"The Joining of Fire and Air" Log Date: 3/25/99 Log Cast: Shinjukou, Drusus, Vayu, Faanshi, Shahar, Callidora, Chana-Cari, Siranae, Niamh, Maat, Oriane, Altair, Anemone, Sakhr, StormBearer, Elania, Kuronbo, Hidenouri, Riana, Sunil, Madirakshi, Cepheus, Khalid, Ilex, Thalia, Faisal, Mohan, Rashid, Aurora, Zuhayr, Rabi, Medea, Leonidas, Tahira, Kala, Kaia, Yoritomo, Ranjeet, Alaia Log Intro: Word has been buzzing through Atesh-Gah -- and indeed, by extension, the entire Varati nation -- about the radical step that Khalid Atar is about to take as a consequence of the ending of the war between the Children of Fire and Children of Air. He is, in fact, about to marry an Empyrean woman: Thalia Tritonides. Such a historical happening is almost beyond the conception of an innocent young shudra who has had her life turned upside down by that very same war. But nevertheless, Faanshi is among the throng of servants brought to the heart of the Varati kingdom itself to aid in the humble tasks required to do honor to the glorious occasion. And she is alone, for Kiera has refused to come. Murako has disappeared. And her beloved heart-mother Ulima is too ill to travel. And thus Faanshi has none but herself for companionship as the momentous union between the God-King of the Varati and His chosen consort unfurls around her.... --------- Entrance Atrium - Ushas-Gah - Masada(#1651RFJ) Smooth black basalt stretches as far as the eye can see; the floor of the atrium blends seamlessly with the acres of the palace grounds. Only crystals of blood red feldspar mar the inky blackness of the stone. Two arcs of basalt pillars, in concert forming a semi-circle around the atrium, reach up toward the ceiling of the underground vara, disappearing into the darkness and suggesting that the distance is too great to view with even the brightest of lights. The atrium itself is uncovered, open to the vastness of Masada. Torches and black iron braziers filled with sullen red coals stand sentry beside each pillar; yet, despite their presence a bleak chill fills the air. A polished path, outlined with white moonstones, leads from the break point in the semi-circle and into a mist-laden darkness broken only by the red twinkling of the basalt's feldspar. However, as the mist moves in response to unknown breezes, birch-like trees, diademed not with bark and leaves but branches of alabaster and twinkling diamond foliage, break into view and, for brief moments, add their soft glow to the moonstones. Almost like a silver ribbon when the mist parts, the path twists through the grounds as a river of molten light, leading all to the home of the God-King. Several buildings touch the edges of the atrium, but the most prominent is the main seat of Khalid Atar. Bracketed by the two semi-circles of pillars, the building's large double doors stand open to receive visitors. Contents: Drusus Shinjukou Elania Vayu Shahar Obvious exits: Throne Room "He is quite well, though somewhat preoccupied." Shinjukou too glances towards the two Atlantean males, standing a short distance away and conversing without words. Then attention returns to those she herself speaks with. So difficult, this verbal communication, though the woman gives no hint of any discomfort with it. "And you are indeed lovely, little heart. I do not waste my time with pointless compliments. Truth is better." And so much easier. Lying generally requires ever so many words, and is less reliable when one is of a telepathic race. Comfortable silence is achieved after this assurance, leaving time for her gaze to roam the crowd, the not quite novelty of an underground city. Shame there's no water. A clatter of brass hobnails on stone betrays the entrance of Praetorians: four of them, immaculately attired in gold-chased armor and tunics of the finest blood-red cloth. Red is reflected in the bright white of their wings, the feathers seeming to give off their own light in this underground gloom. Scarlet plumes bob above their heads, thick red bristles that trail back over their helmets in long tails between their wings, Greek-style. All clean, all polished, all beautiful. They accompany a fifth man who, in comparison, seems plain both in features and dress. Drusus walks with his guard, all of whom are unarmed and doing their best not to indicate how uncomfortable this makes them seem...as if finding themselves in the heart of the lair of the Eternal Enemy is any less unsettling. Despite their central nature as people of stone and fire, workers of metal and for being cruelly vicious to other races... how much truth does 'common knowledge' really hold? Vayu may not show much in face or body language, statuesque and with plated visage as he is, but the lines his eyes draw - afire, this day - upon both Elania and Shinjukou speak plainly of humanity beneath the stony skin. "Elania, you would hide the sun to shame the moon; you have *always* been pretty. You just tended to hide it under a veil of dirt and grime," he comments absently, seeming to take a little joy in seeing her made sheepish by accusations of beauty. And here Faanshi had thought that Atesh-Gah was a grand and dazzling place; this had been before the young shudra had been briskly ordered to journey to Masada to aid in the Khalid's wedding, settling the whole question of whether she should go a few bare breaths after Kiera had given her leave to do so. The halfbreed in her Clan Khalida colors has reluctantly left her heart-mother's side, and tonight, presented with a list of duties seemingly as long as her slender arm, comes hastening as swiftly and as silently as she can towards the throne room's entrance, bobbing her head demurely to her betters as she passes them. Given that she is a shudra, this is practically everyone. How could the entrance of the Praetorians and their regal charge be overlooked or greeted emotionlessly by Shahar? Impossible. Leaving the Atlanteans in the gracious care of Vayu and his companion, their company apparently silken in social smoothness, she excuses herself with a bow and paces toward the future leader of the Empyre. Her four Agni-Haidar trail along like ominous rainclouds, without any fault to her or themselves (for such is their nature), as the Shakir places herself in an intercept path to the man called Drusus Jove. The Empyrean party comes to a halt at the Varati approach. The guards go to rest their hands on the pommels of their swords, swords which are not there, and they scowl. Drusus examines the Shakir and her Agni-Haidar escort with curious, empty eyes. When she is close enough he steps forward, leaving the sheltering closeness of the Praetors, and bows. The hard, sharp feathers of his hawk's wings scrape together at the motion. "Good day, Domina Imphada," he says. Keenly aware of the lack of his own armament, he clasps his hands behind his back. Shinjukou's water-whisper voice is lowered to give the pretense of speaking for Elania's ears only, delivered in a tone that is meant to be serious -- and only wars against the lighter gleam of humor in pale crystal eyes, "The Imphadi speaks truth, and in far prettier terms than I could have managed." A glance is stolen towards the Empyrean, a thousand and one details taken in in that instant. Dress, bearing, positioning, all are crisply noted, the study hidden behind the relaxed mode of casual the Crown Princess has adopted for the proceedings. "Pasiphae could only be proud of one who wears the beauty of the ocean so well." On silent feet, as swiftly as she can without causing offense, Faanshi bows her way into the Throne Room, anxious to go where she's been sent. You pass by the tall stone guardians that some call doors and enter the awe-inspiring Throne Room. Throne Room - Ushas-Gah - Masada(#2120RDFJM) Gleaming obsidian forms the walls, floor and ceiling in homage to the darkness of the God-King. Reminiscent, though a poor imitation, of the black stone that forms the swords of the Divine Flame of Heaven, the obsidian reflects back the light, rather than absorbing it. Veins of gold unnaturally marble the obsidian walls in abstract designs, an effect never seen in nature. Long contemplation of the walls tricks viewers into seeing shapes and patterns in the fine lines of gold, patterns which seem to shift, change, and move even as they are identified. Diamonds sparkle from the ceiling, twinkling like stars; constellations portending future and past are not hard to imagine. Despite being under the earth, the entire room seems to be among the heavens. Dominating the room's fore is a dual set of thrones on a raised dais, the seats of the God-King and his Queen. Upholstered in black satin shot with gold thread like flames, both thrones are formed of the same obsidian as the room; rather than gold, the God-King's is punctured by indicolite and lapis lazuli, the Queen's is striated with red gold and rose quartz. At the apex of each throne is a large gem, sapphire for the God-King and a ruby for his Queen, making them seem like a pair of binary stars. Extending from the dais in parallel along the sides of the room are ebony chairs, similarly upholstered as the cushions of the thrones. A clear space has been left in front of the dais, large enough for a performing troupe. An archway breaks the wall on the east, the shrine of Vinita beyond it. Huge double doors that may require more than one man to move stand open between the throne room and the entrance foyer. Contents: Medea Cepheus Callidora Sunil Altair Flower Niamh Chana-Cari Obvious Exits: Atrium Shrine to Vinita Callidora grips Altair's hand tightly as he moves forward. Nodding politely to whoever addresses her. Chana-Cari nods to each arrival as they come in. "Welcome, imphadis, imphadas. Please, You may go find a seat in the Shrine." She motoins to the correct doorway. Callidora has left. Siranae approaches from the atrium. Madirakshi has arrived. Niamh looks back to Chana-Cari to make sure she's all right before entering the shrine. Altair, Niamh, and Madirakshi move past the pair of stolid Agni-Haidar and into the depths of the shrine. Cepheus has left. Medea leaves for the atrium. Sunil moves past the pair of stolid Agni-Haidar and into the depths of the shrine. Altair enters from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Faanshi comes padding on silent feet into the room, her posture subservient, her gaze peeking timidly but swiftly out from the shelter of her veil. The shudra hastens towards the shrine, only slowing when she draws near to Chana-Cari and waiting for her to notice her as she speaks up softly, "Namaste, imphada; I have been sent to provide you aid... if you will advise me as to where I should be working...?" Altair leaves for the atrium. Chana-Cari smiles to the new arrivals. "Welcome, imphadas." she nows politely, her robes rustling quielty. Sunil enters from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Sunil leaves for the atrium. Maat has arrived. Elania, Shinjukou, Vayu, and Altair approach from the atrium. Altair moves past the pair of stolid Agni-Haidar and into the depths of the shrine. Callidora approaches from the atrium. Maat gives Chana-Cari an approving nod as she moves through the room as a blur of color, checking on the placement of packages and the locations of shudra and naraki. All too quickly, she disappears into the shrine. Vayu, Maat, and Shinjukou move past the pair of stolid Agni-Haidar and into the depths of the shrine. Chana-Cari smiles to Faanshi. "I do not know. You should ask my mother, Maat." She turns back to the new arrivals and bows. "Imphadas, Imphadis. Welcome. Please, You may be seated in the Shrine." Again she points to the correct door. "Gifts may be placed by the dais." Elania moves past the pair of stolid Agni-Haidar and into the depths of the shrine. Chana-Cari turns back to the new arrivals and bows. "Imphadas, Imphadis. Welcome. Please, You may be seated in the Shrine." Again she points to the correct door. "Gifts may be placed by the dais." Chana-Cari bows. "Please, All to the shrine, the ceremony starts shortly." She turns and heads to the shrine herslef. Chana-Cari and Callidora move past the pair of stolid Agni-Haidar and into the depths of the shrine. As you journey past the plants, the breeze of your passage causes the leaves to tinkle musically. The Agni-Haidar are like stone, entirely lacking motions as you pass into the depths of the shrine. Shrine to Vinita - Ushas-Gah - Masada(#2117RFJn) Matte black stone, solemn and contemplative, forms the basis of the shrine. Sight and sound disappear into the deep shadows lurking above and at the edges of the room. Oval, the shrine forms a true ellipse; one focus is the raised dais at the front, the other focus is the rows of pews. Along the perimeter of the shrine, a wide trough spews yellow tongues of flame into the air, backlighting a series of pictures. Each picture is carved from paper-thin black rock. The incisions create a silhouette that resolves into various images of the darkling heroine Vinita, patriot and Dai, in the various actions of her life that led to her immortalization in legend and lore. The dancing flames make Vinita appear to move, as if her spirit and soul were captured in each silhouette. The entire length of her life is told: from her rejection of her Empyrean heritage, to her plea for the God-King to take her into service, to her leading the charge against Civitas Dei. At the end of her story sits a tall glass case holding two items: Vinita's medallion of the Dai and a crystal orb whose dark, milky interior contains her ashes. At this place, the ring of fire is broken by the presence of a pair of stoic Agni-Haidar and a watchful Atarvani Akhund. Rows of pews stretch into the nether regions of the darkness, illuminated only by a single lantern at the end of each row. Each lantern is enclosed by a casing of red quartz, giving the impression of warmth. A tier of red wax candles, for those seeking solace or meditative quiet in the dark embrace of the shrine, sits to the right of an archway that allows egress into the throne room. A path stretches through the middle of the pews from the archway to the dais. Contents: Callidora Chana-Cari Elania Shinjukou Maat Vayu Altair Anemone Madirakshi Niamh Oriane Riana Sakhr Ilex Hidenouri StormBearer Thalia Khalid Obvious exits: Throne Room Siranae enters from the Throne Room, past two Agni-Haidar providing excellent renditions of stone. Already in the shrine, Oriane stands uncertainly with her sister in the front pew in a place reserved for the two daughters of Thalia. Wearing Varati clothing rather than Empyrean garb, she rustles black wings with faint agitation while letting her eyes wander over the walls and the story of Vinita, a dark Empyrean so like, and unlike her. Altair walks in with Callidora, as they hold hands. His fingers interlace with hers as he stretches out a wing to wrap around her. "Let's go find a place to sit...." Shahar and Sunil enter from the Throne Room, past two Agni-Haidar providing excellent renditions of stone. Chana-Cari enters, a slight flush on her cheeks. She promptly heads to her mother's side. Faanshi slips into the shrine, swallowing hard as she realizes that the most important personages in Ushas-Gah are already present in this place. For the Khalid and his Queen-to-be, the shudra halfbreed pauses to kneel and press her forehead to the floor. Only after a long moment does she rise to station herself somewhere unobtrusive, seeking out seats with peeks of her leaf-hued gaze so that she might point them out to those nobles of all races who are congregrating in the mighty chamber. Anemone is tucked beside Oriane and Riana, attentive and bright-eyed, awaiting word of being needed, awaiting the spectacle of the wedding, awaiting, perhaps, the food after. Her fingers busy themselves with twisting her bracelet 'round her wrist while her eyes dance this way and that, a nervous tango of anticipation. Maat stands by the door and briskly directs latecomers to the various seats still available in the pews. People are quickly sorted based on size of party and sent off into the darkness under escort by a shudra or a naraki so that they do not become confused. Vinita's shrine, a place dedicated to perhaps the most well known darkling Empyrean in all of history, is often only infrequently visited. On this day, however, it is filled to the brim with the people of Aether. Representatives from all the various races have made their way to the underground capital of the Varati empire and to the seat of power, Ushas-Gah. The royal courtiers have been preparing around the clock in order to meet the demands of this special day. The walls are lined with the silver and black attired Agni-Haidar. Their vigil, if possible, is greater than ever before armed as they are and ready for any danger. They are complemented by the red-robed Atarvani Akhund. Many other higher ranking members of the priesthood are also seen mingling among the crowds. Elderly Nabi and Imam take their place to watch the wedding of their god. Callidora promptly follows Altair, her noble breeding showing in the way she gracefully move in smooth fluid movements with every step, her chiton clinging to her slender form. She is quite in awe of such an event like this though. Aurora has arrived. Would that the shrine stretch out into monolithic infinity, a hollow song of the souls and minds of the Varati - they would wait, chanting Khalid's name as a mantra against hoplessness, and greet him and his bride with one fist upraised in defiance of tradition. Alas, it is not to be, and all that remains is the cream of the political crop - those that are the highest-ranking of all peoples, and the close friends of the bride. Calm itself strides into the shrine, with long easy steps and dark eyes gliding around the room before the Warlord of Behzad enters further. A young slave catches the man's attention and directs him to his seat promptly. Niamh moves into the shrine, offering obesiance to the God-King and his soon-to-be Queen. Silent prayers are on his lips and his mind as he moves to one of the quieter pews in the shadows. StormBearer strides into the shrine, Hidenouri close behind, sitting near the back so as to observer the people easily. His herald's cloak is held tightly around him, and the crow upon his shoulder seems to be showing, of all things for an animal, repect in its posture. Petra has arrived. Elania accompanies Vayu and the other attending Orcinus -- Shinjukou, Kuronbo, and Yoritomo -- in an excited little flurry of fringed silk and tiny, chiming bells. Greengold eyes are rapt and wondrous-wide, trying and failing to look at everything and everyone at once, altogether overwhelmed with the whole affair. A pair of Atlanteans enter, both tricked out in the finest of flowing robes -- worn solely for the considerations of modesty imposed by their hosts, no doubt, but worn with regal grace to be sure. Orcinus Kuronbo, Decemvirate-Apparent, walks alone now, his First Domo Orcinus Yoritomo having fallen back to walk not far from the Crown Princess, Shinjukou. The Princess accompanies both Vayu and Elania, contemplative gaze skimming her surroundings briefly before focusing upon the true centerpiece -- the dais. Murmering a quiet excuse to her companions, she and the majordomo part ways with Sylvan and Varati, to follow the Orcinus Heir. A pew is chosen in which to rest feet still somewhat unused, in Shinjukou's case, to the rigors of extended walking. More and more people arrive, filling the shrine and pulling Oriane out of her contemplation of the both revered and infamous Vinita. Turning to glance behind her at those assembling, dark eyes register surprise to see many familiar faces from Haven having made the arduous and long journey to Masada for the wedding. Empyrean faces only serve to heighten her self consciousness, making her super aware of her coloring's similarity to the woman honored here and to the foreign clothing gracing her form. Hidenouri follows the Zephir, her stride slow on the stone floor. Her face is impassive, but her eyes flicker around the room, with obvious interest and excitement. She quickly takes a seat beside StormBearer. Medea and Cepheus enter from the Throne Room, past two Agni-Haidar providing excellent renditions of stone. Shahar's entry is the accompaniment of Drusus and his band of oddly unarmed Praetorians, her four Agni-Haidar nearby as per the norm. As she nears the front of the shrine, she pauses long enough to offer obeisance to the front - how *does* she kneel and bow so facilely in that sari? - before a backward glance checks the position of Drusus et al. In the monlithic infinity so wished for, there would be one - close enough to the throne to be marked important, yet far enough not to seem overly ambitious; he would be dressed in white, and bear himself quietly on wings of austerity that would smother any who was not consummately sure of himself or of regal nature. He would be clad entirely in white, his hands would be clasped behind his back with squared shoulders and feet, and his name would be Vayu - he would stare, ever watchful, upon any who would look upon his god-king. Tucked. Yes, Annie, tucked is a good word, and it suits Riana's positioning to a T. She's been placed on her bench, like a doll put on display, and sits in as still a pose as she can hold. Though her eyes work curiously through the crowds, her mouth is held tightly closed. Yep, she's been tutored well in her duties for the day. Sit quietly, don't talk too much, and smile. Tucked away among the crowds, near the rear of the shrine, the mostly unobtrusive form of the slim Varati, Sunil, bows as is appropriate for one sharing a room with a God. Moving then to find a place in the vaulted hall, he walks where directed to a place among the numerous Varati present who are of little import. A rather nondescript arrival, Madirakshi enters with all the pomp of a church mouse, reserving the glory to those which it is due. A smattering of silent steps upon the polished floor fail to echo within the hallowed walls, it is uncertain whether the vacuous quiet is deliberate or drowned out by the buzzing din of the ceremonial congregation. Yet the shechah dallies not a moment find a place among other messengers of the one and only God. Drusus enters from the Throne Room, past two Agni-Haidar providing excellent renditions of stone. So... many... people. Alone -- with neither Kiera nor Murako nor Ulima to provide her consolation or compansionship -- Faanshi focuses upon making herself a silent presence in scarlet and royal blue and gold, guiding important persons to their places and asserting her presence only as an occasional softly murmured word or a gentle gesture of a slender golden hand. Madirakshi bows deeply along with them, catching a glance at the world below. Rabi enters from the Throne Room, past two Agni-Haidar providing excellent renditions of stone. As quiet an entrance as a group of three people might make, the Archon of Haven, Cepheus Tritonides arrives with a pair of women at his sides. The first holds his arm and stands close, the ArchMagus Medea Somnaire. The other remains near, though does not touch, the Avatarati Maya. The trio looks about until a seat is found, then quietly make their way while offering nods and quiet acknowledgments to those they see in passing. Fingers curling around Riana's hand, Anemone murmurs, "Smile, Domina, because today is for your mother's glory and honor. Show everyone the gems she has already given the world!" The clarion call of the single royal herald of Clan Khalida initiates the procession. Black and silver, dressed in their finest, four of the Agni-Haidar march forward through the center of the shrine, between the pews. Following them are four of the red-robed Atarvani. Markings on their robes signify their status -- all of them are Imams. A deadly and impressive mix of black, silver and red. It is the next figure, who draws real attention, however. Khalid Atar, God of Immortality, Fire, War and perhaps even Creation itself, strides with purpose and poise, after the entourage assembled in his honor. Dressed in the finery of his Clan and bearing his infamous twin ebon blades, he moves towards the front of the shrine. Dark wings, glittering with the dust of stars, are folded gracefully against his back. Ending this display is yet another four red-robed Imam and a final set of Agni-Haidar. Altair motions to Callidora with a bow, allowing her to sit before he does. He takes a moment to look around at the crowd, then shakes his head a moment. "Large weddings... Gods, please let me have just a small wedding in the near future, and I'll be most happy." he mutters it to himself, as if a silent prayer. Zuhayr enters from the Throne Room, past two Agni-Haidar providing excellent renditions of stone. Ilex enters the shrine in much the same manner as her fellow Herald Stormbearer: striding and with her cloak tightly wrapped about her. Her long red braid swings about as she looks at the people assembled. Finally she seats herself next to StormBearer and Hidenouri. How plain next to the finery of his guards, his head uncovered while theirs bear the manificent bronze helms with their Greek-style plumes of bright scarlet. Drusus looks like a civilian next to them. He bows towards the front, inclining his head towards the King of the Varati and his Queen to be, and then steps off to the side. His guards likewise bow and array themselves behind him. Leonidas enters from the Throne Room, past two Agni-Haidar providing excellent renditions of stone. Siranae comes in place with those of the Delphi delegation, her gown of royal blue silk and ivory rustling slightly in the vaulted spaces as she moves forward. Neither to the right nor left does she look before taking her place as well within the honored guests of this company. Mohan enters from the Throne Room, past two Agni-Haidar providing excellent renditions of stone. Another cry from the herald's trumpet lifts into the air, the sound rolling through the chamber to hush the crowd with its singular note. It announces another procession, one which paces through the room on measured steps. First, Agni-Haidar guards, all silver and black. Next, the soft sway of red-robes as Atarvani trail in their wake. And then, splendor translated in white, silver and gold, this Empyrean woman who will be Queen. The gleaming purity of her wings has been dusted with gold and silver, catching light like stolen sunshine upon water and matching the aureate silks which swaddle her form. Her face is calm and this is for all to see, for she wears no veil, and the quiet confidence of her stride is guided by two of the followers of Ushasti, one on either side of her. She makes her way forward, joining Khalid Atar at the front of the shrine. If she is nervous, she does not show it, simply taking her place before the cyrstal case. Chana-Cari moves away from teh door, and her mother's side, to join a nearby pew. She quietly bows to niamh and sits beside him, nervous from being in the presence of a god and so many people. Dark eyes, attempting to hide a troubled expression in a gentle face, look behind to watch the arrivals. For a moment, Oriane's eyes widen and then she turns to face front, biting the inside of her lip. Hearing Anemone's words, she turns and looks at her sister and the long time family servant. Glancing to her hands in her lap, she takes a deep breath and then looks up towards the arrival of Khalid and then her mother. Her -mother-. Maat continues to direct guests to the last few available seats, then takes a seat in the backmost pew. Her eyes glow with pride as she loves over the workmanship of her clan's premier tailor, Ranjeet, and how it hangs most beautifully on Khalid Atar and Thalia. No sooner does the procession enter the shrine or people rise when they were seated, Sakhr Behzad no exception, waiting for his King and God to reach his destination. Awe is in his eyes, much like from one who is looking at a lifelong idol. The Queen to be is watched entering with less awe, a more weighing expression, but no less respectful. Faisal has entered from another direction and stands near the front, his cold ebon gaze raking out of the crowd, distrusting every one of them that is not clad in his kind's black and silver. Rabi lowers herself to her knees and bows to the front and the god standing there, and to the Empyrean he has taken for his own. She rises and slips through the crowd, then, to find her place beside and behind the Agni-Haidar Nayaka. The entrance of the procession and the god-king distracts Riana from her response to Anemone. With a practiced move, she carefully rises from her seat and bends to a gracefully arc-winged low bow. It's obvious she's been working on this for days, at least, and she achienves the move passably well. The Shakir of Clan Khalida, staring with unbridled joy and admiration as the God-King passes by, murmurs unbidden, "Hail to the Amir-Al; may he live a hundred thousand thousand years!" before the arrival of the Queen Apparent steals what breath remains from her throat, and her bow is deep and heartfelt. Mohan moves into the room. A gasp escapes the giant as he seeks a shadow. The God-King Himself. Hide in shadow. He finds the darkest close one. and slumps his form into it. And there, standing before the crystal case of Vinita's remains, waiting with infinite patience in his regalia of crimson silk, is the Imam Rashid. To his side is a shaped-stone pillar; atop it is the Queen's Crown, elegant and exquisite upon its red pillow. Behind him and to his sides is a semicircle of twelve Imam, bearing the same serene joy Rashid's face shows. This is their God-King's highest moment; through Him, it is theirs as well. And nothing shall go wrong. The Imam waits for his King and Queen-To-Be to assume their places, then holds his hands out and up, palms upturned, waiting for silence. Once it has fallen, his hands return to his sides and he speaks. His voice is clear and deep as a bronze bell, burnished with years of service, as he says, "In the names of Ashur Masad, Father of the Divine Flame, and Ushas, Mother of Dawn, I welcome and bless all who have come here to witness the joining of Khalid Atar and Thalia Jovia Tritonides. Through the joining of these two, may our races be free of turmoil at last and a new future be seen." Callidora smiles at Altair and holds his hand tight. Her attention strays to the God-King and his Empyrean Queen as the ceremony begins Niamh offers a nod and a small smile to Chana-Cari as she sits beside him but his attentions is drawn back almost immediately to the ceremony. Amid so many faces, both foreign and familiar, dark-skinned and light, winged and ground-bound; one more hardly makes a difference. Aurora is an unobtrusive presence within the shrine; a pale, fey creature with serene grey eyes and folded wings. She stands in attendance, watching the faces of the various arrivals, and her gaze lingers most especially upon the proud, dark-winged figure of the God-King. The second procession drags her attention away at last, so that she might settle her regard upon the woman who will be Queen. Unnoticed amid the crowd, a vague smile curls her lips; one of approval, perhaps. Nodding concurrence to this initial sally from the Imam, Anemone squeezes Riana's hand all the more and beams at Oriane as if to say, See? A day of joy. Don't worry; be happy. As many folk seated as she can escort before the procession begins, Faanshi melts to a position at the very outer reaches of the shrine. She clasps her hands at her breast, incapable of speech, very nearly incapable of breath, as the spectacle begins to unfold before all those assembled. Now no longer aware of the gathering even as nothing more than a mighty crowd in which she is a single shudra worthy of no notice, the halfbreed girl gazes with fervent, reverent eyes upon her God-King. Altair is gentle with Callidora's hand, caressive. He looks to the God-King and his Queen-to-be, watching in quiet silence. Like a parting sea of red, black and silver, the Agni-Haidar and the Imam veer off to the sides and take their place, watching, as Khalid stands before Imam Rashid Khalida. Ebon wings part slightly, then fold against his back once more as the God-King of the Varati awaits his bride-to-be. Silky black hair has been left free and uninhibited, so as to fall in waves to his waist. Atop his brow, the crown of the Varati empire sits, glittering with the reflections of the fires of Vinita's candles. Crystal blue eyes, fiery and intense as always, regard the face of the aging Imam, before cutting to the side so as to watch Thalia's approach, before another glance is spared to those who have come this day. He is otherwise utterly impassive and silent. Zuhayr, present among those black-and-silver clad warriors, stands as rigidly as his brothers-in-arms, though his eyes, like the Nayaka's, do not cease moving. He stands across from the Nayaka, the better to catch those who might seek a time and place to voice their disagreement, especially here and now. Don't worry; be happy. So easy to suggest and attempt, but it is not quite within Oriane to completely hide away her emotions. Not anymore at least. Raven black wings flutter slightly behind her, dusted in the sparkle of silver and gold as decoration. For now, she watches Thalia move to the side of the man to become her husband. Chana-Cari watches the god-king in awe, eyes not straying once. She doesn't even look away to see where her mother sits. Her wings flare briefly, a motion that seems a light reflection to the God-King's dark. White and black, soft and hard. Where he is the blazing fire, she is the cool air. So different. Can there truly be a new future, free of turmoil, when there are such extreme constrasts involved, contrasts that lay like a vast river parting the two? Time. Time will tell. For the present, Thalia simply turns soft-grey eyes to Imam Rashid Khalida, after affording Khalid Atar a swept glance--a brief touch of her gaze over the planes and angles of his face. Rabi folds her hands in front of her, eyes drinking in the sight of /everything/ with a deep and eager thirst. They shine with her joy at the day, the events of the day, at the history of it all. And here stands the mouse, to see it, to be a part of it. The honor of it fills her heart. She glances up at the chill and forbidding form of her Imphadi but even his stern and earnest countenance can do naught but make her grin happily under her veil. Golden eyes return to the front, skipping over the supernatural form of her god, examining his Empyrean bride. Another soft smile of joy lights her features under the fall of her veil. The Imam does not waver or flinch when his God's eyes fall upon him; he simply closes his eyes for a moment, and inclines himself in the slightest of bows. As Khalid's attention moves to Thalia, so does his; he bows as before, straightens, eyes momentarily hooded as he composes his thoughts. "It is in the spirit of Ashur Masad and Ushas that this wedding is held, for their story holds many truths for the two here before us. Like the Father of the Sun and the Mother of Dawn, each was mighty in their own way; like them, each has given a part of themself to create something greater than that which made it. This new creation, the joining of the Varati and the Empyre, is greater than either was alone, and it is in this light that we all bear witness to these vows." StormBearer's eyes pan across the multifarious crowd, but also watches the procession itself. He takes in the splendor of the bride and groom, remembering it, making an image in his mind. Need to remember long enough to write all this down. The crow on his shoulder is hunched respectfully and it seems to know just whats going on, but it really can't because birds arnt that smart. The Varati are a proud people, the Khalida no different in this respect, and Shahar stands straight and bedazzled in the glory of her people, her God-King, her furture Queen. No egotistical claiming this: she is content to share with all others the wonder that is Khalid Atar and Thalia, and tears of indescribable delight shimmer in her golden green eyes. Upon her countenance shines the hope that is so eloquently promised in the Imam's words. In an echoing mimicry of the dark and light wings of those who will be joined this day, Thalia's daughters stand at the front of the witnesses. The shimmer of Riana's wing brushes nervously once against the ebon of her sister's. Contrast, there may be, but the two stand close, and Riana reaches with her free hand for Oriane's. Anemone, no daughter of Thalia's but with Oriane and Riana nonetheless, has no intention in loosening her grip on the latter's fingers, and she is smiling encouragingly at the vision that is Thalia. Ilex does not seem to be paying as much attention as her fellow Herald. Yes, she is watching the ceremony with a respectful attentiveness, but occasionally her pale eyes wander to look round the shrine, or she barely nods her head in what seems to be a silent prayer. Tiny graisha-fingers pluck nervously at both Vayu and Shinjukou as Elania watches the God-King and Queen-to-be. So alien, all of this; so overdone and official and glamourous. Then again, the Varati wouldn't be nearly as fearsome -- and the Empyrean, not nearly as imposing -- if this sort of thing was done by dancing naked around a fire and shacking up in a leather lean-to, would they? Nervous curiousity glimmers bright in greengold eyes as she settles herself down slightly, and continues to watch. "When time was barely a concept realized and when the universe was still young, my father Ashur Masad asked my mother Ushas, to be his consort." Khalid's voice is heard for the first time, moments after the Imam's own remarks. "She was a Goddess in her own right and her power was as great as his. She ruled her own domain and held herself above most of creation. Still, she saw wisdom in this union and so they joined as two different people, to form a great alliance. In the spirit of my parents' pledge to one another, we are here today." Saying these few words, the God-King of the Varati lapses into silence and nods towards the Imam once more. Black wings stir slightly, as if impatient with the whole proceedings, and gold dust flickers off of his wings to fall towards the floor in a sparkling display. Blinking dark, expressive brown eyes, Oriane glances to her side at her golden sister and an expression of guilt washes briefly over her face. For Riana, she summons a soft smile and delicate, ink touched fingers immediately entwine with her sister's. Rather than pulling her black wings back from her sister's invading white ones, she instead leaves the wing extended so that their feathers may brush against one another in what might be a comforting manner. You sense Aurora's presence is an unobtrusive one. She stands assembled among the guests -- just one more face within the crowd. But perhaps you might notice her. You might glimpse that serene, grey-eyed gaze among all those that are awed, worried, anxious, or even angered. None of these things are displayed in her; she merely watches and, should you notice her, sends the briefest of smiles your way. The words, both those of the Imam and the God-King, grow larger within the echo this volumous chamber provides. They take on a life of their own, reminiscent of the deeply-pitched beating of a drum--something that is more /felt/ within one's very core than /heard/. Thalia follows the imagery woven by language and tongue, shifting her attention between the aged, red-robed man and Khalid Atar. Unlike those belonging to the Amir-al, her wings remain motionless, neatly tucked against her back. She is one of patience; one of steady calm. The Empyrean woman listens, pays attention and waits. Waits for the moment she is to accept her destiny, her future--whether it be good or bad. Medea lightly touches Cepheus's hand as they sit there in silence. As she leans forward just enough to look past him to Maya, she smiles on seeing the pride shining in her expression, as is shown so greatly in the faces of all the Varati present. A nod, then she finds herself sitting back. A look to beside her finds her surprised to see Siranae Acesius, and after a very soft whisper of greeting, her attention returns to the ceremony at hand. Maat's eyes are both full of pride and nervous worry. Thankfully her face is hidden and thus only the beaming golden orbs are exposed to any censure, though as all eyes are on the ascendant stars, the lines of tension around her eyes are easily missed and overshadowed by the fierce pride that emanates from every pore of her being as she listens to her King and God and his Imam. Leonidas settles into a soldier's repose, arms clasped behind his back, beneath his wings, attention on the ceremony itself, and mask of polite interest worn openly for all to see. For all those who might, for reasons unfathomable, be watching the winged man. The Imam straightens despite a lack of previous slouching, eyes sharpening to a keen, scrutinous edge. He looks to both bride and groom, assessing, studying; he has done this before, and negated the ceremonies when he found one or the other lacking some vital trait in his eyes. Not merely a meaningless part of the ceremony, but a true ordeal. A soul-searching. He meets his God's eyes as evenly as he met Thalia's, and after several seconds seems to return to himself, and nods. "It is time," he announces, "for Khalid Atar and Thalia Jovia Tritonides to exchange their vows of offering and acceptance. In the name of Ashur Masad and Ushas, I call upon all to listen, and all to make witness." He takes a half-step back. Silence. With wide golden-flecked eyes, Chana-Cari watches the God-king as he speaks, transfixxed on the preceedings. Where the Lords of War are seated no murmur comes, no tears shine, no muscle moves, all eyes locked on the scene before them. They could be brothers the way their manner is so alike, apart from the difference in Clan colours they wear with pride this day. Shahar is a single strand of rapturous attention at the bidding from the Imam and at the caress of Khalid's unequalled tones upon her aural senses. Likely as no, she will forget to breathe, so riveted by the moment is she. As bidden, Drusus listens, expression inscruitable. Acknowledging the Imam's words with a slight inclination of his chin, Khalid turns away from the man and reaches for the Queen's Crown that rests in the comfortable layers of the red, satiny pillow. Taking it within his hands, he turns to Thalia and murmurs quietly, "I, Khalid Atar, ask you in the presence of the people of Aether and in the heart of my empire, whether you shall accept me as your husband." Each word is spoken with grave meaning, as if the world itself depended on the answer to this question. The crown glitters as its gold is reflected by the fiery light of the candles of the shrine. It is a work of art, shape-crafted from the finest mages of the Varati empire and adorned with rubies and sapphires -- the colors of Clan Khalida. The center stone is black, matching that of the God-King's own crown. Siranae merely quirks one auburn-gold brow in Medea's direction, before turning to regard the joining of Thalia Tritonis and Khalid Atar with a thoughtful expression. No overjoyed expression of rapture can be seen for one of race joined to the Varati God-King, but no burning rage is evident either. No, this one seems to take a more wait and see attitude. Her gaze does travel over to the new Princeps however, and a faint softening can be seen in her sapphire'd gaze as she nods faintly in his direction. Silence and stillness from the delegation of Orcinus royalty. All three -- Kuronbo, Shinjukou, Yoritomo -- watch with eyes that betray nothing, expressions that appear quiet and mildly thoughtful as the words spoken upon the dais swell to fill the room. There is no question that remarks are being exchanged between the three, but no sign of it is given outwardly. True spectators, and nothing more, these sculptures of onyx, alabaster and mother-of-pearl. Aurora senses "Faanshi has barely any attention to spare from the dazzling sight of the ceremony proceeding. But perhaps something in her, nevertheless, senses the grey gaze upon her. Her own green one flickers momentarily your way, and although her face is half-veiled, perhaps, just perhaps, those fawn-shy, leaf-green eyes brighten a little." White wings, with a scattering of scarlet ones stir behind Calli's back, opening and spreading behind her slender back and narrow waist, touching her companion's ones in the process. Her bright emerald-green eyes watch the great interest as the ceremony gets underway, she smiles alittle as her gaze moves over the God-King with wings like her own, but dark in colour, perhaps her smile is one of hope that she will finally be able to see peace between the Varati and Empyrean races with the joining of these two persons. Anemone has a tendency to squirm, but not this night. Her purpose, other than comfort and support for her Domina and the future Queen, is to prevent squirming from Riana. Hence the unrelieved grip of hand upon hand. But then...maybe that is to prevent Annie herself from squirming? A thousand pairs of eyes watch. A thousand sets of ears listen. This is an intense moment, over a millenium in the making. All that Was has come to Be, gathered in a handful of minutes and heartbeats. Thalia meets the Imam's gaze with steady eyes, flickering candlelight dancing within their blue-grey depths, and listens to him with quiet intent. Now. The time has come. She turns to Khalid as the words linger in the air, the silks of her attire whispering through the shift. Everything narrows down, stops, and fades to mere static as she focuses her attention on the God-King. Breathe in. Pivotal moments in one's life--do they all slow down like this? Become sharp in substance and form? As he finishes speaking, she lifts her voice to answer, dipping her head in a single nod as she does so. "I, Thalia Tritonides, come of my own will and conviction, to accept you as my husband. Let the world stand witness." Breathe out. Into the silence following the Imam's serious words, comes the susuration of feathers. Perhaps forgetting herself slightly in the majesty of the ceremony, Riana begins a slow shifting from foot to foot, her wings brushing against both Oriane's and Anemone's, and loosing a great deal of gold and silver powder in the process. Eyes widening above the line of her veil, her gaze is fixed upon the crown being presented to her mother, and a not-so-quiet "ooooooh" eminates from her direction. They can grip the hands, but a gag upon the Queen's daughter might be a bit unseemly. A small gasp from Shahar at the dignity and presence thusly presented in so few words from the woman she shall soon call Queen, and a mouthed prayer of thanksgiving is silently winged upward from her parted lips...even if the one to whom she prays is presently distracted. Those fateful words are spoken and allowed to echo within the chamber that is the shrine to Vinita. Khalid gazes upon Thalia with those large, fiery blue eyes of his, filled with uncertain emotion. Quietly, his words follow, "I, Khalid Atar, God-King of the Varati, Divine Flame of Heaven and son of Ashur Masad and Ushas do accept you as my wife, Thalia Tritonides. Let the world stand witness." Ebon wings bristle at this statement, but the lord of the Varati stands his place. The Varati empire has been forever changed with those simple words. He murmurs, "Kneel before me, Thalia Tritonides, to be crowned Queen of the Varati." Rabi finds that she has been holding her breath. She lets it out, a gentle stream of air that sets her veils to a faint shimmering. Despite herself and despite the worry weighing too heavily on her soul, Oriane smiles. An honest, gentle and loving smile that's directed at her sister. It may be inappropriate and may garner the golden twin glares from other corners of room, but somehow it is reassuring to the darkling daughter of the Varati Queen that amidst it all, her sister is still... Riana. Squeezing her sister's hand, Oriane turns her eyes and watches the crown presented to her mother and the ceremony continue. The smile fades, but the overhwelming worry does not quite return in the same force as before. His response, the words which fashion it, slips about her and presses into her soul. Outwardly, Thalia seems calm. At peace. Her body is that of still, graceful lines, tranquility smoothing the gold-kissed feathers of those white wings lying quietly against her back. Inside? Oh, how her heart pounds! Certainly, the sound of it must fill the room to drown out everything else. As she starts to kneel, her gaze lowers to the floor, to her feet. All the steps she's taken in life, from the unsteady lurching of her toddling youth to the confident strides used to cross this room, has led her to this moment. Drifting to her knees with the grace of an apple blossom coaxed to the ground by a gentle breeze, her wings spread momentarily in order to lend her balance. Once settled, her eyes do not remain submissively lowered but lift up to look upon the God-King of the Varati. Her husband. Her /husband/. Anemone leans her cheek on Riana's shoulder in unbidden show of affection for the two sisters, like Oriana content that amidst all this change and alteration and joining and whatnot a sliver of normality and consistency remains. Hidenouri watches the two intently until Thalia gives her assent. Then, the Atlantean seems to lose interest in the ceremony itself. Her pale, cool eyes begin to wander around the shrine again, pausing briefly on the Orcinus royals, and continuing her keen gaze around the room, and finally resting on StormBearer. Altair holds Callidora closer to him as he watches the ceremony, his wing wrapping warmly around her. A smile forms on his face as he looks on, hoping that, despite anything anyone thinks or feels, that this is the beginnings of true peace at last. "On this day you kneel before me, for it is the last time you shall kneel before man or god, I name you Thalia Jovia Tritonides Khalida, Queen of the Varati, and my equal." Fiery blue eyes, churning with raw emotion, meet Thalia's own as Khalid gazes upon his wife and Queen. With steady hands, the God-King of the Varati lowers the crown atop his Empyrean bride's golden tresses; it is a perfect fit, a crown forged for her alone. "In this shrine to an Empyrean who was Varati, I renew the ties between our people. They were forged in war, with the coming of Vinita. Now, they are made in peace with the coming of you, my Queen. As pain, blood and fire ruled during the time of my greatest Dai, let peace, harmony and unity shine through the years of the first Queen since I have sat in the grand throne of the Varati empire." Taking a single step back, he beckons for Thalia to rise as he murmurs, "Stand once more and kneel never again to any creature in all of existence. You are the Queen of the Varati and bend knee to none." His words are like the end of a storm, the soft calm after the rage of nature has abated. Ivory wings that have lain still; flat and folded against the back of a regal Empyrean woman, now stir to life. Only marginally, as if moved by a breath of wind. Or by some untold emotion summoned forth by the gravity of this scene. Aurora listens to the exchange of vows and the promise of a changed future, and into her clear grey eyes steals the shimmering transluscence of tears. They do not fall, and are eventually blinked away so that she might resume her previous calm demeanor. Wedded. To the Khalid. It is a notion which Faanshi's young mind can barely encompass -- Mother of the Dawn, _marriage_ is a startling enough notion as it is! The shudra girl, red-and-blue-and-gold-clad shadow in the very back of the shrine, stops all her thinking for the time being. Later, she will reflect upon what she has been granted the priviledge to witness; for now, she will simply absorb it, wide-eyed, rapt. Niamh lets out a breath he has been holding for some time, trying to calm the churning in his gut. It will be a great adjustment to make...far more difficult than any he has had to make in his young life. But with determination he vows to adjust. Rabi smiles again under her veil. She steals a glance at the figure standing tall and forbidding beside and before her, then looks over the crowd quickly before her gaze flicks back to the front. Ebon eyes close, and Zuhayr bows his head, briefly, to murmur a prayer that might sound like the sliding of granite against marble to those unfamiliar with his voice. A prayer of gratitude and blessing, uttered with pure faith. When he falls silent, his eyes open again, and he watches his King and Queen with pride. Relief and renewed adoration for the God-King and for the new Queen suffuses Shahar's expression at this vehement declaration from Khalid Atar himself, and she adds her own singular nod of confirmation and agreement. Unlike the withheld tears of Aurora, Riana's begin cascading down almost as soon as Khalid's words cease echoing in the room. Oh! Mummy looks so beautiful, and Oh! Doesn't her new husband look so handsome, and Oh... dear. Whatever brilliant person decided her eyes should be lined with khol, should be given a severe lecture, for now lines of black run downward to pool at the top of her veil. With both hands tightly held, the Empyrean girl can do little more than nudge at her cheeks with her shoulder. Gee, that makes nice smudges. Look, everyone. The Queen's daughter is setting a new style in makeup. As Khalid's last words command her mother to rise and kneel no more, Oriane lets her eyes fall to the ground and her eyes close. Shutting out the shrine and the ceremony for a brief moment, the Queen's darkling daughter mourns the marriage that once was but had to die for this moment... A death like so many lost in the war now ending with marriage vows. Taking a deep, soft breath, she opens her eyes once more, expression resolute as she looks upon her mother and her new husband. StormBearer watches the ceremony with intrest blazing like a bonfire in his green eyes. Marriage for the God King? The idea now fully hits him, and he begins to think of this and other things as he watches the proceedings of this joyous occasion, joyous for those involved at least. Anemone is not especially in a better position than the two daughters Oriane and Riana, but she is here for them, and, loosening her hold on Riana's hand, she steps behind them and curls an arm around each, silently supportive. As the crown is placed upon her head, Thalia releases a soft breath. There is so much more weight to it than the physical. This is not a marriage of love; there is no giddy swell of emotion. However, despite the heavy responsibility which cloaks her now, a faint smile curves across her lips. Blue-grey eyes remain on Khalid as she finds her feet once more, rising up in a fluid motion. For a moment, her world remains focused and the rest of the existence is forgotten in one last taste of solitude. It is done. Taking her gaze off her husband, she now turns to the assemblage, drawing herself up straight with her chin faintly lifted. She fans out her wings, a splendor of gold and silver that seems to bow to the crown she wears. Thalia If it were possible to transform a mortal into a goddess, it has been made to be so. Glowing like sunlight cast upon a bounty of treasure, Thalia shines with an ethereal beauty. Her gown is clearly Varati in fabric and style, and yet unlike any gown ever created by this race. The silks are layered, those closest to her form only coming into view as she shifts, revealing a long underskirt which slips from a pale delicate blue to a lush royal. The over skirt is double woven and cut to swirl about her slender form, shining silver as she moves in one direction and gleaming gold as the light catches another. The lengths of exquiste fabric billows gracefully from a trimly drawn bodice to dance about her legs and is delicately embroidered with gold and silver thread. Interlaced with the stitchwork are carefully set diamonds, each catching the illumination around her and reflecting it back again. The fabric twists across her torso, flinging over her shoulder in a more traditional sari style. But the draping length dips down between her wings, growing in width and length so that it trails behind her regally. The color shifts from bright gold to subtle silver, to a light sky blue and then a lush dark hue, gems sparkling to recreate patterns and constellations. Her arms are delicately outlined with form fitting sleeves of the sheerest translucent golden silk, stitched stars trailing down the lengths and her hands are the hands of a Varati bride - drawn upon in the traditional and elborate paisley patterns and scrollwork of mehndi. But instead of the rich red of henna, her hands gleam with aureate tattoos instead, becoming not merely appendages, but works of art in and of themselves. Unbound, her hair falls in heavy lengths of rich blonde past her shoulders, a warm sunflower kissed with silver. Diamonds have been woven in among her tresses like adornments pulled down from the night heavens. Delicate designs of sterling and gold dangle from her ears, her throat wrapped elegantly with jewelry so finely crafted it looks to be made of sun and air rather than precious metals. But most breathtaking are her wings. Pure white in comparison with the raven black of the Khalid's, the insides have been dusted with silver, the backs with gold, and they gleam brightly with designs of power and majesty. In combination with her delicate figure and her pale coloring, she is a star incarnate, showering forth light and beauty in a dazzling array. Khalid If his bride is akin to a star, then Khalid Atar is the sun. His natural radiance is powerful and compelling, the colors more fiery and demanding in comparison. A high collared shirt of lustrous blue silk, elaborated on with gold embroidery brings the strength of his rich coloring to lustrous life. In contrast a gold vest dropping to his thighs gleams brightly, again elaborately illustrated through embroidery of bronze threads. Caught upon his shoulders and trailing down is a golden cloak which graces the ground behind him in a flowing stream. The billowing silk of the robe shifts from bright gold to deeper bronze, to lush copper, and finishing in a fiery red, the embroidering bringing to life a golden sun, whose rays swirl down in dramatic flaming arms to the edges of the cloak. Tailored breeches mold his legs, flaring out at first and tapering down till they meet his tall boots. Matching the bronze of his shirt, they are trimmed along the sides by gold embroidery, a swirling arching flame ascending each leg. The boots are a lustrous deep coppery brown, rubbed with bronze and copper powder to gleam as if they were cast in the precious metals. Gold patterns have then been overlaid in trailing lines of fire and power. At his waist, a flowing sash of red silk holds within its grasp a long curved sword, crafted out of what appears to be ebony. It is complemented by a smaller matching ebony blade and a silver-tipped whip, both of which also ride at the hip. A crown-circlet rests atop his forehead, holding back wisps of unruly hair, black and wavy, billowing loose to nearly his waist. Arching out in majesty and regal beauty, the rich ebony of his wings are rubbed with copper dust along the inside, gleaming powerfully with touches of bronze. Likewise the back of the Amir-al's wings are coated with gold powder, colored in overlaying bronze dust. A huzzah, heartfelt and splendid in its emotion, comes immediately from Shahar's throat for the Queen, for the marriage, for future before the freshly conjoined peoples of the Empyre and Varati. In the eyes of the Shakir, at least, all is well. The four Praetors shift, their magnificent plumes bobbing as they turn their heads and glance at one another. Their lips move, a soft murmur passes between them, the words hidden by the tumultuous cries. Drusus himself remains motionless, still observing quietly. From the throats of the more impulsive Varati all across the shrine, cheers and hosannas rise up in response to the figure of she who has been made Queen. Among them all, Faanshi sketches across her breast the sigil of Ushas that her great-aunt, her heart-mother Ulima, taught her, and invokes to herself that great Lady's holy name, unable to think of anything else to utter in the majesty of the moment. Her head bows automatically, her very being struck to the core. So /this/ is how the 'civilized' do it. No wild celebrations and giddy-glorious cheering, no passionate embrace once the Shaman-er, Imam has declared it blessed and done? Oh, it's awe-inspiring and impressive, truly, but for one small and furry soul in the crowd, it seems a little...off. Like a piece of driftwood shaped into something elegant-odd by the water and then sculpted by hand into a less-perfect shape. Elania cocks her head to the side, chin uptilted, ruddy brows gently furrowed. Perhaps there will be bonfires and naked dancing later. Khalid Atar stands before Thalia, waiting for his wife and Queen to rise. Turning his gaze outwards, upon those who have come to witness this union, he searches the crowds with that unflinching blue gaze of his. Slowly, his eyes refocus on Thalia's own face, as he speaks, "All know this is a political marriage. Many may think it has no passion, no fire and will not last. In the faces of some, I see their doubt." His lips twist into a thoughtful repose, before he speaks again, "When Ushas came to Ashur, she came of her own free will. She knew the wisdom in the union and though she was unlike him in all ways, as darkness differs from light, she grew to love him. Their passion is legendary and it has withstood the test of time. It was more than a simple alliance. It was a true union. And from that union the world was changed, altered and forever marked with a special greatness. This is my hope for us. For our people." Stepping within inches of his Queen, the God-King of the Varati raises his hands to draw those slender tendrils of golden hair away from her face, before cupping her soft cheeks within his firm grasp. And then as star-touched ebon wings rise high in a majestic salute, the lord of the Varati presses his lips fully upon the mouth of the Queen of the empire. "Ohhhhhh...." whispers Anemone at this declaration and the kiss which follows, and if her tears were not flowing before, they certainly tumble now. Rabi's breath catches in her chest. Feeling Annie at her shoulder, Oriane glances away from her mother towards the faithful woman beside her. A faint flicker of a smile attempts to cross her lips before letting her eyes take the moment to look out over the room. The joyful faces of the enraptured Varati combined with the impassive or neutral expressions of others. Dark eyes pause with a flutter of black feathers dusted with silver. The darkling's gaze lingers for a moment, flicks to another and then drops as she turns to the front to witness the kiss of husband and wife. Despite herself, dark eyebrows furrow and she looks away. Faanshi's eyes go as round as coins, if coins can ever be the green hue of springtime leaves. Her mouth had already stopped; her breath had stopped; now it seems as if her heart has stopped, as the already overwhelming evening tops itself off for a humble shudra with the sight of the very first kiss she has ever beheld. And what a stunning first example! As the crown settles on Thalia's head, then the kiss afterwards, the tension lines increase around Maat's eyes rather than decreases. She stands from her seat and moves toward the archway, where she stands ready to direct traffic. As if her rising were a signal, the assembled Varati, join in Shahar's cry with, "Hail, Queen Thalia! Hail Beloved Queen!" in various degrees of joy. "Hail Khalid Atar! Hail Queen Thalia Khalida!" The words boom from the Warlords of Major and Minor clans, spoken as if by one man with an enormous volume to his voice. Their every difference forgotten, today they stand united, to honour their Kind, their God and their newfound Queen. Interest sparkles brightly in the emerald-green eyes framed by scarlett fire lashes as her vision takes in the kiss of the King and Queen. A kiss that could symbolise so many different things to some many different people. Even as hardened as she herself is to the Varati she can help but feel a tug deep in her stomach. Drusus glances over the noisy crowd, gaze curious. He turns his face and regards the expressions of his guards, which are carefully schooled. Chana-Cari stands with the others, awe still in her eyes. Her soft voice finds a place with the others. "All hail the Queen-Maharani! All hail the beloved Khalid Atar, Divine Flame!" Shahar cries in exultation; there is within her exhuberance no doubting her support for this union. Rabi claps her hands together, unable to give voice but the exhultation flows from her heart anyway, light from a small star, joyous warmth from a fire. Her eyes are radiant as she rises up on her toes, beaming under her veil as tears flow unbidden to make its edge cling to her cheeks. Silence has possessed Vayu in thick woollen folds the entire ceremony, his eyes seeming to record everything, as though he had the eidatic memory of a blackjack player. Here, however - on the threshold of a brave new world and with the fears of war placed firmly behind him, he can raise his voice with Shahar's, in a heavy boom of happiness. "Hail the God-King! Hail Queen Thalia! Blessings to the House of the Divine Flame and all those of both kingdoms!" he exults, a fist raised in the air as though his emotion were trapped within, a sparkling star hidden from the world save in moments like these. So the diplomat *does* feel things, after all. The Orcinus royals are smiling, though silent. Approval of the union shows in the cant of a head here, the respectful placing of fingers to a heart there. They celebrate this marriage in their own way, and with no less sincerity shown for it. As one, save perhaps the Nayaka himself, that black and silver presence, the massive stoic guard, the Amir-al's Lions of Fire, kneel, and prostrate themselves, foreheads pressed to the backs of their hands, before both King and Queen. Zuhayr is the first to lift his head, and bellow, "All praise Khalid Atar, Most High! All praise the Maharani, his Wife!" The rest, the Agni-Haidar, echo the words. From beside Cepheus, a cry rises to join those of the Varati around her. Maya's voice rings true, "Hail Khalid Atar! Hail Queen Thalia Khalida!". The purity of her devotion is clear. One hand freed, Riana reaches up to dab at her cheeks, using the handily placed veil as a kerchief. And then, He says such a sweet thing, and kisses Her. Didn't Ria say just that exact thing when she met with Khalid the first time? Er.. or something like it, anyway. Bouncing on her heels, she looks eager to rush forward and lend her own happiness to that pair. Luckily, Annie's hand remains on her shoulder, and so she settles for adding her own cheers to the others, "Hurrah for Mummy! Hurrah for.." erm, hrm. Not Daddy.... "...for Khalid Atar!" She'll worry about that one later.. Anemone cannot resist a brief kiss to the back of Oriane's hair at the little half-smile from the darkling, but she otherwise moves not at all save to whisper to Riana, "Hurrah for the Queen and God-King, my sweeting." The cries echo throughout the shrine and from the throne room beyond until the entire building would seem to reverberate. From outside the walls, further shouts can be heard, as if the populace of Masada had been told that the ceremony has concluded and they have a new Queen. From all sides, inside and out, the Varati call out to their King and their Queen. The Agni-haidar are first to show their humble respect to their God, their Queen. The Warlords assembled wait not long to follow their honourable example, kneeling down, back of hands on floor, head in hands. Once again they exclaim their praise to the newly weds. Madirakshi is simply another figure in the wave of scarlet that makes up the Atarvani looking upon this more sacred of unions. The sheer red veiled slit behind which her inscrutable eyes lie wrinkles slightly. Altair looks upon that kiss, assured that something good and true is happening here today. His smile is relaxed, as are his wings, as he realizes what he is witnessing at last. He looks to Callidora, his eyes gazing upon hers as he speaks to her. "Peace is on it's way, true and lasting, if it has not already arrived." This ... moment ... is so incredibly abstract. Everything exists seperately, relating to each other like the hazy components of a dream. There are all these people, eyes set in faces both fair and dark. There are cheers, the sound filling the room like a distant thunder rolling in. And then, there is the Kiss. One hand reaches for his elbow, fingers touching there lightly to hold her balance, as they share the heat of one mouth pressed to another. Shared breath, a brief joining of souls. It all begins to knit together, reality settling about her, and Thalia breaks away with a half-step back. A smile and a look out over the chambers. Niamh stands with the others, his eyes still fixed on Khalid-Atar and his new Queen. Even though he has been in the presence of Khalid-Atar before, it never ceases to stun him. Hopefully he will remember this night to record it in his notes later... During the formalities that follow, as Faisal leads the pride line of Lions toward the newly crowned Queen and the God-King himself, Shahar tears her devoted gaze from the dais to regard Rabi. Her akraba, her friend. And to her she sends a sisterly glance of understanding, a sharing of deep emotions. In the midst of the wave of adulation, Faanshi sinks to her knees, trembling beneath her sari, overcome. The shudra girl then flings her forehead to the floor, barely managing missing the back of the final row of seats behind which she has been lurking. Rabi laces her fingers together tightly, more to keep the boundless energy she feels properly and demurely contained than for any other reason. She watches Faisal and her eyes shine with pride and adoration. She looks over towards Shahar and an added sparkle dances within her copper-chased golden gaze. Drawing back as well, with his arm offered to his Queen, Khalid Atar looks upon the gathered crowds of the shrine and speaks, "The Crown and Throne of the Varati empire thanks all of you for witnessing this monumental and historical event." He inclines his chin to the collected chamber. "We will be retiring to the throne room. There a performance will be put on while you are free to mingle. In addition, the Crown would be willing to listen to private greetings, petitions and such. A little later in the evening, a fireworks display will be put on for your pleasure." This said, he begins to walk down the isle as the Imam and Agni-Haidar fall into place. Shahar hesitates not at all. As Khalid and Thalia approach, she falls to her knees and lowers herself in full prostration to the two who rule the Varati...and command her heart. Rabi sinks down, too, as the God-King and his Queen pass, pressing her forehead against the backs of her slender fingers. She remains bowed even as Faisal passes, and his Agni-Haidar too. With good spirit, though a tad awkwardly, Riana moves to kneel, and then carefully bow as her mother and new step-father pass. After all, everyone else is doing it, and she so clearly and desperately wishes to please these two, and the people to whom Thalia has been sold. Sparkling wings arch out slightly to aid the manouver, and the delicious silks she has been dressed in flutter on their way toward the ground. Anemone bows, if deeply so. She isn't into that kneeling and forehead to the floor-ing yet. As the god-king of the Varati and his new Queen pass, Leonidas offers a Praetorian's salute, keeping to his feet. Chana-Cari quickly slips to her knees, touching her forehead to the floor, careful of the pew in front of her. Squeezing her sister's fingers, Oriane turns to watch the God-King and his Queen pass by. She does not prostrate herself, or even bow her head until she realizes she is the only one not doing anything. Though it may be misinterpreted as disrespect, it is truly only that she is lost in thought. Manners have always been her shield, but now they seem as useless as a broken goblet. Niamh kneels also, touching his forehead reverently to the floor as the Divine couple pass, his thoughts never ceasing their unspoken prayers. As the procession makes its way towards her, Tahira lowers herself penitently. Her head bows in graceful respect to her King and Queen, the flames of her soul. As Khalid and Thalia begin moving down the aisle, Maat disappears into the Throne Room and there can be heard the sound of rapid feet movement, as if the director of a play were clapping her hands and shouting, 'Places, people, places.' Just beyong the threshhold of the archway, Maat kneels and presses her head to the floor for to the passing monarchs and in a set of double rows, all the assembled shudra and naraki kneel and prostrate themselves. Maat leaves the shrine via the archway. Drusus, hands still laced behind his back, inclines his head politely as the newlyweds pass. It is a Praetor's greeting to civlians of very high status. The guards beside him follow suit, bowing more deeply. Madirakshi has seldom seen much else than the floor, this moment is no different. The shechah's robes pool about the floor about her. The form no different than the one beside her, uniform. That's her cue. Faanshi has to struggle to collect herself, but she knows her orders, and the shaken girl leaves as soon as she is able, to get herself into place to assist in the serving of the food. As you move past the plants, a gentle puff of air sweeps through the emerald leaves. They sound melodiously, but the effect is quickly lost as you cross the threshold into the throne room proper. Throne Room - Ushas-Gah - Masada(#2120RDFJM) Contents: Maat Kaia Flower Obvious Exits: Atrium Shrine to Vinita Khalid and Thalia enter from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Siranae enters from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Khalid ascends up the dais. Chana-Cari and Zuhayr enter from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Thalia ascends up the dais. Kala has arrived. Altair, Callidora, Ilex, StormBearer, Hidenouri, Medea, Oriane, Riana, Anemone, and Rabi enter from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Altair walks in with Callidora, arm-in-arm. Emerging from the shrine, Oriane walks with her sister's fingers still entwined with hers. Carefully, she moves towards the dais with a hesitancy in her expression and in the agitated flutter of her wings. Though she looks as if she is trying to get to her mother's side, she does not force her way through the crowd. The multitude of servants leave their floor-hugging positions as Khalid and Thalia ascend the dais. Moving to the sides of the rooms, silver and gold platters are appear, as if by magic. Faanshi is handed a platter loaded with small, scrumptious rolls with meat in their center and a bowl of yellow sauce. As guests appear, chairs are offered and servants begin to circulate about the room with their gustatory delights. Medea sits down ain the row of chairs on the Queen's side. Shahar enters from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Siranae sits down ain the row of chairs on the Queen's side. Presented with her platter, Faanshi thusly points herself towards the outpouring of nobles and notables, keeping her shy green gaze just high enough to keep from bumping into anyone, and looking for whoever is nearest her to make her first offer of sustenance. Callidora guides Altair over to the row of chairs on Queen Thalia's side, white wings tight behind her back as she walks slowly. Unlike her more demure sister, Riana plunges ahead, using the spread of her wings to advantage in her eagerness to get closer to her mother. The movements are far from rude, but she's definitely, insistantly headed in the direction of the dias. Every few steps she lifts up on tiptoes to try to spot the royal pair. There is a scribe's kit, paper and inks and pens all carefully laid out upon an elegant reed mat, to the side and well behind the Khalid's throne. Rabi moves forward and lowers herself, bowing once again with forehead against the cool stone, before shifting off to her place by that kit, silent like a shadow racing from the flickering of a torch. Rabi ascends up the dais. Slowly ascending the dais, with the Queen on his arm, Khalid guides Thalia into her throne before seating himself. Ebon wings close against his back, before he leans against the soft, comforting pillows of his seat. One hand rests in his lap, while the other resides on the armrest of the obsidian throne. Clearing his throat, he calls out, "Shakir Maat of Clan Al'Samar will be handling the performance. Please feel free to sit or mingle as you wish. Rabi, Royal Scribe, will be acknowledge those who wish to present themselves to the throne or petition the throne in some fashion. Please await her cue before approaching the dais." Before she led her sister, but now she is the one who follows. Letting Riana guide their way towards the dais, Oriane is careful to keep her black wings to her back and her eyes on the assembled peoples. Leonidas and Drusus enter from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. StormBearer strides from without the shrine, Hidenouri close behind as he moves towards the chairs near the Atrium. He sits fluidly, still observing the occasion with objective eyes, but those same eyes are filled with green fire. StormBearer sits among the chairs by the atrium. Maat moves forth through the crowd, seeking the pair that will be providing the actual entertainment. As she moves, she makes sure that the space before the dais is left empty and that guests do not scoot their chairs in too close. She beckons toward Kala and Kaia when she spots them. Altair smiles a little amusedly, lovingly to Callidora, letting her lead him to the table. Whether he's Noble or not, she's surely got him one-upped at least on the niceties of high society. Flanked by her quartet of guards, Shahar walks toward the dais and the place she has often occupied in courts of old. Eyes upon Rabi, the Shakir kneels, then, lowering her gaze, prostrates herself before the thrones and respectfully murmurs her desire to speak. Altair sits down in the row of chairs on the Queen's side. Ilex sits among the chairs by the atrium. Rabi's eyes widen slightly, but only for a moment. She swallows and picks up a pen. Yes, this will do. Like the staff used by the seneschal, yes? She gestures towards Shahar, feeling oddly foolish. Zuhayr makes his way through the crowd of people to murmur a few words toward the stony visaged Nayaka of the Agni-Haidar. He then bows, and turns to slip out of the throne room for a moment. Chana-Cari sits down among the chairs near the shrine. Shahar ascends up the dais. Zuhayr leaves for the atrium. Niamh enters from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Niamh sits down among the chairs near the shrine. Tahira enters from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Not nearly brave enough to go anywhere near the dais though she's bowed as best she can with a platter in her hands upon the entrance of the Khalid and his Queen, Faanshi slips towards the chairs near the atrium. The Sylvan, the one with the crow on his shoulder, gives her a slight distraction and an excuse to focus her attention; it is StormBearer, thus, whom she first approaches. Her blue-saried head bobs; her slim frame bows, platter in her hands uplifted, and she can be heard to murmur demurely, "Do you wish food for yourself or your bird, imphadi?" Hidenouri slowly makes her way through the crowd, observing all the lush colors wiht obvious pleasure. She stands near StormBearer and Ilex, to get a better view of the performance--hoping its dance. Anemone sticks close to Oriane and Riana, as she should be, and now and again she throws a smile up toward Thalia. She is purposefully cheery...but rarely is she otherwise anyway. Callidora sits down in the row of chairs on the Queen's side. Chana-Cari lowers herself into a chair near the shrine, eyes following as much of the activity as possible. Hidenouri sits among the chairs by the atrium. Niamh moves from the Shrine into the room, taking a seat by Chana-Cari, pensive and quiet as usual. His attentions are divided between inner thoughts and the activity about him. Most seem uncertain as to the present status of Thalia's two daughters, and thus a path clears before them with relative ease. Best to lean in the direction of manners when one is uncertain, yes? Khalid's words hit Riana at the same moment she comes to the empty space before the thrones, and cause her to skitter to a halt. Wait and ask permission to approach Mummy? Well, uhm... As Shahar has beaten them to the spot, she pauses with head tilted to one side, trying to catch the eye of Rabi in a not-quite subtle fashion. Thalia shifts upon the throne. /Her/ throne. It is something she will have to get used to. For now, she feels like a child sitting at her father's desk or some such similiar situation. Finally settling herself, she glances to Khalid a moment before sweeping her eyes out over the people milling about. Searching. Before she can pick her daugters out of the crowd--dark wings, which were so easy to spot in Empyrean society, now just blend in with the wave of colours here--distraction comes at the sound of her husband's voice. She looks to him again, then to Rabi, and finally drifts her gaze to Shahar. Rabi sees Riana's barely-restrained attempts to gain her attention and looks up. She nods and holds up a finger, as if to say "one moment". Then pen, in her other hand, she dips into the ink set out for her, ready to transcribe. StormBearer's voice replies quickly to the serving girls request. "No thankyou, I'm not hungry, though I'm sure he would." Food offered to the bird is quickly recieved and gobbled, with little or no mess. Callidora smiles warmly back at the Delphi robed woman. "A pleasure to meet you to..." She looks to Altair to introduce them. Two young men, both dressed in red, blue and gold, approach the throne. One bears a tray with four glasses, two of red wine and two of white wine. The other young man bears a tray with a sampling of hors d'oeuvres: small stuffed eggs, sculpted puffs with surprises inside, rolls similar to the ones on Faanshi's tray, crackers with curlicued mounds of cheese. The wine is offered up while the tray with the food is arranged so that their majesties might enjoy it without being constantly accosted by servants. Slipping on over to speak quietly with one of the naraka, Tahira nods softly and bows her head. She turns to move on into the room, heading towards the dais. Selecting one of the seats upon the king's side, she turns to face him before delivering a respectful bow. Vayu and Elania enter from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. The shudra girl with green eyes steals a peek at the crow, and then shyly bobs her head to the man upon whose shoulder the creature resides. After a morsel or two is consumed by the avian, Faanshi then turns her attention to Hidenouri and Ilex nearby, repeating her offer in those soft tones of hers. Vayu and Elania sit down in the row of chairs on the King's side of the dais. At Riana's side as they approach the throne, Oriane steps closer to her golden twin. Such opposites - black wings versus white ones, short dark hair versus curled golden locks... But for all that, there is a similarity between the girls. The darkling half looks past her sister and towards Rabi, a flicker of curiosity in dark eyes as she waits permission. Tahira sits down in the row of chairs on the King's side of the dais. Hidenouri smiles softly at Faanshi and nods, "I would like to try something, yes." She takes two of the puffed hors d'oeuvres, hoping it it something she is able to consume. "Thank you." Rabi's pen works across the paper, fluidly capturing words and translating them into elegant immortality. Late, late, late! Must Vayu always be late? With Elania at his heels, he steps quickly into the throne room and takes a seat at the nearest possible location - which, in this case, happens to be on one of the many elegant chairs on Khalid's side of the room. Anemone waits behind Riana and Oriane, tapping her foot before she catches herself. She had wanted the daughters to be -first-. Through the throng of people approach a most unusual duo. Dark and light, each with their own unique grace and agility that brings the devastatingly beautiful duo before the God-King's and Queen's thrones. An Empyrean and Varati to greet their own. Slipping into grand curtsies, Kala and Kaia slip just as silently towards their small setup: a minute 'stage', as it were, with a few musical instruments within the back, and a carpeted area forwards. Rabi glances up as she finishes a sentence. She sees Oriane and nods. Again her free hand makes a simple 'one moment' gesture. Returning from her errand, one of the naraka steps back into the throne room carrying a medium sized object covered with a deep blue wrap. The servant quietly searches for someone. Upon catching sight of Tahira, she makes her way over with the gift and delivers it before bowing and returning once more to her work. Whatever Shahar might be saying to Khalid, it does indeed seem to elicit a smile from the often taciturn God-King of the Varati. Sunil enters from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. Faanshi's own mouth is veiled, but her green gaze flicks briefly and more fully to Hidenouri at the tiny woman's smile and mannerly words. "You are welcome, imphada," she murmurs demurely, and as soon as the guest has taken what morsels she wishes, the shudra moves on to look for someone else to serve amongst those seated near the atrium. Sunil slips in with the remainder of the crowd, unobtrusively finding a place near the rear of the chamber. There's a sway to those silk clad hips of the dusky Varati performer. A rythm soon followed by the near serpent like movements of her arms, as they rise and fall, lift and lower on the sides of her body. Warming up a bit, those toffee brown eyes all but shooting sparks of green fire. Never has she danced in front of quite so big and prominent a crowd. Kala glances over at her Empyrean counterpart, apparently waiting for her to go first. To begin the music, so she can dance. Get this beat out of her body. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Almost imperceptibly, Riana lifts and then settles onto her heels. It would be rude just to rush up and smother Mummy with hugs and kisses, right? Right... Wonder what that lovely woman is saying up there. Oooh, wonder what the performers will do. Wonder what sort of food is being served. No, these are not merely her thoughts, but rather each is plainly writ upon the girl's face as she tilts her head to look about the room. Wait your turn, Ria. There's a good girl. Elania is doing a remarkable job of playing me-and-my-shadow with Vayu, and settles gracefully as she can into the chair next to him. She tucks one leg up beneath herself and arranges her fringed shawl just /so/, then lets her eyes skitter over the throne room in a fresh wave of wide-eyed fascination. So many people, all arranged in such finery, and- She pauses, chin tipping up, as she silently sniffs the air. Food. She sniffs again. Fruit? Peaches? No such luck. She settles back a bit, mildly disappointed that peaches aren't considered a delicacy in Masada. Vayu says something, and she looks back to him, nodding rapidly as she chatter-whispers. Thalia catches sight of her daughters, the small bit of tension present in her shoulders fading away. Okay, good. They're not hopelessly lost in the crowd. Her attention, then, moves quickly to Shahar and her focus is on what the woman is saying. A sluggish, erotic thrumming echos from the stretched skins of tubal drumbs, dainty hands plucking an odd sort of rhythm that quickens the heart just a pace or more. Snow fluffs grandly behind her, Kaia's feathers shivering to create a most unusual accompaniment: breeze. Nature methodically mimicked at it's finest, as a husky, throaty hum begins to rumble through the petite Empyrean performer. A brief gesture from Maat and another one of those ubiquitous servants approached the two daughters of Thalia bearing a tray. Perhaps not the best choice for young girls, there would appear to be a selection of chocolates, from bon-bons to fluffy concoctions with decadent swirls. Hidenouri takes a small bite, smiling as the savory flavors fill her mouth. While waiting a little more patiently than her sister, at least on the surface, Oriane lets her dark eyes wander the crowd. The white robed Varati causes a faint flicker of guilt to cross over her pale features. Fingers squeeze Riana's as she reminds herself she owes Vayu an apology. The Sylvan next to him also gets a lingering look. Elania... she remembers the name. Seeing a collection of Atlanteans, the darkling furrows her brow faintly. She seems to remember meeting one of them... oh yes... Shinjukou. Still, her eyes continue to wander the room. The dancers give her pause as her head tilts and she regards Kaia with a blink of surprise. Another face she recalls. Considering quietly, she looks to the other side of the room. Drusus. Shahar apparently has said her peace and kneels before the thrones to kiss the foot of the Queen, then the toe of the God-King, and before she withdraws the evidence of high emotion is again painted in tearstreaks on her cheeks. The smile she wears ensures that any nearby may know she is, however, immensely happy. Shahar descends from the dais. As the performers begin, Faanshi strives to be even more unobtrusive, as she slips round towards Sunil, presenting her platter for his inspection. "Do you desire food, imphadi?" is her softly whispered greeting. Rabi smiles and pauses in her writing. The pen sweeps slightly as the scribe gestures towards the Queen's two daughters. Anemone shadows the daughters to greet the Queen too...a swift glance at the mute scribe (nice lady with the pretty handwriting) makes certain that her company is approved. Let the show begin. Kala's head is thrown back for a moment, her spine straightening and then arching as if she has been touched by a whitehot iron rod, whilst the rest of her body is frozen in immobility.. And then. Those hips pick up the rythm first, swaying, shivering this way and that. The stomach follows, then the chest, her thighs, calves, feet, her arms dark serpents around her body. Dancing to the Empyrean's music and voice. Already beginning to sweat a bit from the close proximity of the people, her previous tension, and the still not relaxed state of her nerves. But that will come. Let the music continue, pick up the pace.. And she will dissapear into the motion. Green silk clings to dusky skin before being loosened once more from the shiftings of her body. Oooooh, chocolate! Perhaps waiting isn't so bad... Fingers lift and reach toward the tray, and then a nudge, or perhaps a gentle wingsweep from Oriane reminds Riana of their purpose, and pale blue eyes drift over toward Rabi. Oh! Our turn? Only the slightest bit of regret traces her brow before the girl turns and mounts the dais with an eager step and a brilliantly wide smile. Riana ascends up the dais. Sunil sits down among the chairs near the shrine. Words are exchanged between Khalid and Shahar and it is obvious that the God-King of the Varati is quite pleased with whatever transpires on the dais. Quietly, he watches his Shakir step down. Pulling her eyes away from places she should not be looking, Oriane blinks at the tray of chocolates. With a tiny shake of her head and a polite smile, she murmurs a thank you but no. Seeing the gesture of Rabi's pen, Oriane follows her more exhuberant and eager sister. Oriane ascends up the dais. StormBearer continues to scan the room, but then turns to Hidenouri and says something only she can hear. He then turns back and resumes his watch, grinning. Indeed, whatever was last said to Shahar has bedazzled her; even the often expressionless Shakir is smiling with unrestrained pleasure. Enough euphoria to last months, likely... Drusus is a spot of drab darkness framed within the gold-red spendor of the Praetorian honor guard. He -- and they -- watch the reception. Drusus' expresion is faintly thoughtful. Anemone ascends up the dais. Rabi dips her head in greeting and then her pen in writing, finishing up the statements from before, her hand moving in measured and unhurried strokes across her paper. Thriving rhythms begin to seize the expensive drums as Kaia's lips part, and one pure note is held, quivering within the sweltering air.... So perfectly attuned to Kala's movements, is Kaia's offering of music, the buzzing of her own broad sails compacted with extensive energies creating a bead of perspiration to draw alonside her brow. Undulate and move, such a primal tune is meant for inspiration. The beating of two hearts to find one glorious unison. Hidenouri glances at StormBearer and smiles warmly to him. Her eyes quickly move back to the dance, taking note of the movements and steps. Indeed, her own feet, follow along, hidden beneath her tunic. On around, then, with her platter. Chana-Cari and Niamh are offered a share of the fare upon Faanshi's plate, while the shudra keeps her attention stoically away from the music. Music, too, this night, as if her head were not already stuffed past comfort with thoughts and fuel for her senses, even if she herself is not stuffed with any of the fine edibles she is assisting in handing out to the guests. Several minutes are required to ground Shahar from the clouds upon which her fleeting visitation with the God-King and Queen placed her, and she idly searches for beverages, for a tidbit to eat. And for Drusus. Not necessarily in that order. Niamh takes some of the food with a nod to Faanshi. Chana-Cari looks up to Fannshi's tray. She picks a small peice of fruit. "Thank you." Quickly she takes a bite. A servant approaches the pale Jovian and Drusus holds up his hand, declining with a quiet murmur of thanks. He turns slightly and gestures to the guard, indicating that they are welcome to partake of these refreshments as they will; one accepts that offer and sips from a glass of wine. Leonidas steps toward Drusus. Unobtrusively, mind you. He's drifting. Yoritomo has arrived. Altair and Callidora kiss tenderly a moment, as they sit and converse quietly with Medea. Yeah. Oh, yeah, this is what she needs. What she craves. Moccha coloured skin is enriched with the Varati's perspiration, golden droplets to match the embroidery on her silken clothes. And she's gone. No more Kala, just the rythm of the music, of that near unison of their hearts. Their souls. Now she is beginning to pick out the turf of the dance, those small feet beating against the floor with her quick, near running steps, red adorned palms slapping against her swaying hips and flexing upper thighs. The bared midsection of the female seems to literally twist as her lower body turns one way and her upper the other, a hypnotic hurricane of music, naked skin and whispering thin green silks. Hidenouri leans over to StormBearer and speaks quietly as she gestures toward the performers, evidently asking whether he likes the dance. Wide and overful; grin-posessed of feral intensity, the grey-grey stoneyes of Vayu's objectivity peruse the two dancers; let them writhe, for such things are not unknown to him. Let them shake, twist, and haloo, for their movments have been seen before. Let them bring joy to the people, and lustful thoughts to the men - for the hormonal flushings of males are not those for the Khalida diplomat. His eyes, in perusing the twain, encourage and record. 'How can I use this,' they inquire, 'Would that I could dance like that, and let no man refuse me!' Arms fold up over his chest, for while he is impressed - as much shows on the lines of the eyes and lips - it would not do for him to let anyone *else* know. Shahar is not drifting; after she plucks a morsel from a tray, she pops it into her mouth and walks more directly toward the Praetorian. Her encounter with Khalid and Thalia still sends effusive light from her eyes, but she has control entirely of herself as she nears Drusus and his croni...companions. Having lingered within the crowd, head tilted and trailing lightly in a typically cool air, Yoritomo edges away from the crowd and slowly breaks away, shoes padding gently against the surface of the floor without making so much as a scuffing motion. He makes his way gently in the specific direction of the dais, eventually settling beside the general area of Vayu and more specifically Elania, one Orcinus Shinzou, to be proper now. His face is smooth and impassively, impeccably polite as he sinks into the chair. Thalia rises from where she sits as her daughter approach, closing the distance between herself and them. Hugging each one close, she kisses their cheeks as silvery dampness comes to her eyes. Khalid mimics his consort's actions, at least in that he rises from his throne. However, he does not approach the twins, but rather favors them with a smile as he speaks. Drusus watches Shahar approach, his eyes ever devoid of emotion. "Shakir." He bows. StormBearer turns to Hidenouri a says some short comment followed by a sort of half-laugh, which doesn't seem quite right. Yoritomo sits down in the row of chairs on the King's side of the dais. Anemone cannot help herself; a rapidly and efficiently produced cloth is applied as it can be to Thalia's moistened eyes. Ever the attendant, she. Oh, and she doesn't approach Khalid either. Leonidas's approach is stalled, then. He contents himself with watching. "Dominus," replies Shahar in a rippling tonality, returning the bow. "I trust you are enjoying yourself?" An ancient shattering call, from mate to soulmate, splits the very fabric of sound with a seering caress. A cry for unity, a shivering cascade of notes that trickles lazily onwards as the quadruple drums begin to form as one beat. One aching, bursting heart. Pride is tucked demurely behind Kaia as the song's climax is overcome, only to dwindle with a pace to match that of any frumpy, obstinant turtle. Niamh turns his attention back on the other food he took, the dancing, and the workings of his own mind. Niamh has left. The excitable daughter of the new Varati Queen delivers an exhuberant hug to her mother, but doesn't seem content to stop there. In a rustling of white wings, Riana continues on with the clear intent of 'welcoming Khalid to the family' with a hug of his own. Stepping up onto the dais with uncertainty coloring her every expression and flutter of a feather, Oriane embraces her mother and then touches Thalia's cheek before smiling and murmuring something softly. Turning to greet Khalid, she stops and blinks at Riana instead. Around, then, to the row of chairs upon the Queen's side of the room. Faanshi trades off her platter for a fresh one, this one stacked with small glasses of wine. The shudra approaches Altair and Callidora, murmuring, "Food for you, imphadi, imphada?" Drusus's gaze flicks away from the Shakir towards the source of the keening sound. It shifts over to the stage, watching for three heartbeats with an intensity most complete. And then he looks back to the Shakir and bows his head, perhaps in greeting or perhaps in apology for allowing himself to be distracted. "It is a fascinating occassion, Shakir," says Drusus in his quiet baritone. "A nexus of history." The feral nature of that grin which has lain upon Vayu's lips becomes doubly so now, and he even laughs aloud, clapping his hands once at the dancing cyprians. Sinking back to his chair with his hands overfolded lapward, his eyes reflect torchlight in the red spectrum. They blaze, burning like a fallow field at sunset, to consume all they observe in a haze of achingly detailed study. The eyes of the scientist, the mathematician, and the social engineer. Can he not cease being a diplomat for even *one* simple day? Perhaps not... after all, he does seem to enjoy his job. Apparently chaos has just ensued upon the dais, for Riana is now rushing the God-King in what appears to be an attempted hug. Khalid, for his part, is putting on a brave show in the face of this deadly Empyrean and holds his ground...ready to be embraced. A call that's not neglected, for behold. The Varati female freezes once more, before she bends. And bends. It's a quick movement, ending with her head and palms against the floor.. Behind her heels. Then, giving a pause to perhaps let her muscles settle, the Varati goes over. Feet go up into the air quickly, keeping her decency in check as they clasp her clothing between them, at the most giving a brief peek at her ankles. Then, the soles of her boots touch the ground in front of her face, and she straightens up again. Flushed, panting, sweating.. And moving to replace Kaia. A quick whisper from the dusky to the pale as she goes, still slapping those palms against her hips. Altair looks to Faanshi, smiling warmly but shaking his head. "No thank you, Imphada." He then turns to look to Callidora a moment. "Would you like something, my love?" Likewise briefly distracted by what transpires before Khalid and Thalia, Shahar hurriedly resumes her regard of the inscrutable creature before her. "I could not have better stated it, Dominus," she compliments with a slight bow, "and perhaps we...." *What* is Riana doing? "Your pardon. Perhaps we could, before you depart the citadel, speak of matters at present and matters to come?" Well, it's not /quite/ naked dancing around a bonfire, but it's pretty close. Elania's attention settles on the paired dancers, eyes darting away only to the copper cup she drinks from and Vayu. This dancing, this loss of self to the music.../this/, she can understand. Her attention can be a rather keen thing, even in casual times -- right now, it is riveted. "Pretty," she murmurs to herself, sing-song and happy. Another quick glance aside, this one to Yoritomo, who is greeted with a cheery, "Hello-to-you." Callidora looks up from Altair's gift to her as the shudra approaches. Callidora nods at the offering of food and slowly takes a couple hors d'oeuvres from the selection on the tray. "Thank you, Imphada." Poised forwards, hovering over his lap as he leans in the chair he happens to be squarely planted in, Yoritomo's webbed hands meticulously tilt together, the thumbs resting one upon the other, letting a turqoise gaze peer towards the festivities. They do hover over the dancing girls in an alert fashion, but hardly credit them as a sole draw of attention before drifting towards the fox-girl nearby. A break in his cool demeanor is noted as his lips part in a symmetrical smile, showing just the proper amount of teeth to Elania to convey a friendly air. "And to you as well, Shinzou." "I am only Faanshi," comes the whisper from the green-eyed girl in red and blue and gold. "But thank you." Swiftly and softly, then, the halfbreed ducks her gaze, bobbing her head politely and moving on to find someone else to proffer food and drink. Yes indeed, Thalia's golden daughter todes the unthinkable. In a brief flutter of white feathers and swirling cloth, she presses a hug upon the uncertainly braced God-King, whispers a few words for his ears alone, then steps back to her mother's side. If a stir is caused because of her actions, she takes no note, only shows pleasure over his response. Medea accepts the rose gently. A nod to both (Callidroa and Altair) then a smile as the light within the room dances across the clear rose to shine brilliantly. Held aloft between a pair of delicate fingers, the stem seems to move. The petals fold unto themselves, forming a bud. As quickly as breath passes the lips, the change is made. Softly, Medea's voice speaks to the pair as she whispers, "Your love is new, as this rose. Yet, even as the petals open.." the bud begins to open at her words, ".. and each new light shines on it.." the movement causes a gentle, yet brilliant light to shine within it, ".. I ask that you look to this rose, and the petals as they splay in open splendor.." the rose opens completely, a glorious delicate flower, its petals as thin as those of a real rose, yet of clearest diamond, ".. and think of the love that is new this moment. Remember it always, and this rose will always bloom." The rose is then given to Callidora, even more beautiful than when first brought from the box. It visibly moves, as if a breeze were to catch the petals and lift them off. When the Agni-Haidar do not descend from the celing and arise from the floor to slice her sister into a thousand pieces for daring to hug the god-king, Oriane -finally- remembers to breathe. No blood, no fire. Maybe things aren't as bad as they were seeming for a moment. Khalid Atar has faced many enemies on the field of battle, but Riana, Mistress of Ribbons, nearly undoes him this day. Somehow or the other, he manages to call up his courage and meet that hug with an embrace of his own. Words are exchanged, before the golden girl of the Empyre is let go to fly as she may. Large, heavy trays carrying beverages weigh on the servants' shoulders as they weave through the people. That intense, sharp gaze of Drusus' returns to the dias for the few moments that it takes him to discern that, no, Riana will neither be skewered nor roasted nor both. He returns his attention to the elegant lady of Khalida. "I would be pleased to do so, Shakir. Remember, however, that I do not bear the crown. My authority in matters diplomatic is limited." Faanshi casts Medea a brief, awed glance and then widens it to encompass Altair and Callidora, before she goes on about her appointed task. She circulates round to the chairs on the God-King's side of the great chamber, keeping well out of the line of sight of the performers. That activity up on the dais for a moment seizes her attention, though, and she can't quite help but gape. First she's seen the Khalid engaged in kissing; now she's seen him hugged. Wonders abound this night. Hidenouri chuckles aloud at something StormBearer says. Her gaze then turns back to the crowd, her eyes drawn to Yoritomo. A wry, nervous grin, and if it were not for the intentionally notched chin of determination, Kaia's feminine knees could very well be knocking like a little school girl's. Lively stepping to the forefront of the carpeted stage, a moment is taken to swoop both wings outwards in horizantal descent, skirts sweeping once more. An elegant curtsey for all. This is good. Riana comes back from hugging the God-King unscathed. It would have been a real damper on things if Thalia's pale daughter had been reduced to a pile of ash. Yes, that would have been a real drag. The Queen breathes a soft sigh, one of the relief variety, as Ria returns to her side. Ranjeet has arrived. The day is indeed noteworthy, for even Shahar can favor a candala with a brilliant, white-toothed smile. at the reaction from Drusus. "Call it only a matter of curiosity on my part, an exchange of ideals and courtesies and culture. Tomorrow morning, therefore? I realize for now you are anxious to speak to the Amir-al and others of note, hmm?" Ever the aloof social butterfly, Yoritomo straightens somewhat, resting his back firmly against that of the chair in a rigid pose. What a stick-in-the-mud. Still, he catches Hidenouri's look out of his peripheral vision and turns the appropriate degrees to focus a glance upon her, providing a gentle nod of acknowledgement. Chana-Cari smiles as she spots her akraba, Ranjeet. She lifts her hand in a wave, hoping he catches sight of it. Drusus inclines his head. "Tomorrow, Shakir. I will pay visit when your waterclocks stand at ten bells, if that pleases you, or when you send word." To and fro move the servants in the room, in a dance of their own as they crisscross each other with their laden and bare trays. So perfect is the servant's dance, that despite the crush of people no one collides and nothing is dropped. Food and drink are served with aplomb and dignity, as if the servants are proud of their skill and pleased to have a chance to show off even this form of Varati glory to the other races. To the side stands the director and choreographer, Maat's directions never cease. Shrimp is directed toward the Atlanteans. Chicken swaddled in a light blanket of pastry is directed toward some men who look in need of meat. With each opening of her mouth, an hand empty of drink or a mouth devoid of food has a servant sent toward it. Shahar hesitates not a jot. "Ten bells it shall be. Thank you, Dominus." "You are welcome...Imphada," says Drusus. The word sounds strange and it is touched with an accent rarely heard: a frontier's accent. Callidora accepts the most delicate of gifts from Medea as they sit down amongst the chairs on the Queen's side of the room. She blushes as she feels Altair's eyes upon her and smiles back at him lovingly, emerald eyes framed with scarlett fire lashes as she gazes upon him before returning them back to Medea. Obilivous to all else that is going on about them even perhaps Khalid and Thalia sitting upon the dais with Thalia's twin daughters, one dark, one golden but still each an Empyrean. Hidenouri holds Yoritomo's gaze and gives him a brief, angry frown. Just as quickly, her placcid expression returns. Separating himself from a small crowd of the Clan Al'Samar, Ranjeet smiles graciously, his eyes flickering here and there to examine and consider the variety of dress. As Chana waves to him, he inclines his head with a graious nod of acknowledgement, slowing wending his way through the massive crowds with a charming smile curling his lips. And the music is picked up again. The rythm of a heart, of a pulse, is slow at first. Near gentle, luring and soothing like a practiced don juan trying to get a young girl up on the dance floor. Taking it one step at a time, it's as calmly erotic as a hot bath upon having scented oils poured into it. Those red decored palms of Kala are caressing the skins of the drums, tickling and stroking the beat out. The voice is but a humm at first... A rich, vibrant backdrop to the drums, as dark and sweet and slow as cold molasses. She has no wings, but she has other means to add to the melody. There. A wooden flute is picked up by a near ancient looking Mongrel man, his features dark enough that he could easily be mistaken for a Varati himself if it wasn't for his fragile buildt. Here. A vina is plucked upon, the notes as sweet and demure of noise as the appearance of the Varati girl making them. The band is doing everything they can to make the job easy for the dancer. Anemone stands near Thalia and Riana and Oriane on the dais, but to the side. Attentive to their needs, pretty much. Shahar bestows a last, lingering gaze upon Drusus, a cryptic smile mystifying whatever may be inferred from her irises, then she bows and eases away with the ever-present Agni-Haidar quartet in tow. Time to mingle. Chana-Cari smiles back at Ranjeet, although somewhat a nervousness to it. "Imphadi, How nice to see you here." To Vayu and Elania next goes the halfbreed shudra. Faanshi has had instruction drummed repeatedly into her head, and that's about all that keeps her going as she bobs her covered head at these latest notables, offering up her latests samples of food and drink. Drusus returns the bow and then, upon straightening, becomes the observant still figure within its frame of Praetorian glory. He glances back towards the dias and then looks over to where the Princeps last stood. Entering into motion at last, the man walks over towards Leonidas. Bringing his palms together, Ranjeet bows fractionally, greeting, "Namaste' Chana-Cari ... I would not have missed this event for all the kingdoms of the Varati ... after all, it is my handiwork," he adds with a slight wink. "I need to make sure that my audience is well pleased with my creations so I know how to better serve in the future." Obviously well pleased with herself, Riana swivles to overlook all of the people. That a line is developing becomes apparent to the wing'd girl, and so, with a bit of reluctance, she dips a low curtsey toward both King and Queen, and then steps carefully downward. There'll be time for more happy family moments later. Riana descends from the dais. Greengold eyes turn from the hypnotizing dance to Faanshi, as the shudra approaches with food and drink. Elania bobs her head in a quick nod to the halfbreed, one hand coming up to readjust the shell-encrusted combs in her hair as she does. "Hello-to-you," she greets in her cheery warble, leaving the 'Imphada' off -- in her experience, it seems to trouble the shudra and naraki when they're referred to as such. "You enjoyed the wedding?" she wonders as she sets aside her empty copper cup and leans forward to look over the hors d'ouvres and beverages offered. As Riana descends from the dais, a servant appears at her side bearing a silver tray laden not with drink or foodstuffs but a splendid array of ribbons: wide ribbons, thin ribbons, ribbons that curl, ribbons with wavy edges, and in every imaginable color. However, in the very center of the tray is a singular color not repeated, a ribbon of purple, set on a plush background of white velvet as if it were a jewel. The servant kneels before the Empyrean girl and offers the items on the platter. The servant says nothing, but merely offers up the tray. Chana-Cari smiles, returning his bow with a polite nod of her head. "It is beautiful work, imphadi." She motions to the empty seats near by, an offer for him to sit if he wish. Hidenouri leaves for the atrium. Leonidas meets Drusus halfway through the approach, one hand still behind his back, hand hidden beneath his wings. He offers, when they meet, "Drusus Jove," as if the man didn't know his own name. "Here, Elania." Vayu's statement is punctuated with the offering of some other strange drink he's grabbed from a tray; along with it, he steals a pear - for everyone knows that pears are the best fruit on the face of the planet. "Good day, imphadi Yoritomo. Enjoying yourself, I hope?" he inquires pleasantly, handing the glass to Elania. This is a high-class event - meaning nobody ever finishes anything, and it's more about 'tasting the fruits of labour', rather than actually *eating* them. Sample enough, and you'll not only understand the lay of the land, but the way of thing. Bobbing his head, Vayu comments, "Thank you, Faanshi." He knows her name! Gasp! Amazing! Fragile and distinct, two characteristics which the winged performer chooses to play upon. Nimble fingers weave an imaginary border of fringe and frippery within the ample space before her, before an arc of toned flesh is defined. Shivering with tambourine flare, both wings stretch backwards as Kaia lifts to one bare, dainty foot to skim her duoed calf. The sensual arch of an angel, yet infiltrated with a sweet, niave essence as the daring pose is held. Another server approaches Chana-Cari, Ranjeet and Sunil, with beverages. "Princeps," says Drusus, quiet curiosity in his eyes. He regards the other, wings resting across his shoulders. His honor guard has remained in its place against the wall. Just then, Yoritomo blinks. Simply that-He blinks. With a demeanor as placid as a calm water, he returns to just being hunched forwards, looking but not touching anything, even the food proferred by the servants in this most fascinating of pageants. The reverie is finally broken as Vayu speaks to him, and with a gentle, sideways inclination of his head, he gives the Varati man an amicable nod. "But of course!" He responds, with audible enthusiasm in a smooth voice. "You are too kind," Ranjeet replies formally, though his tone is warm and friendly. Shaking his head with a gracious but reluctant smile, Ranjeet apologizes, "I am sorry ... but with all the excitement and conversation and food ... well, I have not yet had time to pay my proper respects. If you will forgive me?" Altair looks to the Dais a moment, then to Callidora. He whispers something to her... Actually, yes, it _is_ rather amazing. Faanshi is startled enough that she stares at Vayu in wonderment for three full seconds before recovering her composure and bobbing her head to him. Her attention flickers back to Elania, then, to whom she murmurs, "It was... " Words fail her. "It was magnificent," she then manages. Once Vayu and Elania are both attended, she turns to Yoritomo, offering him a sampling of her platter next. Speaking quietly to Khalid with an occasional glance at her mother, Oriane takes a step backwards and realize her sister is missing. Turning her head slightly, dark eyes widen as she sees the try of ribbons being presented to her golden twin. Chana-Cari thanks the server, taking one of the drinks offered. "Of course not, Imphadi." She smiles, nodding to Ranjeet. "As I said, it was nice to see you, Imphadi." Leonidas allows, "I was not certain we would see you here, what with preparations to be made. I am glad you could attend." "It would certainly have been seen as an offense," says Drusus quietly. "Although I hold no rank at present. How fare you, sir?" The notes are plucked from the air like birds eating sweet berries, one after the other carefully devoured to leave only the small seeds. But then it changes. Just a fraction of an inch, a whisper of a challenge, as the humm turns into a low song. An ancient one, bespeaking the beauty of woman. Not any particular woman, not even the varati woman, but Woman. The Female. The naivity and apparent innocence of the dancer is counterparted by the faintly suggestive rythm of those drums.. As the heart is picking up the pace, the speed of the pulse increasing. Flute and vina are but frosting, precious sidedishes to the main course. That of the drum and the dancer. Varati and Empyrean, one stroking and fingering the skin of the instrument, the other caressing the floor and the air. Delicately extending a snowy, webbed hand, Yoritomo makes a gesture of polite denial at the offered food. Really, none often ask of an Atlantean's dietary preference much around the world of the drylanders, and it could be that the look he gives some of the items on display be akin to a grimace of discomfort? Some things were not made for digestion by some people. "Thank you, but it is no need. I am not hungry." Anemone appears to have realized Thalia is one daughter shy on the dais and, with a hasty bow and a last glance to the new queen, she removes herself from the royal presence to follow the trail of ribbons and find Riana. Anemone descends from the dais. Brushing lightly forward, Riana is brought to a sudden halt by the approach of the servant and his burden. It takes a long moment for the girl to realize that she is not being offered food, and an even longer moment for her to realize just what is arrayed before her. Ribbons! It is just as well that she has already cried away most of her eye makeup, as tears of absolute joy spring anew. Reaching with tentative fingers, she plucks that oh-so-special purple one from the center, and then slowly turns back toward the dais. A low curtsey and a special smile is delivered to Khalid-Atar, alone. If he thought he'd seen true devotion before in his long lifetime, it has now been outmatched. Clearly she would love to rush him once again, but one earth shattering hug for the night is most likely enough for this crowd. Altair takes Callidora's arm in his, standing from the table. They walk towards the Dais, looking towards the God-King and his Queen. Stopping, they await a turn with the newlyweds. Taking a drink as well, Ranjeet lifts it to Chana is a small unspoken toast. "And you Imphada - may the night cover you with the blessings of this joyous union and see you well on your way to your own." He inclines his head graciously, accepting a meat roll proferred by yet another servant, and eating it with relish and taste, he turns to wend his way gracefully through the crowd. For a moment, when he thinks no one is looking, Khalid's lips creep into the quickest of grins and a fiery blue eye flickers in an amused wink at Riana. Yes, even the God-King has a sense of humor. As quickly as it appeared, it is gone and he forces that calm, stoic and regal expression upon his handsome features once again. Turning to follow after her sister, Oriane stops and then turns to fiercely hug her mother, planting a kiss on Thalia's cheek. Queen or no, she is still her mother. Then, with a quick smile, she turns and moves to her sister's side. Leonidas's eyebrows lift. "Well, well enough, and my thanks for asking. Glad," he adds, stealing a glance at a passing servant, "that we avoided insult." "As you wish, imphadi," murmurs Faanshi to Yoritomo, then, her head shyly bowed, her gaze lowered away from his visage, and accordingly she does not note his slight wince of distaste. Her attention creeps off again, looking for the next person in line, the next person in the sea of unfamiliar faces and races, the next noble she needs to attend. Drusus murmurs a response to the Princeps. Oriane descends from the dais. Rabi straightens up slightly, lifting pen from paper. She glances out at the supplicants and, with the writing instrument, singles out Altair and his companion as the next to approach eternity. Sails flush with an extravegant, upwards slashing as Kaia's silver mane drips to coat the floor with a metallic glimmering, bare arms outstretched as slim shoulders begin to quake. Quality gyrations of perfectly matching artistic attitude twine a feeling of feminine force and refinement. Wild and elusive, as the slap of heels mingle atwixt both worlds. Leonidas's brow furrows as he responds to Drusus, attention wandering over the room and her occupants. Elania sits down in the row of chairs on the King's side of the dais. Riana couldn't float any higher were she to suddenly take flight. Oh yes, she catches Khalid's wink, and a tinkle of delighted laughter lifts up from her before she turns back to examine the delights of her gift. Anemone and Oriane bothe are drawn to her sides to look over the tray in minute detail. The deepest smile graces Thalia expression, brought about by Oriane's kiss and Riana's joy. Trailing her gaze after her darkling daughter, she does not depart from her until she's made it to her sister's side. It is then that the Queen looks off to the side, to the dark-winged God and King who is now her husband. The smile remains but grows softer, more inward. Only a moment can be spent there, though, her attention shifting to Altair and his companion as they are motioned forward. Altair looks up to Rabi as he and Callidora are called upon. He nods, giving a little swallow as he moves closer to eternity. Alaia approaches from the atrium. Altair stands and leaves the row of chairs on the Queen's side. Altair ascends up the dais. Zuhayr approaches from the atrium. Drusus nods slightly, his expression softening. He withdraws from Leonidas to speak with his 'staff', if the guards can be said as much. There is a moment of hesitation among them, but then they nod in agreement with whatever it is he is saying. They stay put as he returns to Leonidas' side. Stopping here and there to speak with one of his Varati brethern, Ranjeet slowly but surely carves a path for himself toward the long line of well-wishers. His steps bring him closer to the performers, and he watches them with an appreciative eye, his hands lightly clapping in response to the music and the talent before him - surprising to find such knowledge of Varati styles in an Empyreans repetory ... though the wings add a different slant and balance to the whole. His glass is exchanged for another, and just as quickly drained with pleasure. A small entourage enters the already amassed throng. First it is Kaimikam Zuhayr and his consort, Alaia, each with an arm around the other. Although, by all appearances, it is the former which supports the weaker, feminine frame. Weak, indeed, for it is her twin newborns that follow, wrapped within the enveloping, snuggling arms of one bustling Khadisha. Gazing down fondly at Riana for long moments, and with gentler expression on Oriane, Khalid raises his gaze to exchange a tender look with his Queen and wife. She is such a stark contrast to him, yet the perfect complement in so many ways. Tearing his attention from Thalia, he studies Altair and his companion with an impassive expression. Reaching her sister's side, Oriane smiles fondly at her sister, touching the regrown blond locks before murmuring softly, "They're beautiful, Riana. And will be even more so in your hair." Though she's attentive to her sister, dark eyes lift and wander to another point in the room for a moment. Leonidas once again nods to Drusus as he is rejoined, then with a squaring of his shoulders, and resettling of his wings, he starts forward toward the queue to speak with Thalia and Khalid. Quicker. Faster. The heart is beginning to pound in it's nonexistant chest, no longer that of a person in love, but of a Lover. Not even pausing as the drummer is replaced by another female, Kala joining Kaia on the floor to Dance. The Varati female's hips are circling around and around in one direction, her upper body moving in the other whilst the golden ring in her navel is near sparkling like a tiny, hollowed out star. Swirling once, before moving in closer, a dusky hand trailing momentarily over the other's feathers. Dancing, like the duo that they are, whilst her voice keeps up the lyrics. Woman, all the uncountable things that are you. Dusky skin against creamy pale, brown eyes glittering green as they meet the indigo, black locks catching to the platinum. Rabi glances up from her work and sees Zuhayr and his family, so newly expanded. Delight dances in her eyes before she returns her attention to the Amir-al, his words, his guests. Her pen touches down again, drawing more words. Drusus walks alongside the Princeps, feathers rustling quietly with each step. Belatedly, Elania covets Vayu's...pear. Not quite a peach, but it's fruit, and her sweet tooth knows no bounds when it comes to the many varieties of sweetsoftwet. Another drink to be discreetly sniffed-at, as well; she blinks, drawing back from it a little. Stronger, this one, and definately not kaffe. She tries a sip, pronounces it good, and drinks deeper. "She had green eyes, Vayu, did you see?" she wonders after the fact, sucking the sweet-sharp flavour of the drink off her bottom lip. Supporting indeed. Zuhayr's steps are necessarily slow, arm curled as it is around Alaia's waist. He murmurs, frequently, to her, and to the shudra walking behind them as well. Riana follows Oriane's gaze, and her smile falters just a tiny bit. With a soft nudge and a lifting of several offerings, she speaks quietly to her sister. "Will you come with me to try these out? Veils are pretty, but ribbons..." her voice trails off. Need she say more? "She's a halfbreed, dear," Vayu answers of Elania, smiling vaguely. "She probably has Graisha-blood in her, you know.. and she has healing magic, too." Spreading the Shudra's secrets, Vayu! For shame! He drinks his newest drink, regarding the festivities as if from on high. Alaia's children have been born, it seems, and to her he offers a smile and a nod - he's not close with Zuhayr's consort, but she's a smart woman, and pleasant. Perhaps not so surprising, two of the slowly moving group happen to be the smarter of the bunch, and at present? Sound asleep, despite the prevailing chaos. Alaia, on the other hand, alights quite considerably as the joyous occassion has no doubt touched deep within her expanded heart. Vayu's nod is returned, even as a cheek nuzzles her Kaimikam. At last, her current platter is emptied, and Faanshi finds herself momentarily between duties. Safely out of the way, the shudra checks her pockets, to see if the humble gift with which she has been entrusted is still safely there. It is. Accordingly, she asks for and receives leave to approach the array of gifts that has been assembled for the God-King and his bride. The two items she pulls forth for the inspection of -- well, of those who are in charge of the gifts -- are a small bound scroll and an ornate pouch of red velvet, trimmed in blue and gold. Settling himself in line, Ranjeet watches the dancing pair with bright interest, the curl of his lips indicating his pleasure and approval of their efforts. That is one thing ... not enough dancing at this wedding. In the eastern lands of the Varati, weddings are not so formal or restrained. There is drumming, dancing, drinking, and, well, other joyous "acts". Smiling wryly in rememberance, Ranjeet shakes his head, taking up another drink, though doing so might not be so wise. Without realizing it his feet start to shift, as if dying to dance as well, but the motions are restrained. Pulling her eyes back from another in the room, Oriane blinks once at Riana and gives a wan little smile, "Alright." Helping her sister with the piles of ribbons, the darkling and her twin move towards the exit and their guest chamber, a guard trailing after them for both their protection and to keep them from wandering where they should not. Oriane leaves for the atrium. "Really?" Elania's eyes widen a little, and she turns to look in the direction Faanshi was last spotted, curious to spot the shudra again. So many veil'd servants to pick through -- she thinks she spots the girl once, leaning this way and that, then gives up the search with a mild sigh. Her teacher's attention has been diverted, and hers turns in that way as well. Greengold eyes soften as a quiet trill hums in the back of her throat. "Babies," she happysighs wistfully, watching. Riana leaves for the atrium. Ebony. Ivory. Sugar. Spice. Despite the exhertion derived from such a liquid, velveted dance, Kaia's enjoyment finds no boundaries. All honor is bestowed the Queen with such patpatted steps of jive upon the thin, oceanic carpets, heat and vitality radiating from the makeshift, wooden stage. A variant upon the gifts first offered by Faanshi and her kinswoman Ulima upon their deliverance from Clan Sarazen, what the shudra presents for the inspection of the Agni-Haidar proves to be a rida scroll on the finest paper an Ushashti priestess can acquire, with a blessing of the Khalid's holy Mother enscribed thereon in Ulima's aged hand. Beneath it is a far simpler line of script, the work of Faanshi. The embroidered pouch is proven to contain herbs; questioned as to their purpose, the shudra whispers timidly and blushingly to the guard that they are for the blessing of marriage. As herbal lore is not exactly the province of the Agni-Haidar, an Atarvani is waved over to confirm the pouch's contents, and the priest proclaims them what the girl has stated. Altair bows to the God-King and his Queen, bidding farewell. "May you have clear skies." He steps carefully away from them, away from the Dais. While Callidora decides to return to her seat and rest a spell, Altair looks towards Leonidas and Drusus, beginning a slow approach... Altair descends from the dais. How long have they been dancing? A couple of hours? And still, neither Varati performer nor Empyrean seem to tire just yet. The music picks up further, beginning to edge over from 'fast' to 'pounding', silks swirling around sweat shimmering bodies.. And then the change comes again. Hollowed out, wooden sticks beat against each other with a near bell like sound, a sibling to the drum.. Exotic flavouring being added to the already existing sensuality, a sheer eroticism as the voice of Kala goes lower. Deeper. Richer. Clasping her hands behind the back of her head, her knees bend as her feet go together. Swaying whilst she goes lower in front of the Empyrean, squirming this way and that, her spine is doing a swaying motion that seems near impossible. High on adrenaline now, endorphines to kill that hint of ache in her muscles, she's nearing the peak of the performance. The words are of how a woman can drive a man crazy, now. The little things, the unexpected bearing of the delicate, soft flesh at the back of the knee, the inside of the elbow. Near complaining tone, at the same time as she also seems to be near laughter. Teasing and teased, alluring and lured. Vayu stands and leaves the row of chairs on the King's side of the dais. Rabi looks up from her work and over the line of those waiting to speak with the God-King and his bride. Two Empyreans stand at the fore and she examines them briefly before gesturing that they may approach, her pen pointing out the figures of Leonidas and Drusus. Standing, Vayu regards the room with a half-smile and the twinkle present in his eye; such are his gifts to the God-King and Queen Thalia. Not much, but what can a man give, who desires nothing but to serve? Turning from the assembled revelers - and in what appears to be abrupt departure - he walks from the Throne Room. Perhaps he's getting some air. Vayu leaves for the atrium. Altair walks on past the two with a nod in greeting, hoping he might have a chance to see them before the reception is through. Drusus regards the scribe and inclines his head to her, acknowledging the acknowledgement. At Leo's side, he steps forward. Leonidas follows Drusus, inclining his head likewise to the woman who writes so diligently for her king. Drusus ascends up the dais. Zuhayr guides Alaia toward the line as well, to wait. Leonidas ascends up the dais. At the demanding turn of the dance, a soft uulation breaks out from the crowds watching, an appreciative fluctuating cry encouraging the Varati woman to yield to them every last ounce of her talent. Ranjeet joins in the cry as well, his hands clapping with the driving rhythm of the drums as he watches with obious enjoyment. There is a discreet tap upon his shoulder though, and turning he realizes with some surprise that he is next in line. For a moment he is torn between responding to the performance and preparing for his audience. Finally he finds a middle ground between the two, still watching the dance, but bringing his reactions down a few degrees. An answering soprano, crystal with clarity, sultry satisfaction licking each torrid note as Kaia's wings taunt. Tantilizing flutterings glide alongside her counterpoint's bared, tightened belly, before whisking to trail a sizzling path before her, explicit with invitation, a hint at feminine wiles, a suggestion of more. Her duty done as best she can fulfill it, Faanshi leaves her gift safely with the rest, and hastily returns to a shudra's appointed tasks. Words are exchanged between Khalid and Leonidas, but it is Drusus who seems to win the God-King's attention in the end. Elania watches Vayu leave, expression hovering tremulously between disappointment and dismay. Her teacher is /always/ leaving. Hmf. She wilts a bit, settling back further in her chair, one knee drawn up towards her chin, drink-free hand clasped 'round her shin. She sips frequently from her glass, attention restlessly flicking over the rest of the room, stopping most often on Yoritomo and the paired dancers. Shinjukou enters from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine. More? They want more? Now Kala is laughing, a chuckling quality that's transplanted to the song, Woman's taunting teasing reply to Man's plead for mercy. And her legs are parting, the bend still to them though the distance between her feet is getting larger. Wider with each shake, each squirm, whilst her back is doing a bend that just HAS to get her strained muscles tomorrow morning. Back and down she goes, keeping her balance in the impossible position of having the back of her head nearing the floor whilst her legs seem intent on spreading to a completely horisontal line over the floor. Thank Ushas for the slits in her sari, the hidden seams that keep her skirt from riding up on her hips. Faster, faster, the pounding is over going to a frenzied call, the palms of the drummer screaming with pain from the slapping impacts with the skin, the flute shrieking out notes that are still somehow pure, the vina all but vibrating with the urgent movements of the hands of it's wielder. And the Varati's voice is panting, laughing, Man begging and pleading for mercy.. At the same time as asking for more. As the night wends on, a single tiring shudra halfbreed makes it at last to the end of her appointed shift of service. The excellent guidance of Maat and those others who have commanded the arrangements of the shudra and naraki this night have arranged for fresh replacements to boost the first wave of servants before any encroaching weariness is obvious. And accordingly, as unnoticed as she came -- or at least as far as Faanshi can tell, for after all, one cannot see much with one's eyes shyly diverted floor-ward -- exeunt the young servant girl, stage out. [End log.]