"The Calling of a Healer, the Choosing of a Queen" Log Date: 3/11/99 Log Cast: Shahar, Khalid, Faanshi, Ulima (NPC), Amineh, Thalia, Anemone, Riana, Darius, Aurora Log Intro: Faanshi's days in Atesh-Gah have settled down into a fairly steady routine, what with the continued near-total absence of her mistress Kiera from her daily doings. Her prayers and studies with her heart-mother Ulima have continued, though the old priestess's health has become fragile. The servants of Atesh-Gah and those who are in charge of them have found her plenty to do, though the halfbreed finds her presence among the pureblooded shudra and naraki to get her as many subtle taunts and insults as it gets her chores. Some things, however, have served to add interest to the shudra maid's existence. Several surprising individuals have shown her unexpected kindness, ranging from two Atmans to a Sylvan shudra to an Empyrean child adopted into Clan Khalida. An Empyrean who is no less than her mistress Kiera's own father has been made a naraki in Atesh-Gah, and out of her affection for her mistress, Faanshi has been quietly interested in this man. And the young shudra has even had the good fortune to witness the arrival of a delegation of Atlantean nobles who have come to establish diplomatic ties with the Varati. But as it's happened, Faanshi has nevertheless thus far been on the very outside border of the most current events within the citadel. This, however, is about to change.... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Morning Date on Aether: Saturday, April 29, 3904. Year on Earth: 1504 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waning Crescent Season: Spring Weather: Partly Cloudy Temperature: Comfortable *==========================================================================* Throne Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven This massive rectangular area seem to rise forever; white polished marble catching the light that enters through the spacious windows on either side of the room and reflecting it throughout to dispel all shadow or gloom. The walls themselves are a work of art; the top half being the aforementioned stone, broken at mid-point by a border lovingly carved into an intricate design. Housed within the near foot-wide space is a pattern of interwoven bands of gold. The bottom half of the wall is sky-blue marble shot through with graceful swirls of cloudy white, once again giving way to pale marble for the few inches nearest the floor. Sturdy seats of golden-varnished wood, covered in cushions and upholstery of shimmering royal blue, are placed in orderly fashion at the sides of the room. Those who await the God-King's attention may rest as he attends matters of state. Dwarfing all is the raised dais of solid marble, upon which looms the throne of the God-King. A testimony to the art and craft of the Varati people, it practically shimmers in the resplendent light of the chamber, the same satiny hues of the royal blue upholstery surrounded by a detailed filigree of gold. There are two doorways in the room; the first, at the furthest end of the hall from the throne, leads to the foyer. The second is to the left of the dais. Shahar passes through the sturdy doorway from the Living Quarters. Shahar has arrived. Settled on his grand throne, Khalid shifts against the soft pillows as he gazes down on Shahar. Clearing his throat, he queries, "How does the Heir Apparent fare, Shakir?" His black wings dip slightly, brushing against the arms of his seat. In the background, the Agni-Haidar stand at rigid attention, along with their counterparts among the Akhund. "Should it please you, Amir-al," is Shahar's hesitant and indeed worn response, "he and the princess are in rooms guarded by Khalida troops; the prince is in a self-created trance of some variety. I have sent a request to the Nabi to see him." Inclining his chin to Shahar, Khalid's lips cut into a tight line, before parting again to make an inquiry of the Shakir. "What happened to you back in the forests? Did he invade your mind?" One hand slips downward, to toy with the fringes of his blue sash, while the other springs up and upon the armrest of the throne, as fingers tap idly. In the background, the sweet scents of the oil lamps can be detected. It is of no small measure of relief to Faanshi that Ulima is strong enough to be up and about today; the old wise-woman has risen from her rest in the chamber they have been sharing with Kiera Khalida, and has accompanied her young kinswoman on her appointed daily duties as well as bringing the girl along on several small forays and errands of her own. But it is over Faanshi's protests that Ulima insists on accompanying her into the throne room -- "For, my child, my hands may be old and slow for the task of cleaning that great room, but I am not dead, and I can serve the Amir-al in this humble capacity as well as you." How can she argue with that gentle logic? Still, as she is sent into the great Throne Room bearing vials of oil to refill the lamps and polish with which to shine them, Faanshi insists on carrying the items they need for the task, as well as keeping an arm free should her heart-mother require it for support. The two women, old and young, quietly enter the chamber now. At the door they pause, to submit to the piercing regard of the Agni-Haidar and be deemed safe to enter. Shahar's hands draw the gold-trimmed edge of her sari more securely about her shoulders as her flesh goosepimples from an unseen chill. "I tried to touch his thoughts and was shown a blackness unlike anything ever imagined, Amir-al," is her barely audible answer. Whatever it was has struck the very heart of the Shakir; even her unshakable resolve and impassivity show tendrils of cracks thanks to the strain. "It...is merely something that shall require concentration and meditation to conquer." Amineh passes through the sturdy doorway from the Living Quarters. Amineh has arrived. "Mm." A low rumble. "I expect you to train and study, Shakir. Your mind must be an iron-wall, a stone buttress against the probings and attacks of others. I am mildly disappointed that you succumbed. Still, you did well in discovering him as you did and therefore I am pleased at your overall performance." Khalid acknowledges Shahar's statements and achievements with a single nod, before gazing upon his court. It takes him a moment to pinpoint the halfbreed shudra girl, but when he does, he calls out, "Faanshi, is it not? Come forward." "Amineh Daaye ibn Jatla, Nabi to the Divine Flame," comes the announcement as the doors open, admitting the five-fold procession of scarlet silk. Two falcare-bearing Akhund enter first, followed by the Nabi herself, two spear-bearing Akhund following behind. The Akhund move to the side of the court, the Nabi stepping forward slightly; almost as one they kneel then lower, hands upon floor, forehead pressed to hands. And they wait. A whisper comes from the Nabi's lips, prayers uttered between herself, the floor, and her God. Shahar falls silent, eyes finding a spot on the floor as the shudra is called forward, and while she stands as usual near the Amir-al, shame sweeps scarlet through her complexion. For the following minute, she exudes an aloofness beyond the norm, as if she is present only in the physical. It does not take more than half a heartbeat for the Ushashti priestess and the shudra girl to realize that the seat of the Most High is occupied; Khalid Atar is, after all, rather difficult to miss, and already they have drawn as near as they dare to kneel upon the floor, heads bowed down to their hands. Faanshi goes down as gracefully as a young woman can who is bearing a woven-string sack full of oil-vials and rags. Ulima moves with the stiffness of age and recent illness, but there is still nevertheless a kind of pride to her bearing; she does not reach for her great-niece's shoulder, but rather, makes her obeisance without support. As her name is called, though, Faanshi starts visibly, head darting up slightly -- but only slightly. She glances sideways rather than up, in a flicker of panic at her heart-mother, and only when Ulima murmurs, "Swiftly, child!" does the shudra rise enough to come closer to the throne and kneel once more. "Most High," Faanshi whispers, pressing her brow to her hands. "The court may rise." Khalid's fiery blue eyes sweep over Amineh's form and her escorts, then towards Faanshi and Ulima. Ebon feathers stir as the God-King watches the young halfbreed in silence, as if measuring her worth with those immortal eyes. Finally, he says, "How is your skill at healing progressing, shudra?" His left hand abandons his sash, to rest lightly on his thigh, while his right hand continues to tap out his impatience against the stone armrest. Just as smoothly, though more slowly than her honour guard, the Nabi rises to her feet after kissing the implacable marble floor in respect. A soft rustle is heart, as a gnarled, henna-stained hand smooths her robes back into impeccable order before both hands are clasped before her. Again, she waits. Patient. There are stories told amongst the Atarvani, of priests waiting days, weeks, and even months for a reply from the Amir-al, without a noise of complaint. Too-black eyes focus on the halfbreed, and remain there. This one is another...Favoured...perhaps? Shahar is as she always is, silent and present near the throne, a simple shot of silk who moves only when bid by a higher power. And her gaze stays upon the polished floor, near to unblinking. Carefully, cautiously, Ulima begins to get to her aged feet -- and her bright black eyes flash a look to her heart-daughter, now several feet ahead of her. A surge of some palpable emotion crosses her wrinkled visage; concern, perhaps. But she remains quiet, for it is Faanshi who has been addressed and Faanshi who must answer. Once she stands, the Ushashti settles herself into a posture of deference, gnarled hands clasped before her breast, listening intently. Faanshi's reaction is even more palpable, as her slim frame goes abruptly still. She rises with rather more ease than Ulima, but still does not raise her eyes to her God-King. In a voice hoarse with nervousness and more than a little fright, the girl admits uncomfortably, "I... have only been able to do very small things, Amir-al." Thalia enters from the foyer, the doors closing silently behind. Thalia has arrived. Anemone enters from the foyer, the doors closing silently behind. Anemone has arrived. Riana enters from the foyer, the doors closing silently behind. Riana has arrived. Darius enters from the foyer, the doors closing silently behind. Darius has arrived. "Hm." Khalid utters the word and it is difficult to tell from his tone if he is displeased or uncaring. Fiery eyes reflect Faanshi's image in their deep, blue depths, before the God-King looks past her towards Ulima. Silence. The quiet breathing of the Agni-Haidar, the stoic regard of the Akhund. Finally, he breaks the silence and speaks, "I wish you to go with either the Shakir of the Clan or the Nabi Amineh to see if you may assist Prince Kuronbo. He has grave injuries. Perhaps your arts might aid him in his time of need." The God-King... wishes her... to do -what-? Color drains entirely out of what is visible of Faanshi's face, and drains as well out of her hands as she involuntarily grabs at the strap of her string-bag hanging there on her shoulder, to which she now clings for dear life. All she can manage by way of reply is a breathless little squeak of dismay and shock, and she goes rigid in apparent terror. Ulima takes in the sight of the girl's alarm, and then steps forward to join her, as quickly as she can manage. "I request leave of You, Son of the Dawn, to accompany my great-niece," she speaks up in her reedy but nevertheless clear tones. Like Faanshi, she does not raise her eyes to the God-King, but unlike the shudra, her stance still radiates calm. Amineh stands near the God-King's dais, henna-patterned hands clasped before her. Her honour-guard, four Akhund, stand behind her and to her sides, unmoving and alert, while her blacker-than-black eyes focus on the halfbreed shudra standing before the Amir-al. As the throne room's doors open, that honed stare slices to those most recently brought into the Divine Flame's light to see...winged munafiqun. The gaze cools, sharpens, intensifies. Ones such as...these...will surely have a good reason for their presence. Surely. And if they do not...the Nabi, perhaps, smiles beneath her veils. Ulima White is the first color to meet the eye when beholding this figure: a robe of white, set off against her dark eyes and skin and hair. Dark this woman is, though her dusky skin has turned sallow and wrinkled with her venerable years and hair that might once have been black is now a solid iron gray. Tall she is as well, standing at 5'11", though her carriage shows signs of beginning to stoop under the weight of her span of life. With her height and her darkness the eyes of most could easily pick her out as Varati. But her robe -- and the keen, discerning gaze of her bright black eyes within their nest of age-lines -- can speak to the knowing as marking her as a priestess of Ushas, revered Mother of the God-King of the Varati people. Aside from her robe, Ulima wears a white leyang, enough to drape about her frame and to cover her head, and sturdy silwar to provide her comfort against cold weather. On her feet are short boots. She meets the world with an unveiled face, each and every wrinkle visible to testify to her accumulated years. Shahar's eyes raise from their glassy gaze at the marble tiles to find Faanshi, and a flicker of dismay, even disapproval, finds its way into the peridot and gold irises. Bestirring briefly, she looks to Khalid for his reaction and any further issuance of command to this matter. Waiting for an opportune time to make his announcements, the herald takes advantage of the momentary lull in conversation to tap his staff against the ground three times. His voice rings out loudly and clearly within the court as he calls out, "Domina Thalia Jovia Tritonides. Domina Riana Corinthia Tritonides. Dominus Darius Ilarion Tritonides." Apparently the last of the entourage does not warrant an introduction. Flanked by the impassive and rigid Agni-Haidar and Akhund, the group is escorted into the grand hall which Khalid has made into his throne room. The God-King gazes down on Faanshi, then diverts his attention to Ulima, who he simply nods to in agreement. However, it is the new group that finally steals his interest and he settles back into his throne, waiting. Anemone, the nameless one who totes Thalia's bag, has her chin uplifted in a guileless display of self-possession and fearlessness. She seems to care not a whit that her name and lack of title was not bandied about the room, for pride surges forth as she trails along behind Thalia and Riana. Small and insubstantial she may be, but she is guarding the Domina's flank. Devoutly so. Now Ulima does reach to lay a gnarled hand upon Faanshi's shoulder, but this is a gesture meant to strengthen and console, rather than to take needed support. The Ushashti inclines her head swiftly and respectfully to the Amir-al, and a squeeze of her palm jolts the shudra into doing the same. Another similar, subtle gesture nudges Faanshi to step out of the way, for if the Khalid wishes to speak to these newcomers, it will not be Ulima and Faanshi who block his view. They move aside, but not far. Thalia moves into the throne room, her steps certain and her path guided by her Varati escorts. Her posture is straight, with her chin faintly raised, and she has Riana's hand in one of her own. As she draws closer to the throne, she releases it, sliding a brief glance to the girl beside her before focusing blue-grey on the dark God upon the dais. Her wings spread faintly, offering the woman balance as she dips into a formal curtsey. "Amir-al." The others, she pays them no mind. Khalid-Atar has her attention. Riana, the beribboned one who moves closely fixed to Thalia's other side, does not have her chin especially uplifted, but wide eyes do travel over the room and its occupants. She's been here once before, and so does not gawk quite as much as she might, but still she drinks it all in. One or two of the Agni-Haidar and Atarvani who guard the place have familiar faces from her last visit, and the golden girl lifts a hand to bestow a little wave and grin to them. Nevermind that she recieves a scowl in return from those who even deign to respond -- Ria is already being pulled along to pauses a step or two behind her mother. Her curtsey falls only a short moment behind Thalia's, managing somehow to resemble grace in its motions. Darius's jaw sets firmly, and now he moves forward to stand at Thalia's other shoulder. Opposite Riana, that is. He does not take Thalia's hand, but he stands at her side. That's something, isn't it? His nod of respect is hardly that. It is a slightl thing, almost imperceptible, and he does not avert his eyes, god-king or not. As the shudra and her mother quit the immediate vicinity of the throne, Shahar regards Faanshi for another, more assessing moment, then studies these Empyreans. Eyes glimmer like gemstones above the transluscent shimmer of her face veil, a near-unblinking examination...particularly of Thalia. Thalia Shadows grow long in the afternoon, revealing a subtle beauty so often lost within the blinding brilliance of the morn. Like sunlight shining upon gold, strands of silver play within her rich, medium-blonde locks and her loose curls are pinned up absently with slips of hair whispering against her jawline. Delicate features, brushed with the very fine lines of a woman who has smiled often during her lifetime, compose the symphony of her visage: high-cheekbones, a sweeping nose, a soft mouth. Anchoring her regal face are twin pools of blue-grey, the orbs being the colour of rain-swollen clouds. Half-lidded and framed by heavy lashes, her eyes possess the deep shine of intelligence and understanding--an unboastful confidence. Purity spreads in feathers of gleaming white, the soft wings of a dove stretching out behind her. She moves with an easy grace, marking her as someone utterly comfortable with herself--inside and out. Her figure, still rather shapely for one of their middling years, is covered by a chimere of the darkest blue, the colour so deep that it appears velvety. Although her clothing carries simple elegance, such finery does not a woman make. She is swaddled by an aire of gentle patience just as much as she is by the silk garments which drape her form. This woman is the silence after a storm. Grey clouds roll in an oppressive darkness, the fingers of the wind ripping at the earth and a violent downpour assaulting everything below. And then it is all swept away, leaving only ... calm. Anemone Wide amethyst eyes examine the world with patience and a surprising scrutiny from within the snowy angles of a classical Empyrean countenance. Her hair, like spun gold wound about silver tendrils, has been bound in a chignon with a few spare curls drizzled down a swanlike neck, inspiring an impression of ladylike charm. Her wings, unsurprisingly, are the pristine white of a pure-blooded Empyrean and sweep backward from her shoulders like a proud declaration of heritage. Youth is as yet on her side: she is within her mid-20s, or so it would seem. A chiton of downy silk envelops her lissome figure in blue the color of a summer sky, its edges denoted by skillfully wrought trim in silver threads. Sandals decorate her tiny feet, their metallic straps winding up slender ankles. A charm hangs from the silver chain about her neck: the symbol of Aphrodite. Riana A child still peeks playfully from behind golden lashes, but the body draped in silks of rosy pink clearly shows the signs of blossoming femininity. Captured in a moment of stillness, she is the portrait of a young Empyrean aristocrat. Movement gives more insight to her true being, however. As freespirited and unmindful of her surroundings as a yearling colt, she approaches life with a cheerfully abandoned innocence most could only dream of. Sunshine flows as a bannering froth in the fluffy expanse between white-as-snow pinions. Tied back with a pink ribbon, only a few loose tendrils escape to frame a sunny countenance. Nary a trace of malice, worry, or for that matter, thought, appears to have ever marred the delicate lines that compose the gentle sweep of a small nose, the wide roundness of pale cerulean eyes, the full lushness of peach-tinted lips. Darius He is neither imposing nor intimidating, but rather a retiring sort, a little shorter and narrower of build that those who might qualify for a soldier's role. Hair that matches the muted gold of sand is cut short and neatly combed, while eyes tend toward grey with the occasional spark of blue to give them life. The slight mapwork of lines at their corners, or the shine of silver amidst the gold at his temples, give away age. His features are sharp, though certainly of noble cast. Anemone draws up alongside Riana because Thalia's immediate sides are already occupied, though in truth she is a half-pace back. For whatever reason. She frankly assesses the winged God-King perched on the throne but has not yet bowed, curtsied, salaamed...even smiled, really. Too occupied, it may be surmised, in looking this way and that. Veiled although she might be, Faanshi's face, her expressive green eyes, nevertheless relay abject fright. She does not dare to breathe, much less speak, but the halfbreed's gaze fixes on the Ushashti priestess beside her and stays there in unmistakable mute pleading. Ulima leans in very close to the girl, close enough to murmur something soft, firm, and steady, something that makes some of that terror drain out of those leaf-hued eyes. Studying the entourage assembled before him, Khalid inclines his chin in a show of respect towards Thalia. Riana warrants something akin to that same gesture and so receives it. Darius is simply gazed upon, as is Anemone, with scathing blue eyes. Taking a breath, he focuses his attention upon his intended Queen and murmurs, "Thalia Tritonides, I have received your missive. It is your intention to fulfill the marriage clause of the treaty by joining in union with the throne and crown of the Varati empire?" His relaxed posture is tossed aside as he rises fully in his seat, perhaps adopting a more menacing stance. Inkblack eyes follow the feathered procession, seamed eyes seaming even more as they focus on one in particular. Riana. Eyes harden from ink to obsidian; one hand comes up, and absently strokes the heavy fire-opal hanging around her throat, as if the fiery glitter trapped within needed to be calmed and soothed. "Blessed are those whose actions show respect to the Most High," she whispers, a harsh snippet of breath that carries only a few feet. From the look levelled at Riana, the Nabi's opinion of the girl's sanctity...or lack thereof...is pointedly clear. The glare dissipates, smooths over, as her Lord speaks; attention returns to Him. Save the slight fanning of ivory wings, Darius seems unbothered by Khalid's scathing regard. Rather, it only serves to strengthen his resolve, eyes narrowing briefly before his expression smoothes again. Though she's nothing close to challenging Khalid, Anemone does not flinch below the fiery regard of the so-called God-King; in fact, for that illusive instant he looks upon her, she sends something of a smile back. Pleasant. As the moment passes and he makes his inquiry to Thalia, she then turns to regard the dignified profile of her mistress, and the smile blossoms full-fold. You paged Khalid with ' "Be at peace, child!" The whisper is soft as a breeze across new spring reeds, but there is strength and steel within Ulima's order to the shudra at her side. "You must calm yourself, and _now_. Your power is an unbroken horse, and the Khalid bids you ride. But you will not do it without reins. Control your fear!"'. If she is alarmed at all by the stance that the God-King takes, then Thalia is a master at hiding her fear. Calm, cool, and collected--that's her. And although the woman displays no intimidation, she presents no arrogance either. Her manner is held together by respect. The wings which had spread to gain her balance tuck in close, composing her figure with clean, elegant lines. She nods her head, once. "Yes. It is my willing intent." Those eyes now deviate from Khalid, roaming over to Amineh and laying their subtle regard there. Lifting from her curtsey, Riana can't help but notice the intent gaze that has fallen upon her. Beyond sending a dimpled grin in Khalid's direction, she turns that same smile upon Amineh. Perhaps she is jealous that she didn't get a wave also? One hand lifts and fingertips playfully waggle in the direction of the Nabi. There. All better. The seriousness of the occassion seems to have passed quite over her lovely head. Breaths go in, breaths go out, heart flows blood though her veins: life continues as it should for Shakir Shahar during this historical exchange between her beloved ruler and the woman he is blessing with marriage. As Thalia issues her answer, the Varati woman murmurs to herself, "Selah, so be it..." and nods once in approval. Faanshi is still clinging, hand over hand, to the woven-string strap of the sack that hangs off her shoulder. But as Ulima breathes a sharp, soft whisper to her, the girl does seem to calm, ever so slightly. Her eyes close and her brow furrows in concentration; to an observer, it may well seem that she seeks to control and deepen her breathing. Beside her, however, Ulima glances up with her crinkled eyes, taking note of the matter at hand... and of the Imphada Thalia. "The crown and throne of the Varati empire accepts your pledge. The people of the Neverending Fire embrace your entrance into our culture and kingdom." Khalid intones these words so very formally, without breaking the facade of stoic impassiveness. However, Riana's antics catch his attention and a slender, black eyebrow is raised in question. Those close to him can almost see his lips part in the briefest of sighs. It is quickly covered up, however, as he clears his throat, "I see you have certain members of your family present, Domina. Your daughter, of course, is always welcome." The strain in his voice at that statement is tangible and obvious. So /this/ is the one, the Queen-To-Be, is it? Black eyes meet grey-blue, and hold there. It is a...careful...stare. The God-King is watching, after all, and the Nabi wishes many more years in His service. "Blessed are those who willingly step into His light," she whispers, and bows slightly to Thalia, eyes momentarily closed as she does; as He says, so shall it be done. Shahar's eyes narrow above her face veil, and just visible below it occurs a brief pursing of her lips, each accompanying her observation of Riana's antics. Yet as Khalid speaks her gaze is lured toward him, attention his to mold as he sees fit. 'Accepts your pledge'? Darius grins wryly and shakes his head. Propriety be damned. Accepts her pledge indeed. Anemone peers around Riana at Thalia and beams an encouraging smile her way, the likes of which Thalia has observed for a few days now from this diminutive source of sunshine. At least one Empyrean is neither afraid nor displeased...well. On the surface. Another subtle, silent message, relayed from the aged palm of Ulima to the youthful shoulder of Faanshi: a nudge, this time, a directive to pay attention. The shudra's green gaze comes up, only belatedly registering that this Empyrean woman, this Thalia whose face she thinks she knows slightly, is to be wed to the Amir-al. Even as Faanshi's attention returns to her surroundings, nevertheless, Ulima breathes another whisper to her. You paged Khalid with ' Again, that breathy reedy whisper which is the voice of the Ushashti might perhaps be caught by divine ears: "Do not stop your breath exercise, Faanshi, but keep watch now."'. Antics? Antics? But..but.. Riana's simply being herself. Her smile widens to goofy proportions at Khalid's words, and she bobbles a pleased little curtsey in response to them. Now, to just convince Mummy... Darius catches her attention with some slight motion and she turns on the sunshine in his direction as well. See? Even Daddy has turned somewhat cheerful. Just look at that grin. Thalia's gaze holds steady on Amineh, regarding her for a quiet, stretching moment. At the woman's words, she simply inclines her head in a bit of a nod before shifting her focus back to the man that will be her husband. "It pleases me to hear that." she answers in reply to him granting Riana free visitation. "I assume you will extend the same courtesy to my other daughter." At this point, she slides a glance to that little golden bundle of trouble at her side, murmuring the girl's name in tones she would use when the child would forget her manners at an important function. Not harsh or angry. Just a very definate reminder. Be quiet. Be still. Darius, she has yet to even spare the briefest look towards him. Anemone's hand, the one not occupied with Thalia's bag, curls about Riana's hand in reassurance, in affection, and in a flittering of discpline. To punctuate, as it were, the sideways glance from mother to daughter. Aurora passes through the sturdy doorway from the Living Quarters. Aurora has arrived. "Of course." Khalid utters those two words a little less reluctantly than he spoke the original offer towards Riana. "Both may visit as they desire." His gaze sweeps over Anemone and Darius, yet again. He queries, "The girl is your servant, yes? She will also become part of the Varati empire?" His mouth presses into a tight, unyielding line. Anemone straightens again, swivelling her head so she stares into the twin cabishon gemstones that Khalid calls eyes. Though her overall demeanor is pleasant, even bordering on cheerful, nothing vacuous is evidenced in what the Varati ruler may espy in her own purplish gaze. Silent now, Ulima remains with her wise aged gaze upon the exchange between the winged woman before the throne and He who sits upon it. Her unveiled face has become impassive, concealing what personal thoughts she might have about this union of the Empyrean and Varati peoples, this melding of Air and Fire. At her side, Faanshi gazes in the same direction, though it is anyone's guess whether the shudra girl actually sees what is before her, with those fear-darkened eyes. The halfbreed stands there, trying to clear her mind and control her breathing as her great-aunt has taught her, to rebuild something resembling calm from her shattered composure. Oh, the romance of this marriage. It's almost enough to take one's breath away. Propriety and protocol, agreements and arrangements. The daughters can visit, check. That girl is your servant? Thalia nods. "Anemone has been with me for over eight years now and she comes of her own will in order to remain in my service." Check. Shall it be sealed with spit in the palms and a heart handshake? Probably not. Darius's grin has faded entirely. Wings are forcibly stilled, feathers settled again after they mantle briefly. This girl is your servant. Claiming her too? Darius' eyes once more narrow on the so-called god-king. At Thalia's proclamation, Anemone lifts her chin in affirmation of the Domina's words. She again studies the throne and he who occupies it, but a tiny sliver of a challenge exists, as though she were daring a denial for her right to stand at Thalia's side wherever. One of the honey-gold doors leading off from the throne room opens, and through it steps a figure -- a winged one. Yet another Empyrean has entered the midst of those in this spacious hall. She pauses on the threshold upon glimpsing the 'audience' before the raised dais and lingers there for a moment in uncertainty. Mist-grey eyes sweep over those assembled, resting on each in turn regardless of rank or position. Quietly chastised by both mother and servant, Riana makes an effort to quell her natural enthusiasm. Head ducked down, she shifts to stand more obviously at Anemone's side than at her mother's. Still, her curious gaze wanders over those present, going back every now and again to rest upon the God-king, or more specifically, upon his hair. One fingertip lifts to twirl a pink ribbon at her cheek. "Very well. This is acceptable." If Khalid looks upon Thalia with love or fondess, it is simply not evident in those cold, distant blue eyes. Feathers whisper against one another as ebon-stained wings rise in a grand display of plummage. "You who were once her husband, why have you come this day?" The God-King's voice is as icey as his regard and the benefactor of this attention is Darius. The niceties are recoreded by the court's scribe, attended to by Shahar and indeed well-noted mentally, but the Shakir has leave to observe what transpires beyond the immediate conversation and the details therein. Aurora's appearance is therefore not lost upon her, and she straightens a few degrees to see. Amineh stands slightly in front of her honour-guard, gnarled hands clasped before her in a neat bundle. Inkblack eyes move smoothly between those assembled before the dais and her God, finding a particularly interest in the one called Darius. Narrowing his eyes at the Divine Flame, is he? The Nabi sees this...and will remember. As noted before, she has many years of service left in her, may her God will it. Relieved, yes, a touch disappointed, maybe. Anemone breathes an audible sigh of relief when her heart's desire is granted, and an approving nod is sent Khalid's way. He won't notice, but she will, and that's what counts. At last, Aurora frees herself from her paralysis by the doorway through which she entered. With a muted rustle of silk -- both from her skirts and her wings -- she advances further into the chamber. By now, she has guessed what it transpiring, and so she calls little attention to herself, preferring to remain unobtrusive. Her gaze continues to dart from one visitor to the next. You're just not racking up points here, Khalid. Not that you care, but Darius does. And yes, he's narrowing his eyes at Khalid. Darius' lips thin, pressed together that way, but he composes himself and speaks with only slightly crisp words. "I am still her husband, no matter what a piece of paper may say. Paper can't undo a heart, and it's there that we were first joined. No man can undo that. Neither can any god." Get the picture? Darius goes on to say. "No more a husband on paper, I am a servant as well. Thalia's servant." Pay no heed to the wise-woman in white, or the halfbreed shudra in her red and blue and gold at her side. By far the humblest personages in the room, Ulima and Faanshi silently keep their place. The old woman's black eyes momentarily pick out the figure of Aurora, though; for a moment, Ulima's venerable visage lightens in something like a greeting to the other woman. Faanshi by contrast doesn't budge an inch, nor does she shift the direction of her gaze. The shudra's slender golden hands have moved to clasp at her breast as every fiber of her being focuses on the simple act of breathing in.... out.... calm. Calm. Calm. You sense Aurora's calm grey gaze rests on you for more than an instant -- lingering as she detects the worry in your expression. She may have been difficult to recognize at first, what with the new clothing and, more importantly, the wings -- but her eyes have not changed. They are as serene as ever, and might, perhaps, pass some smidgen of that serenity on to you. A tiny breath of a breeze whisps around you, like the gentle reassurance of a touch. Aurora Slender, small of stature, yet regal of bearing, this woman is an Empyrean through and through -- from the honey-gold hair swept up and held in place with pins and combs, to the splendid white wings extending from her shoulderblades. Her eyes are as pale as any Empyrean's -- ranging from a soft, misty grey one moment to a turbulent, stormy hue the next; depending on her mood. But such displays of temper are rare for her, and thus it is rare for her face to reveal anything but a serene, impassive mask. Her features are delicate and her face smooth and heart-shaped, with a slight, aristocratic tilt to her chin. Her clothing is elegant -- a simple, Empyreal-style gown with a low-cut back to allow freedom of movement for her wings. The color is a pale blue, and it matches the hue of a pendant that rests in the hollow of her throat. On her feet are thin leather sandals that lace up to mid-calf, and a silver bracelet encircles one wrist, completing the ensemble. Her wings hold a silvery sheen, suggesting that the feathers are healthy, yet all the same, they do not flutter and shift as many other Empyreans' are wont to do. For the most part, her wings lie flat and folded against her back, and if she moves them, a flash of discomfort might disturb the serenity of her face. Something, though, does then nudge Faanshi's attention, something that makes her glance Aurora's way. Green eyes go wide above the shudra's silken sky-hued veil. "This is unacceptable. Your request is refused." Cold fury underlines those restrained words. Khalid Atar gazes upon Darius with dangerous intent as he speaks firmly, "I will not debate with you matters of the heart. You may have one view of this reality, but I have another. However, your words speak of your foolishness if you think to question my authority or position." Leaning forward on his throne, the God-King seems all but ready to pounce on his prey. Even Aurora is not noticed at this point. "Leave my halls and return with your daughters. They need you most now." Aurora senses "Faanshi has, make no mistake, just recently been badly rattled. And as her gaze finds you, her eyes go wide in amazement. The figure... she knows that figure, but... the _wings_!" Wide eyes of blue turn slowly toward Darius, Riana staring at her father in a mixture of surprise and confusion. That sounded almost... rude. And she winces slightly at Khalid's reaction. Leave? Take her with? Butbut.. What about Mummy? Frantically, she takes a step forward to tug at Thalia's sleeve. Ria's not quite ready to give up her mother just yet. Amineh was...unimpressed at Riana's lack of decorum, but Darius's words bring an obvious coiling of displeasure and tautly reined-in affront. She straightens, despite a lack of previous slouching, and rivets her attention to the munafiqun that dares speak so to the Divine Flame. She waits for her Lord's words on the manner, and nods fractionally to herself as they come; silently, she thanks Him for permitting her to understand His wisdom. Even as Riana's hand tugs on Thalia's, so Anemone's fingers arrest the girl's movement beyond a step. "Domina, it will be all right, I promise," she whispers to Riana, meaning every scrap of it. "Your mother will be queen here. Not so bad a life." You sense Aurora's mouth curves in the briefest of smiles upon noticing your surprise. But it is a sad smile. She should be joyous, should she not? Her wings have been restored. And yet... those feathery wings barely move -- barely stir. It is as if they were a weight on her back that she would rather not bear. She fuels another soft breeze in your direction, equally intended to calm as the first. With the displeasure of the Amir-al kindling heat in the atmosphere of the great chamber, the Ushashti and the shudra keep up their appointed policy of remaining as quiet as possible. They can't really fade into the background, not out here before the God-King's throne with no wall anywhere within reach; thus, they simply remain quiet. And Faanshi, between the gentle pressure of her great-aunt's palm upon her shoulder and whatever subtle something it was that drew her gaze towards Aurora, slowly seems to grow less terrified, despite the obvious anger of the Khalid. Thalia finally looks to her former husband, now that the conversation has turned to him. One eyebrow lifts up faintly--a cool arch--for she, too, is interested as to why he insisted on coming today. However, as his words lash out off his tongue, she begins to lose her hold on that calm she had swathed herself in. This man has always had a special talent for that--to unravel her so. Mask pulled aside, her expression clearly reveals the thought that is racing through her mind: Darius, are you insane?! "Don't be a /fool/." she murmurs, the words hissed out from behind her teeth. "Go home and be a father to our daughters. For once." Angry? Oh yes, but in a controlled kind of way. She flutters her hand at Riana's tugging, a kind of 'just a minute, it'll be okay' kind of gesture. Anger sparked to life in Darius' eyes at Khalid's answer. The words, the justification were all there, just below the surface, about to be spoken when Thalia spoke. Watch Darius shatter internally while he attempts to keep it together outwardly. He takes a physical step backward. Whatever the god-king might have said, might have done, Darius would have weathered it or died in the attempt. Thalia, though, steals all his attention, drains slate-blue eyes of all true color and robs his complexion of hue. It is to Thalia that he looks, but to Khalid he speaks when he says with a voice filled with emotion held in tenuous check, "Congratulations, varati. Keep her. My wife is dead." He does not bow, does not back away. He turns and heads for the doors. Panic laces Riana's expression for the full minute she takes to stare from Thalia to Darius, back and forth. First Mummy refuses to let her come live here, and now Daddy is insisting that he come live here too?? Being brushed aside by Thalia does nothing to ease her concern, and, lacking any other comfort, she turns to bury her face in Anemone's shoulder. It's all simply too much for her to handle in her simple way. That Darius leaves, abandons her there amongst the strangers, goes unnoticed, thankfully. The last Empyrean to enter the throne room -- Aurora -- continues in her slow advance toward the throne. Not that she intends to interrupt, but she is seeking a better vantage point from which to watch the proceedings. Her presence has not been *unknown* within Atesh-Gah -- she has been seen in the gardens frequently, and moving silently through the marble halls. But this is the first time she has made so public an appearance. A few speculative whispers start up among some of the Varati assembled here, this night. At the hissed outburst from Thalia, and the reply from Darius, she slows, and watches both with troubled grey eyes. But she has yet to involve herself in any more direct a fashion. "Oh, he's going to regret saying that one day," Anemone prognosticates, turning a bit to follow Darius's pretentious exit. She hazards a rapid glance at Khalid, gnawing on her lip, and a wariness implies she might be expecting some fireworks before Darius makes the door. Then she is abruptly occupied with a shoulder-full of Riana's face, and automatically she embraces her comfortingly. Pat pat pat, there there, says her small placating gestures. Something else begins to displace the fear out of Faanshi's expression: Thalia and Darius's daughter. Calmer now, though her eyes are still darker than normal, the shudra steals a glance at the clearly frightened Riana, and what can only be compassion flashes across her face. But even now, Faanshi holds her tongue and holds her place, unwilling to think too heavily about what is transpiring before her lest the fragile calm that has settled over her buckle again. Hissing his fury, Khalid's left hand clenches into a tight fist, then explodes into nightmarish blue-red flame. A howl accompanies this display of magic, the eerie sound emanating from those ghastly flames, as if the God-King had summoned the souls of the damned to fuel his wrath. For a moment, it appears as if he were about to fling those terrible fires across the room at the retreating back of the Empyrean noble, with all the hatred and rage borne in his black heart. Yet, at that precise moment, a soft wind blows against his dark locks and ebon feathers and for some reason or the other, this quiet breeze seems to calm his anger. The flames die down and out as the Lord of the Varati sits back in his throne. At this, and only at this, do Faanshi and Ulima break their silence, and the only with small, sharp, unnerved gasps. The shudra blanches; the Ushasti reaches to draw the girl immediately closer to her, but Ulima, too, has gone dreadfully pale. Anemone has at least the presence to give Khalid an apologetic little smile above Riana's head, the type of smile that begs forgiveness for someone else's misdoings. The fiery display impresses her at least, that much is clear, and for all her casual acceptance of the whole Varati-Marrying-Her-Mistress ordeal, she is still pale from Khalid's show of authority and power. A breeze, that had come out of nowhere. And there stands Aurora, watching the scene play itself out from the sidelines. Her eyes had rested on Khalid for that instant when the slight wind stirred his hair, but now they slide away and move toward Darius' retreating form. Her face is seemingly placid, and utterly inscrutable. She alone, perhaps of all those in the room, did not display any outward signs of fear at the flame that shot forth from Khalid's fist. Thalia's eyes stay locked on Darius' as he congratulates the God-King, all the muscles of the woman's jaw as hard and rigid as stone. His words beat at her heart and, as he speaks them, she cannot help but to agree. His wife is dead. All the hurt and pain is gathered and tucked away, her wings flicking outward once before she settles her serene mask once again. He leaves. She does not watch. Drawing herself up a bit straighter, she turns toward the throne only to be meet the vision of all Khalid's rage. She draws a quick breath, a soft gasp, and takes a half-step forward but the flames retreat before she even voices her plea against them. What a day. And it's not even noon. Her shoulders slump a little, tension leaving them, and she goes to pry Riana off of Anemone, wrapping the girl in her arms. "Don't cry.." she whispers. "Don't cry." Darius moves through the grand doors that lead back into the entrance foyer. Darius has left. It doesn't take much to pull Riana away, after all, Thalia has been the prime comforter in the girl's life. Still... Riana had always considered herself 'Daddy's Girl', and despite the fearful display from the throne, it is the sound of the doors shutting behind Darius that seems to break her heart. Rarely have tears ever made their way to her cheeks, but now they streak downward freely as she lifts her face to Thalia. "Mummy?" she says uncertainly, "Doesn't Daddy want me any more either?" Another whisper, from the Nabi -- this one is not a snippet of devout and driven prayer. This one is a hiss, a sharp intake of breath. Outraged. It shows in her eyes, the way they flash in reflection of her God's holy blades. This...one, this /thing/...dared turn its back upon the Amir-al, the Most High Divine Flame? And /lived/. Her eyes remain on Darius until he.../it/...is gone, and only then turn to her God, as she struggles to understand His wisdom in this matter. O, it is there, surely -- there is wisdom in all His actions -- but it sometimes lays beyond her comprehension. Gritting his teeth, Khalid whispers to himself, "That man shall never enter my halls again if he desires to leave alive." A tired sound escapes his lips as he gazes upon the ongoing scene between mother and daughter. Leaving them to their own devices for the moment, his blue eyes pinpoint Aurora's presence in the room and he calls out quietly, "Aurora, Empress to be, I would have a moment of your time if you could?" Despite everything, there is perhaps just a touch of humor in his strained voice. Anemone is relieved of her burden (though she is indeed no burden, this gentle child) and, as Thalia comforts Riana or vice versa, the servant steps around mother and daughter to study Khalid lingeringly. Clouds may come over the Empyrean heads at this visit, but she will assert herself as a rare beacon of sunlight throughout. Perhaps she should have been named Hope instead. Thalia strokes Riana's hair, sighing softly. What a mess. Grey-blue eyes find Khalid and the woman raises her soft voice in tones just loud enough to be heard. "Is there, perhaps, someplace we could retire?" So she can calm her daughter down, explain that her father doesn't hate her, and keep family business away from the eyes of the Varati court. _Doesn't Daddy want me any more either?_ That one plaintive query, unsurely delivered, seizes and holds Faanshi's attention for a long moment. She gives Riana an oddly full stare, before the Khalid's new course of attention startles her anew. Aurora... Kiera's Teacher... _Empress_. Sweet Ushas! Can a shudra feel any more outclassed? Faanshi swallows hard behind her veil, and looks anxiously up to find her great-aunt's black gaze. Once more, Ulima squeezes her shoulder, conveying unspoken assurance. "As you wish, Amir-al." The compliant words come from Aurora's lips, softly spoken in a low, yet musical tone. Her eyes had been resting on the two Empyrean women, and for an instant, compassion was reflected clearly on her face. Yet she conceals it as she turns toward the God-King questioningly. Though they stand in the middle of the full splendor of the Varati court, for Riana, there is only the encircling comfort of her mother's arms. Numbly, she leans against Thalia's strength -- nothing else exists for her. Casting a faint smile, fond smile on Aurora, Khalid cants his head to the side as Thalia's request reaches his ears. "Of course," he agrees. "Shudra," and the word is spoken in Faanshi's direction, "Take the Queen-apparent to my chambers and see to her needs, the return here." He has fully settled back into his pillowed throne and his ebon wings have stilled themselves, somewhat calm. What's different about her? Haircut? A new dress? It's funny how the most obvious things can manage to evade a person's consciousness. It's only when Aurora turns to Khalid that the difference about the woman hits Thalia. She has wings! Her eyes open up wide--sure, she knew that the plan was to restore those feathered limbs but it is still amazing to actually see them there, tucked gracefully against her back. The God-King speaks, grants her request, and she just nods faintly, still holding Riana in her arms. Faanshi, again, starts. But this is a request far closer to being within her ken: accompany Thalia and those with her, and attend them. That is easy enough. "Yes, Most High," she breathes out, her voice steadier this time, clearer, purer. Her blue-saried head bobs, and then she pauses, remembering the reason she came in here in the first place: the lamps. Gingerly, she eases her sack of oil-vials and rags off her shoulder, uncertain what to do with it. Ulima solves the problem by deftly plucking it out of her hands, and nodding her own venerable head in a brief but unmistakable gesture: go, child, and fulfill the God-King's bidding. The Amir-al's Queen-To-Be, and now the Empress-To-Be...the Nabi's attention moves smooth as oil over stone to settle upon Aurora, and track her progress towards her Lord's dais. Her gaze has warmed -- if ever the Nabi's gaze could be considered warm -- since Darius's exit and the Amir-al's words on the matter, and remains on the Empyrean with the stock-still wings. Aurora approaches the raised dais, the throne atop it, and the dark-winged god sitting there. Her own wings barely stir against her back as she moves sedately forward. An Empyrean's wings were never meant to be so still. Once she has drawn close enough, she drops to one knee and kneels before the God-King, her head set at an angled bow. It is not quite the 'correct' posture for one of Khalid's subjects to use when presenting him or herself. But perhaps Aurora can be forgiven the lapse. She is Empyrean, after all. Thalia manages to pull her attention from Aurora's wings, her eyes tracking over to the movements between Faanshi and Ulima. She nods to the girl before looking down at Riana, pulling her from her enough to be able to peer into her daughter's face. "Come now.." she murmurs. "Let's go someplace quiet." With that, she coaxes Ria along and intructs Anemone to follow, the three of them trailing after the servant who leads them. "If you will allow me to accompany you, Imphada?" Faanshi's voice is as soft as her approach to Thalia and her daughter and her servant; her gaze remains demurely lowered, even as she gestures with a slim gold-skinned hand towards the ornate doors which lead towards the Royal Wing and the chambers of the Khalid. And in short order, the shudra girl and the three she has been instructed to guide away vanish through those same doors. "Aurora, I have pondered this issue for some time and I have decided to correct a mistake that should have been addressed a long time ago. Considering our history together, it should have been apparent that you had a place within Clan Khalida. With these upcoming nuptials and the terms of the treaty, it makes sense to right this wrong." Khalid clears his throat as he casts a parting glance after the retreating form of his future wife and step-daughter. Rising from his perch, he slowly descends the marble steps of the dais to stand before Aurora's kneeled form. "If you will accept this offer, I would make you of Clan Khalida." His right hand reaches out to gently brush back the woman's lovely blonde hair. Ulima smiles to herself, now; the Imphada Aurora, in Clan Khalida, sits well with her. And although the weighty bag which Faanshi had borne is a bit more of a burden for her aged frame, the priestess nevertheless calmly slings it onto her bony shoulder, quietly waiting for an appropriate moment to either speak if she is needed, or go and attend those lamps if she is not. Clan Khalida. The Divine Flame's own clan, the closest to His light and highest in His grace. Also, curiously enough, the one filled with halfbreeds, graisha and, now it would seem, Empyreans. This little paradox...intrigues...the Nabi, and her gaze focusses within, rather than without, as she contemplates it. Aurora's head tilts upward as the God-King's fingers brush through her blonde strands, and she lifts her mist-grey gaze to meet his fiery blue one. Her expression is as inscrutable as ever. With no discernible change in her inflection to indicate either pleasure or dissatisfaction, she answers, "I would be honored, Amir-al." "As would I," whispers Khalid under his breath, "As would I." A little louder, so all the court may hear, "So be it. On this day, under the watchful eyes of Ashur Masad, I name you Aurora Khalida of Clan Khalida. You are of the Royal Clan Khalida from this day on until your death and may no one contest this claim." The dark-winged god's fingers leave the powerful, blonde Empyrean woman's hair, so that he may dip down in a bow to kiss her forehead. He murmurs, "Rise, Aurora." "Aurora Khalida of Clan Khalida. As He says, so shall it be done." The Nabi's whisper is echoed by her Akhund, the words overlapping each other like four pebbles dropped into still water. Her head cants fractionally to one side, as she considers this announcement in light of the meny intriguing events that have come to pass this night. She does so, at the Khalid's bidding. The regaining of her feet is not as graceful as when she dropped to kneel, suggesting that her balance with the new wings is slightly askew. But Aurora recovers the momentary lapse with dignity and turns, her chin lifted, to 'present' herself before the audience. She has preferred shadows for so long, and strove to remain out of the limelight, but this once, she meets those curious Varati stares without hesitation. Chin raised, eyes cool, manner poised, she is, at that moment, every inch an Empyrean, although her affilation is with the Varati's most esteemed Clan. "Heard and witnessed, by the grace of Ushas, Holy Mother of the Khalid," breathes the white-robed Ulima, serenely. There is undisguised warmth in the old woman's bright black eyes, now. [And meanwhile, Faanshi escorts the queen-to-be and the others where she has been bidden...] The guards allow you to pass into the chambers of the god-king, Khalid Atar. Chambers of the God-King - Atesh-Gah - Haven No shadow or gloom may exist in this bright room, as white polished marble walls catch the light thrown from the wide balcony archway and reflect it throughout the room. The walls themselves are a work of art; the top half being of the aforementioned stone, broken at mid-point by a border lovingly carved into an intricate design. Housed within the near foot-wide space is a pattern of interwoven bands of gold. The bottom half of the wall is sky-blue marble shot through with graceful swirls of cloudy white, once again giving way to pale marble for the few inches nearest the floor. Portions of this heavenly beauty are obscured by long, colourful tapestries that depict scenes from the history of Khalid Atar. The furniture is of sturdy wood, brightly polished and finished with a golden-hued varnish. To the left of the door sits a table with cloths, a pitcher, and a large basin. Directly across the room from the door is are two long Arabian-style couches, meant as much for sitting as lying down, which flank a table covered in bowls of fruit, assorted breads, and twin bottles of wine. All cloth and upholstery, be it the curtains to the balcony to the left of the food table, or the covers to the huge circular bed at the far left of the long room, are made of a shimmering royal blue. Obvious exits: Living Quarters Riana enters the room from the hall outside. Riana has arrived. Thalia enters the room from the hall outside. Thalia has arrived. There is a first time for everything, and this is the first time Faanshi's humble feet have been permitted to cross the threshhold of the chambers of Khalid Atar. The thought fills her with nervousness enough to choke a wyvern, but her heart-mother's urging to control her fear manages to keep her calm. As she and the others enter the suite, Faanshi turns to curtsey to Thalia, saying softly, "If there is anything I can fetch for you, Imphada... water, or fruit, or pillows... I shall gladly serve." What an unusual little party they must make, the three Empyreans. Thalia guiding Riana along, the girl latched onto her as she cries her eyes out, and Anemone bringing in her rear. Not something that the Agni-Haidar see everyday, certainly. Once the destination is reached, the Empyrean woman turns weary, but grateful, eyes to Faanshi. "Thank you. This may seem odd but could you fetch me a brush?" Annie steps forward, wishing to be as helpful as possible. "There's one in here, Domina." The young woman hefts up the bag she had been carrying--see, see--and then starts to root through it. "I think then," Thalia ammends. "..that we are well taken care of." Although she seems quite lost and, well.. spacey, as she is led along, Riana does manage to perk slightly at the mention of a brush. Still planting herself rather firmly at Thalia's side, she does at least wipe at her face, and the tears appear to have stopped for now. Her chin remains lowered, however, and the normally perky girl is silent in her study of the carpets. Faanshi inclines her head, murmuring, "Yes, Imphada." Nothing more than that, as the shudra respectfully backs toward the door. For a moment she pauses, wanting to tell Riana that she is sorry for her father's abandonment -- but would such a gesture be welcome, from one such as she? She doubts it. And thus, in a whisper of her simple garments, the girl slips back out the way she came. [And in moments, back in the Throne Room...] Stepping back a single step, Khalid gazes upon Aurora with something approaching genuine pride. It passes in but a moment, as the God-King continues, "I need your assistance, as well. The shudra girl Faanshi is to help heal the wounded Prince Kuronbo. His fate is dire, but I know her powers are strong. You have been a teacher for so many over the years. Perhaps you can guide her in her use of magics in this most serious situation?" His black wings extend so as to lightly brush against Aurora's white ones. That fleeting brush of ebon wings against ivory ones brings a momentary flash of discomfort to Aurora's face, but she is quick to disguise it. "Of course," she agrees readily enough. "I will do all that I can." Her head turns to allow her gaze to skim over the audience once more. "Where are they?" What excellent timing. Faanshi emerges from the Royal Wing just in time to hear her name uttered by divine vocal cords, and the girl is caught for a moment between an instinct for superstitious dread and a wave of unmitigated relief once she realizes what the Khalid is actually _saying_. At Aurora's question, she hastens forward, back to join Ulima, kneeling again in the presence of the Amir-al. "Imphada Thalia and her daughter and servant are settled, Most High," she reports shyly. "Prince Kuronbo is in one of the guest bedroom, along with the Crown Princess Shinjukou, I believe. If the Nabi Amineh is not indisposed, I would also like her to accompany you." Khalid arches an eyebrow at Aurora's reaction, but whatever question that might have risen to his lips has been smothered. "As for the shudra..." blue eyes sweep over the court as he spies Faanshi's return. "She has just come back. This is all I wished to discuss with you in public. I shall leave you all to your own devices." Clearing his throat, he peers at Amineh once more and says simply, "You did well with regards to Prince Kuronbo, Nabi." Ulima, too, palpably brightens at the Khalid's new topic at hand, fears dispelled that his mortal subjects had inadequately informed him of her heart-daughter's status -- as far as the Ushashti woman is concerned, this evidence that he already had all the information he required settles the matter. What is left for her is to insure that Faanshi does what is required of _her_. Aurora's grey eyes find Faanshi as she moves forward, and the Empyrean steps closer to her, pitching her voice lower. "Lead on, Faanshi," she asks. Her preoccupation with the idea of a wounded prince requiring aid seems to have superseded her ideas of propriety, for she does not glance over to see who else the Khalid has asked to accompany them. Faanshi comes up from her kneel as Aurora approaches her. For a moment, there's a flare of wonder in the girl's face as her green gaze unthinkingly tracks the shape of her wings, as if she seeks to file them away in memory. "Yes, Imphada," she murmurs, her voice very small. She gestures nervously at the door through which she had just emerged, but does not yet approach it, not knowing whether she should wait for the Nabi. Ulima, in the meantime, serenely plants herself a pace beside and behind the girl, and her heart-mother's presence at her side distracts Faanshi enough to try to reach for the string-sack -- she's the young one, _she_ should carry the thing, no? Ulima, however, peacefully shakes her head. "You will need your hands free, my child." Prince Kuronbo. The name brings the Nabi out of her thoughtful contemplations, bead-black eyes once again fully focussed upon her God, Aurora, and the halfbreed shudra. She steps forward slightly, robes breathing out a crimson whisper, and bows deeply to the dais, eyes closed as she lowers, reopening as she straightens. "As you wish it to be, Most Holy," she replies, voice soft but clear, pitched to carry. "I will assist the Imphada and the shudra as best I am able." She looks towards them, but does not follow yet; a deeper obeisance is required, when given the thanks of a God-King. She kneels, forehead-to-hands-to-floor, and kisses the marble before she straightens. "My thanks to You, O Most Holy, for the blessings which allowed me to succeed." This done, she bows again and moves to follow Aurora, Akhund trailing behind. Ohhh, well then, it looks as if she is to lead... all of these people... out of the room. The Guest Rooms. Faanshi hasn't spent several weeks in Atesh-Gah cleaning a good bit of the place without learning its layout -- and thus, she can say with something like assurance that she knows where she is to go. She turns back to the throne, never raising her leaf-hued gaze to the God-King, ande drops him a deep curtsey, held for several moments, before she rises and shyly gestures to the others she is to accompany. Ulima, too, makes her gesture of homage to her divine ruler, before steadily hobbling to catch up with the young halfbreed. Old woman in white; young one in Khalida red, blue, and gold; wise-woman and shudra, Ushashti and... perhaps, just perhaps, healer. For a single breath their eyes meet, black to green, and they are unified in purpose despite all the differences between them. And after that breath, they quietly take their leave, trusting that the important Others in the chamber will follow as they will. [To be continued...]