"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 <TR>

"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 <A>  Shrine to Vinita <SV> 

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 <TR>

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)
<Desc deleted>
Contents: 
Maat 
Kaia  
Flower
Obvious Exits:
Atrium <A>  Shrine to Vinita <SV> 

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.]