving of your trust and companionship."

He looks out thoughtfully across the bay, the first steely light of morning beginning to show along the horizon, stretching out as far as the eye could see before meeting with the darker shaps of land to either side, or the occasional island dotting the expanse of calm water.

"I want to thank you, my Lady, for making this evening truly one I will remember, and treasure," he says after a moment, turning to her with a smile. He bows, a graceful flourish of his cape and hand which he holds out as he rises. "A poor sort of memento, I suppose, but freely offered nonetheless." On his outstretched palm rests the gold cinquefoiled flower brooch, adorned with small rubies at the tips and center, that had held his lace cravat in place earlier. "Simply a small token of my esteem, with no expectation in return. It has truly been a pleasure, and I can think of no better way to end the evening, and greet the morning, than in your good company."

Marcus had stayed in the shadows and carefully watched the proceeding. The 'Dread Lady' didn't seem so bad, but then many grew pale when they found out that Queen Silverlief is a Vampiress, even though she's one of the kindest women he had ever met. 'Deathwalker', the elves called her, of course they had had the misfortune of being on the wrong end of the diplomatic stick, but that happens when you overthrow the existing ruler of a nation like they did and then try to force everyone else into submission. They soon learned that Dragonsreach and Highport were not ones to come under heel. Most were grateful, now that the right king of the elves was restored, but 'Deathwalker' could still be heard whispered whenever she was seen.

Lady Ariel had been explicit, 'observe and report only unless you think contact can be made. Make contact only then, and introduce the possibility of opening a diplomatic dialogue only if you feel there would be no danger. Remember, we are new to the international community and have no information, but someone with the name Dread Lady should be on our list to observe, at least.'

Marcus was Deryni. All Deryni were born psionic. Many had specific talents, unlike the Lady Ariel who was simply powerful. Marcus talent lay in changing his physical self to meld with the ambient light level, effectively making him invisible in shadow or darkness, or like a ghost in bright light. He had stayed in the shadows and observed. He didn't like the 'introduce the possibility of opening a diplomatic dialogue' part, but that was only because he was about as diplomatic as an ogre in bar fight. But orders were orders and he didn't see any reason not to approach the woman at least. His only wish was that it was man who ruled. Women tended to distract, especially pretty ones.

He found a place to dampen his psionic talent where no one would see him 'materialize' and then stepped out and toward the nearest of the guards. "Greetings sir", he said in a thick, odd accent, "might I inquire as to how I may pass on good wishes to the Lady Nathicana?"

The guard nodded, then pointed clearly in the direction of the Gianfigliazzi building near the far southwest corner of the Piazza. "Mi'lord, it would be in your interests to search out one Cesare Calabrese, the Lady's Chancellor. He is the one scheduling the audiences for the Imperatrice. He is the tall well-dressed gentleman with a neatly-trimmed beard and goatee, most likely near the front doors and occasionally seeming to be speaking to the air - coordination with security, you know. If you cannot pick him out of the crowd, there are others there who can direct you to him," the traditionally-dressed guardsman replied, smiling pleasantly.

OOC: tag for excellent rp. :)

"Simply a small token of my esteem, with no expectation in return. It has truly been a pleasure, and I can think of no better way to end the evening, and greet the morning, than in your good company."
The mechanoid queen nods sagely with a smile, extracting her ivory hairsticks from one pocket with long, nimble grey fingers before reaching out and exchanging gifts with one smooth motion. The ivory looks to be natural except it has an unusual sheen and gold-and-silver-looking flecks striated throughout it. "Mutual, indeed," she explains with a smile and that feminine firmness that clearly states argument or debate is out of the question. "A token of my far too numerous arts, given in the same mindset."

Leaning back comfortably, she turns to watch the sunrise. "This has been a most pleasant excursion indeed."

"Your most kind", Marcus says and turns in the direction indicated, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. Out of habit he pulls the hood of the black cloak back over his head and makes himself one with the available shadows as he makes his way through. 'Well you started it', he thought to himself, trying to figure out what to say. He had no idea how the Lady Ariel and Queen Silverlief were able to come up with such wonderful words and speechs so quickly and off handedly. 'They would already have a proper greeting by now', he thought. The shirt, pants and soft boots he wore were a soft black as was the cloak, designed to blend with darkness even when he wasn't trying. As he got to the doors he spied the man and approached him nervously. 'I need to get out more', he admonished himself, feeling uncomfortable being in sight of so many.

"Chancellor Calabrese?" he asks from behind the man, only then remembering to bank his psionic talent and allow himself to be seen.

Fabian accepts the ivory sticks with another bow, and softly murmured thanks, turning them over in his hands carefully, appreciating not only their visual beauty but their feel and weight. He does have the presence of mind to know finality when he hears it, and smiles in response as he too settles back into his chair, pausing to study her a moment before turning his face towards the warm glow beginning to touch the far horizon.

The steely grey seems to gradually get pushed back, farther and farther as the soft orange-pink glow fills up the sky, reflecting off the light scattered clouds, tinting their edges in shades of white and gold. The shining orb gradually eases above the horizon (http://test.air-power.us//gallery/albums/Nathi/PalazzoSunrise.jpg), the warm colors spreading further westward, pushing back the bluish-grey of the remaining night, dancing across the clouds and mist-shrouded eastern sky.

Birds can be heard beginning their morning activities, as with the subtle lap of waves against the raised stone of the city. What few revelers still remain make their way through the Piazza quietly, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the dawn as the cleaning staff begins the slow task of putting away chairs and returning the Piazza to a presentable state in as unobtrusive a manner as can be managed.

With a nearly soundless sigh, Mancuso raises his glass, and quietly drains it in silent salutation to the sunrise. Setting it carefully back down, he looks over to Shodey, and smiles again in guileless appreciation of her company, for once, seeming either at a loss for words, or unwilling to break the comfortable silence just yet.

Cesare turns around and smiles warmly, extending his hand in greeting. "That would be me. Might you be the gentleman security notified me would be desiring an audience with the Imperatrice? I believe she is still seeing the Aelosian representative, but ..." Here he pauses, checking a small datapad, then nodding in confirmation. "Yes, I believe the schedule is clear for immediately afterward - if that suits you, mi'lord ...?"

Security was already running a check on Marcus, matching his images with that recorded with his official papers and travelers visa for the Dominion. The colored dot indicated an unknown factor after all, and as they quietly relay back the information they have on the man (nothing ouside the usual of course), he waits patiently, hoping the gentleman will have the presence of mind to introduce himself - in the interest of politeness if nothing else.

"I would be..." he lowers his hood then starts again, a bit embarrassed, "I would be honored for any time the Lady might give me and await her leisure. My name is Marcus Cole. Count in the court of Deryn and right hand to Princess Ariel who consuls the King of Highport. Queen Silverlief of Dragonsreach is his daughter, so you might say I represent all three nations." It was a lie, he knew, but since Deryn couldn't be contact, the Queen would be elated to have her nation represented and the King left matters of foriegn affairs to Lady Ariel it was close enough to the truth to be justifiable.

His documents would show his true position as a count in the court of a nation of people known as the Deryn. It would further show official, though false, information about a distinguished career in the military. The papers are, however, official, having been made by Lady Ariel.

Cesare chuckles good-naturedly and smiles. "Not to worry, your Excellency. I am certain she will be very pleased to make your acquaintance and be introduced via your representation, to the three thrones. Once the Aelosian delegation has concluded their meeting, you will be directed inside - just down the hall there and to the left. There will be guards there to guide you should you need. In the meantime, is there anything I can be of assistance in?"

The information on Marcus is relayed via the small ear bud which is in turn, linked to Spook. Nothing out of the ordinary there, as far as they can tell. Still, newcomers meant watchfulness - or at least, a degree more than they already maintained overall.





(ooc: Pretty much, since we're fluid timing it already, you can rp going in to see her any time you'd like - we'll just assume it's after as indicated. It's the only way we were able to keep things moving before, given everyone's different schedules. So, when you're ready ... go for it. No rush.)

Marcus shook his head, "Thank you, no", and headed down the hall. His black, shoulder length hair and close cut black beard and mustache framed a pale face that obviously didn't see the light of the sun too often. The soft black cloak, shirt and pants matched his hair almost perfectly. He didn't have the long, heavy stride of a military man, but rather he padded along on the balls of his feet in matching soft black soleless boots, making no sound as he moved and he was unconciously watchful. He moved up to the guard and reached up to lower his hood, only to realize that it was already down.

"I was told to await the Empress leisure here?" he asked the guard indicated by cesare, "I'm Marcus Cole."

Marcus wished he had gotten into the city sooner, he had missed the moving picture displays. 'Well' he thought, 'I've dealt with old crones before.' No Deryn could hold office until well into thier four hundredth year and he was still used to that sort of thing. The Queen of Dragonsreach had thrown him off, but then she was Vampiress and wouldn't appear to get any older anyway.

The guard nods, opening the door to the relatively small small but richly-appointed recieving room with a short bow. The raven-haired lady sitting in the carved cushioned chair looks up as he enters, offering him a warm smile. She's anything but an old crone, though concepts and opinions on beauty may vary, depending on the observer.

She wears a beautiful silk Renaissance-style gown of deep crimson, small puff and slash designs along the bodice and upper sleeves, trimmed in black velvet and showing the light cream underdress. Pearls accent the ensemble, sewn in intricate patterns of the bodice and sleeves, smaller details picked out in gold thread. Her hair is swept up in an elaborate twist, the tiny hairpins used to hold it in place each tipped with pearls to match her dress, with carefully selected locks framing her face in soft curls. Atop it all, a surprisingly simple crown rests on her head, with the only other jewelry in evidence being a pair of pearl drop earings, and a matching strand around her neck. Long black silk gloves cover her hands, the telltale bulge on her left ring finger giving the presence of her ring away.

To either side of her are Massetti and Pascalli, her private guards, dressed in traditional style. While armed with swords, they do have their guns within easy reach. Back in the shadowed corner just to the left of the door, if one is to notice these things, another man stands, casually smoking a cigarette, the strong clove scent a giveaway even if initial glances fail. His scarred features are hard, and his age is evident, though hardly appearing weak. Should Marcus look in his direction, he offers a curt nod, saying nothing.

"Welcome to the Dominion, your Excellency," the woman says smoothly, her blue eyes travelling over him appreciatively. "I am pleased to meet an emissary from your nation - or am I to understand, three?"

Marcus can do nothing for a few moments but stare open-mouthed at the beautiful woman before his nostrils flare and he tenses, lean tigerish muscles going taught and moves slightly to take the scarred man into his periferal vision. His bluish-grey eyes can't help but shift back to the woman that stands before him. "Are you dead too?" he can't help but ask in his thickley accented voice, just above a whisper.

'First impressions are the most important', Ariel had told him at least a dozen times. 'So much for that', he thought. What is it the chief likes to say when someone makes a huge mistake? 'You screwed the pooch?' Yeah, well, you screwed the pooch, he said to himself. His eyes shifted to the scarred man then helplessly back to Nathicana.

"Not that you look dead. I mean not that you look like ... " he started to look around the room, searching for the safety of the shadows, changing from his typical pale complexion toward a rather startling red.

Nathi's first instinct is to laugh - but that might be construed as rude. She covers it with a polite cough, hiding her smile behind her hand as she gestures for him to step forward with her other. "There are those who might say I would be better off that way," she says with a wry smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Still, a curious phrase to start a conversation with, no?"

Noting how nervous the poor man seems, she makes a subtle sign with her hand to Massetti, who murmurs something quietly into the comm set, then nods in response. "So, your Excellency," she continues, still smiling pleasantly. "What can I do for you? It is not unheard of for unfamiliar nations to use such an event to introduce themselves, after all. We are of course honored to have you in attendance during this time of celebration." As she finishes, the doors open again to admit one of the attendants carrying a small tray with a bottle, and two glasses of wine. He bows and offers the first to Nathicana, who accepts it with a slight nod, then turns to offer the other to Marcus, his bow respectable, though not as deep as for the lady.

Marcus bows, taking the proffered drink and turns to Nathicana. He looks her in the eyes as he says, "My Lady, I feel uncomfortable with the blanket you place upon me, for surely nothing is so excellent as yourself". He bows as he finishes and gasps slightly, placing the glass down and looking back into her eyes. "I forget my manners, My Lady." He places his left hand over his heart and extends the other one, stopping several inches from her chest, not placing his right over her heart as is proper in Deryn. He is reletively certain the guards would not trust him enough to touch her and his intent may not be understood.

Looking into her eyes he says, "Slebthulan neth slebthulan, me'metlong yesthu" and he closes his eyes bowing again then stands, catching her eyes again, smiling, "Heart to heart, I greet you." He lowers his hands, "This is perhaps a more appropriate way to begin, I think." The words of his own language rolled easily and pleasantly from his tongue for all that his accent is so strange in the common tongue.

He looks down, picking up his drink, and not meeting her eyes he says, "Yes, I come to open a dialogue with your nation, that is why I am here."

For some reason he finds that he cannot look this woman in the eye and lie to her, yet he is determined to proceed with his mission.

Nathicana was no stranger to subtlety, nor did one get to and maintain the level of power she had in the Dominion without becoming rather adept at reading body language. Things were not entirely as they appeared with this gentleman. While the flustered reaction could indeed be a ruse, it seemed to indicate a lack of information on his part, and in turn, that of the nations he was said to represent. Exploratory in nature, this visit? Something more sinister hidden behind pleasantries and foreign mistique? More observation was definitely needed.

His greeting goes unchallenged, though both guards stiffen slightly as Marcus reaches towards the Imperatrice, while Jas quietly takes aim at the man's back from his position in the rear corner of the room. Once he straightens and moves back, the weapon is just as smoothly tucked back away, the cigarette never leaving the scarred man's mouth. Nathicana for her part, watches him closely throughout, ready to react if necessary, her pleasant smile remaining firmly in place as she calculates what moves would best render her guest incapacitated while remaining non-lethal.

"A pretty greeting, that," she says, taking a slow sip of her wine as she continues to study him. "Buon giorno, Signore. I account you well met. The honorific of course, is due to your title of Count. Here in the Dominion the title comes with such trappings and terms as 'your Excellency', you see. However, if you prefer, I could simply refer to you as 'Marcus', or 'Mr. Cole', or whatever variation you feel most at ease with. And, once we have that straightened out, please, tell me more of this intent to open dialogue."

Marcus meets her eyes again, his smile genuine, "Marcus would be just fine, if you don't mind. Mr. Cole would be my father. In Deryn we have our given name first then our father's name. Or mother's name for the ladies, besides, Duke cole wouldn't take to kindly to being demoted", he said grinning.

His eyes dropped from hers again, "I am an envoy, sent ...". He sighed then set down his glass and raised his eyes to meet hers again openly. "No. You have a humor in your eyes and a steel of will forged of necessaty. Just like the Queen of Dragonsreach. I refuse to lie to you, but I ask that you allow me to finish before having your friend back there put a bolt in my back from that starwheel pistol."

He took a breath, his eyes never leaving hers, "We both know that I'm not exactly what I seem. I'm a problem solver. At least that's what I like to call myself. The Lady Ariel says, Marcus, we have a problem", he shrugs his shoulders, "and I solve it. Of course most refer to me as an assassin, but I don't particularly like that word. I'm not here in that capacity." He stops for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

"You see, Queen Silverlief pushed opening the borders of her region and seeks to meet and open dialogues with other nations. We have little information beyond what she can gather from the U.N. on any nation in question. When this opportunity arose she had wanted to come herself, but her people and her father had forbid it. Of course then her father volunteered
and his military people forbade it. DREAD Lady held a connotation that they didn't like. So Princess Ariel came to me and ...", again he shrugged, "here I am. My assignment was to listen, find out what could and open a dialogue if I thought it might be possible. I was late arriving and so missed your ceremony. I also missed seeing you on the glass of moving portraits. In Deryn, one does not take such high office until well into thier four hundredth
year, usually higher. So I was rather surprised. I was expecting someone far more advanced in years and far less fair. But should you have proven to be evil as most would assume by your given title then I have the ability to escape and if I couldn't then I'm more expendable."


He stopped again, trying to figure out what to say next. "Oh", he said, raising his eyes to meet hers again, "as for the comment about being dead. The only other ruler I know who looked so young and fair and yet held so much power is a vampiress. I spoke without thinking. And so that should bring us up to date. I'll answer any questions I can, though the Lady or Queen or King might be able to answer them to your greater satisfaction. so I
place myself at your mercy for my deception", he said and knelt down bowing his head.

The raven-haired woman listens as Marcus speaks, her expression revealing nothing of the thoughts and emotions flickering behind the pleasant façade, though she does make a brief gesture with one hand as Mas and Pascali tense again as he begins his explanation of his profession. Jas, meanwhile, takes his weapon back out and keeps it trained on Marcus at an angle that won't endanger Nathicana.

Once he has finished, and is kneeling before her, she sits quietly for a painfully slow count, letting the silence weigh heavily in the room. With a slight rustle of fabric, she lifts one slippered foot, placing her toe under his chin and directing him slowly but insistently to look up at her, her expression one of cool consideration.

"There are none now living who have admitted to such a profession in my presence," she says in a deceptively soft voice, one delicate brow arched ever so slightly, her chin tilted up in that imperious way that those familiar with her know so well. "And few still draw breath who have admitted to active deception. In fact, the last person who came in a manner that I suspected I sent back to his master in a box." Nathicana lets her words sink in before continuing. "A very small box."

"So. It is the 'Dread Lady' you wished to meet and know more of? Then listen, and be educated, boy," she says, moving her foot more quickly than any human had the right to, scraping it roughly under his chin while pressing up, then resting it back down against the floor under her full skirts.

"To clarify things in your mind, first let me state that we are a race of simple, mundane humans, and our lifespans are limited. Had your government taken the opportunity to avail itself of knowledge publicly and readily available, perhaps this fact and others might have been clear, and you would have arrived here better prepared to treat with me. As it seems your information gathering skills are lacking, I shall be as informative as possible to cover for your deficiency." She pauses, takes a slow sip of her wine, then sets the glass aside.

"Our nation for some time has had a history of violent takeovers and regime changes, one despot being replaced with another - sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Though there have been more aged leaders than myself, it is not on account of long-lived reigns, but simply a matter of when they made their bid for power. Mine was made at a younger age, when the opportunity presented itself. The coup was thorough, I ruthlessly eliminated all possible resistance with an efficiency and callousness that earned me my title of Dread Lady. You see, here in the Dominion it has become tradition for the nation to remain the same, while the pre-title is given to he or she who controls it. Hence, The Dominion of the Dread Lady Nathicana it became, and remains. I have held my position longer, and suffered through more attempts to wrest it from my grasp than any of my predecessors."

"This coronation today," she continues, gesturing idly with her hand, her blue eyes still lacking the warmth of earlier. "This is the beginning of a new era in our nation. In order to maintain stability and ensure the ascension of the most fit leader rather than leave it to fate and risk the constant threat of upheaval and violence. While I have taken the appropriate title of Imperatrice, a dictatorship it remains, whatever the imperial trappings. Here, I rule, without question, in totality. If I seem fair in face, fine and well. The last I noticed a fair countenance did not preclude evil acts, nor connote goodness."

Here, she smiles. A cold, yet amused smile that shows no hint of fear or anger, yet holds a simple promise nonetheless. "I have the blood of thousands on my hands, and am more than capable of smiling sweetly while I drive the knife home and twist. Whether or not such things are seen as 'evil' in your eyes means little to me. I have always done what was necessary, and have refused to let my conscience get in the way of doing what was best at the time for me, and my nation. I see none of this changing in the future. Those who are our friends enjoy our friendship in turn. Those who have earned our enmity have learned to sleep lightly. We play a much deeper, dangerous game here in the Dominion. I begin to believe you are rather out of your depth, Marcus. So tell me. Why should I allow you to leave here by your own means, rather than sending you back by courier to your mistress?"

"So I find the one answer I sought to late", Marcus replied. "I gave you noe reason to let me go and every reason to do as you would."

"So now you seek to mock me further, boy? I asked you a question. I expect an answer," she says quietly, watching him much as a cat does the mouse its currently toying with. "In addition, I'm curious as to just which answer it is you think you've found."

Marcus looked at the Empress perplexed. "I don't understand how you perceive me to be mocking you", he asked in genuine confusion. "As to the answer I've found you said, 'Those who are our friends enjoy our friendship in turn'. That answers my question as to if we could trust opening any sort of relationship with your nation. That was the only thing I came here to find out."

"And so, your nation feels the best way to make overtures of friendship is to send an assassin, who is incapable of maintaining his cover? You came in the spirit of deception, and expect honesty and trust from us?" Nathicana asks, her chin tilting up a bit more, cool blue eyes fixed on his kneeling form. "I would have thought that in speaking with those who know us, those who have allied with us, those who have done business with us, that you could have found all you needed to know of our character and practices, rather than come on this, of all days, to insult us so."

A pity. I would have thought him to have more spirit. More backbone. He claims he missed the coronation, the subsequent coverage. Perhaps he is unaware of the tradition. Perhaps I should mention it to him.

Perhaps.

The Dread Lady continues to watch him expectantly, her bearing taking on an air of disappointment.

"As I said, they would not allow the King or Queen to present thier overtures. I was sent because both were interested but they were forbidden by thier military and security. Had the Lady or I begun searching through the Queens records then she would have known and we would have been forbidden ourselves. In my opinion thier people are overly protective, but I have no say in the matter. Both rule but unless the matter is one of emergency they put the matter to counsil and abide by the decision. That is why I have been so ill informed. It was the only way to come here at all. I chose honesty because of the fact that I was not here to spy or kill, but to get an idea of how you would hold to friendships or allegiances and then make contact if I thought I could."

Nathi looks at the man incredulously. "Have you no minor nobles, no diplomats, no ministers, no secretaries that could be sent? How under heaven does your government function if your leaders are so trammeled with such inoperable means? Who rules there, the leaders or their 'people'? The picture you paint seems to be one of chaos and dysfunction and crippling paranoia. Is this the image you wished to represent? Is this what you would have us befriend?"

"Actually they rule quite effectively, though, yes, they tend to take most of it upon themselves. The King does it with a minimal staff. The Queen does it herself except for her ranking military and a handful of personal advisors. As for judging their nations as Chaotic or dysfunctional perhaps you should check with your own intelligence. If you did you would see it ruled in a VERY orderly fashion. Thier people, as I refer to them, are thier advisors. I don't know how long ago you opened your borders to others but I'm fairly sure that when it happened it was met with a bit of paranoia. Such it is with them, having opened thier borders so recently. If it were not for the iron will of the Queen thier borders would still be closed and they would be shrouded in the same darkness now that they had then. But anyone who thinks thier nations chaotic are saddely mistaken. In fact they are run more orderly than my own peoples nation who DO have minor nobles, diplomats, ministers and secretaries, though I can't for the life of me understand how. In fact the King has ruled highly efficiently for two and half centuries."

"Marcus, you make no sense," Nathi says, shaking her head slowly. "First you tell me they are incapable of making their own decisions, and are ordered about by their underlings, the next you tell me they rule effectively and handle the rule of millions by themselves. You come here, uninformed, representing peoples whom I have never met, nor have any information on past what you offer me, then have the audacity to berate me for my lack of inteligence on them? You then proceed to compare me to them, using your own limited viewpoint to make broad-based inaccurate assumptions and resort to speaking to me as if I am a child due to the fact that I lack the years of your so-called rulers." Her expression, to say the least, is priceless.

"And this is the way you think to earn friendship and trust from the Dominion and her Dread Lady."

Another subtle hand signal. Jas murmurs something quietly into his comlink, and four operatives dressed in simple black enter the room, using the main door. "You have yet given me a reason to spare you," she notes casually as the men approach. "As I said before, the last person I suspected of deception and ill intent I sent back to his master in a very, very small box. I think I shall do the same here."

At her nod, the four move to take hold of Marcus, as she finishes her statement. "And when you reach your mistress, give her this message - When you are ready to treat with us on a level worthy of respect, send one who's mind works quicker than his mouth ... or hands. If not, the next one I send back will not be in once piece."

"I take it 'the slow boat' is the one you'll be wantin'?" Jas asks from the rear of the room, casually lighting another cigarette and smiling wryly, to which Nathicana simply nods, returning the smile with a predatory one of her own.

Marcus goes with the men willingly, not sure if the woman had intentionally twisted his words as she did or if how he spoke was unclear. His mind was still whirling with the incredible way his own words came out completely different when she spoke.

It had been a whirlwind couple of days. Crews were still cleaning up the last bits of decoration and minor damage throughout the city that had been a simple matter of overenthusiastic groups forgetting themselves a bit. In the spirit of the occasion, all had been pardoned, invoking the traditional offer of clemmency that she had announced at the end of her speach.

They were not the only ones, of course. She had lists of those who had been released from prison - those who could be reintroduced to society on a meaningful level of course, though in truth, the Dominion was not in the habit of maintaining large populations of inmates. Violent crimes were dealt with quickly and efficiently as possible. Those who it did not serve a purpose to detain who could either not be useful or not be 'rehabilitated' were eliminated. As was only right.

Several Families had over the past two days contacted her as well, beginning with the young Capo di Crimini, Lucano Genovese. She had always enjoyed working with his father in the past - a good man, Lazaro, though certainly not in the eyes of her more idealistic friends. Honorable within the bounds of the unspoken traditions of la cosa nostra, he had always been a good business partner and a reputable contact. From first impressions and the intel she had on the younger man, his son looked to be much the same. The other Devras Families had given their full support - there would be no war. Other groups scattered through the Dominion had made tentative contact also. It seemed in this regard, all would be well.

Reaching for her glass, she looked thoughtfully down at the list she had been jotting names and notes down on. She sipped slowly for a moment, letting the crisp coolness of her ice water further soothe her nerves, her other hand idly tapping the point of her pen against the paper.

http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/lists.jpg

There were some who had before been either unknown, or not terribly familiar to the Dominion. Their presence was noted and appreciated, some of them raising the estimation of the Dread Lady to a surprising degree. There were some who had been affiliated with groups whom the Dominion officially censured who were present. Their words, and in some cases, their gifts, had been taken under close consideration as well. Some were very much a surprise. Still others had maintained their high status in the Lady's favors, some endearing themselves further for one reason or another. Nathi glanced over at the little mouse card that now sat propped up on her desk, and smiled.

Several nations and even alliances, she was uncertain of, or were considered to be 'in flux' for one reason or another, whether for good or ill. They had made an appearance, which spoke well, however there were other concerns to be considered carefully. A few of these found their way onto one section or other of the list, and she went back to make a small mark next to the names, for simple reference.

Some had chosen the occasion to make rather horrible first impressions. Those were also noted, and in some cases, official actions had been taken on account. The poor emissary from DragonsReach had indeed been shipped back home in a box, albeit one with ample airholes. She hadn't heard how long the trip had taken. Unfortunate, that. He had been rather pleasant on the eyes. One nation in particular was quietly raised on the list of those to watch over, especially after the conversations she had had with one who, for now, was officially a high representative. It seemed that would change in the near future. The Dominion would have to be ready on account.

What was also interesting were those nations who did not take advantage of the opportunity to clear the slate, so to speak. Indeed, clear the past between us. Pity, I suppose. In some cases at least. It was not that it was expected, certainly not from some of the groups, but she supposed it would have made some things a bit easier. It was an old tradition, forgiving of old debts, old contentions, past 'sins' so to speak. Admittedly, she felt somewhat guilty for denying Alkanphel the benefits of that same tradition, but only somewhat. That was another matter, and did not involve just herself, nor her nation, though it would be feeling the aftereffects for years to come. She had forgiven much as it was. More no doubt than she should, all things considered. Where it would go from here remained to be seen.

Nathicana found herself almost daring to hope for the best.

Setting the list aside, she took up the stack of thank you cards she had had made especially for this occasion, gold embossed, inked in both the arms of the Dominion, and her new House in glossy black and red. Organizing them just so, she picked up her fountain pen with the chiseled tip, and began penning the first of many personal responses to the gifts and expressions of support that she had recieved.

A new age indeed. I wonder where it all will go from here.

-=Finis=-