Date: September 25, 2000 (Aether: February 24, 3907)
Place: Atrium - Hall of the Sky - Palladium - Haven
Cast: Agrippina (Thalia), Aurora (II), Cassius, Claudius, Cressida (general emits, and Quillion Favian), Drusus, Elanus Helena, Magnus, Niherlas, Oriane, Pandora, Pantoleon, Phineas (Jana), Selene, Versus
Scene: The new Aegians are announced at a reception in the Palladium.

The Hall of the Sky. A proud place, lofty of location, lofty of utilization, for it is adjacent to the place in Haven that the Emperor calls home. Tonight, bathed in the warm, comforting glow of a thousand candles, it is host to a gathering of those of the Empyreal Aegis within this city.

Far fewer than the hundreds of proud politicians who normally people such a gathering -- for most remain within the confines of Civitas Dei -- those half dozen who reside in Haven and the other luminaries invited to this august gathering fit easily into the decorated Hall.

Heavy velvet sweeps of color in the hues of the Aegis help retain the warmth that is proffered by strategically arranged braziers; winter's frightful chill shall not dampen the spirits of this reception, not with those brilliant, blazing braziers and not with the dots of fire elementalists placed in the chamber's corners.

Warm, too, shall remain the food stretched out on awaiting tables, festooned with cloth of gold accenting linen weaves, emiting seasoned scents to tantalize and inspire tummies to grumble.

The gathering's organizer spared no expense and overlooked no detail to the comfort of those in attendance: when should a fete with the truly powerful and wealthy of the Empyre be short-shrifted in luxury? Not ever, and assuredly not here.

Escorted by old Haggus Malarius, Helena is left to walk alone into the hall, her guard remaining near the door, outside. Dressed to impress today, no detail is left unnoticed, from shining locks to superbly straightened dress, she walks as if she were Empress for a day. If anyone has ever seen Aurora smile this brilliantly, that is.

Cassius steps into the hall unaccompanied, either by guard or by companion. He's looking as austere as ever, formally-dressed for the occasion in his toga picta, that bears the purple 'clavus,' or stripe, denoting an Aegian. His gaze rakes over those gathered, more to ascertain who is present than to seek out anyone in particular.

Their brilliance undimmed by the wintry chill without, the auric-garbed party of House Acesius makes an entrance as quiet as it is visually striking. The Deus Pantoleon and the peerless Dea Selene enter, arm-in-arm in as polite a display of unity as might be hoped for. Heads high and wings flawlessly composed, the pair step into the warmth of the hall, expressions smiles of matching composure.

It is some moments after Cassius' entrance that Magnus appears and joins the gathering -- a timing that is perhaps deliberate. While he is attired appropriately, the most discerning of eyes would be able to note the strain on the resources of the Empyre. Though impeccably dressed, it is still "last year's" fashion. Still, his bearing is undeniably noble and he nods amicably to a number of those already gathered, weaving his way into the throng.

Soft footfalls portend the approach of an elderly Praetorian in full military dress as he enters. Legate Claudius Malleus Areides walks smoothly into the great Hall, steel-grey eyes scanning everyone, and everything. Even those who knew him well before his deployment might not recognize the Legate now: Claudius seems leaner, harder, and infinitely more remote. There's a firm set to his features that speaks of a man who would rather be with his troops in the field than attend so sumptuous a gathering here in Haven.

An unobtusive entrance is what Pandora prefers; the silver-winged woman cutting a thin swath for her sandaled feet into the hall with whispered steps. Blessedly warm compared to the inclement night outside, braced fingers are unfurled, flexed in the newfound tepid temperature. Gaze sweeps the room, arcing over the architecture first before seizing each one of the noble faces gathered in her grasp; no one she really knows. And being vulnerably unaccompanied, she does what any self-respecting loner would do. She wanders near the food table to take sentry for now.

Those who frequent Civitas Dei, those who know of the prominent families, may -- may -- recognize the sliver of femininity who arrives in the wake of the Acesian pair. At first, so close to them is she, one may mistake her for a follower of some variety, here to fetch wine and carry tidbits of food, to brush lint from Selene's wings or what have you. But no, closer inspection reveals the diminutive woman is past the first bloom of youth, and her dignified carriage is hardly that of a servant.

The truly clued may know her as Cressida Januarius, sister-in-law to the Deus, but most may think she is Yet Another Fair-Faced Empyrean. One of the crowd.

The Imperial entrance: as usual, Drusus' Schola are much flashier in appearance than he, their gilded cuir-boiulle curaiss' catching the light of braziers and throwing it back in a dazzling glitter. Very proper, they are, in pure red tunics with pure white wings.

The Emperor is dressed plainly, as is his wont, and is armed and armored, as is his wont. If he has any particular expression on today, it is that he is not particularly displeased. Beyond that, it's hard to tell; his distant eyes offer no insight into his mind.

His tattered wings, regrowing, rest across his arms to avoid dragging their feathers on the ground. As his Schola fall out into positions of guardianship around the room, Drusus continues forward, inclining his head to those nearby who are bowing. It seems that his course will take him to Cassius, if the latter does not suddenly veer in another direction.

Slow but determined, Phineas enters this dignified hall with a proud tilt to his head. Pale eyes roam over the mingled faces, giving no particular amount of attention to any fair countenance in the crowd. Mmm.... Socializing. How long has it been since he has bothered to come to one of these parties? Long enough to have forgotten how to muster a charming smile and make small talk with the fairer sex. A passing servant is halted with a sharp gesture of an upraised hand, fingers soon plucking up a delicate goblet of wine.

Arriving quitely, without fanfare and, she hopes, without much notice, the dark-haired Tritonides scholar moves to the back of the gathering. Oriane's presence is quiet as ever while she lifts a hand to brush strands of dark back from her equally dark eyes.

Like Pandora, Cassius strolls closer to the food table. Not that he looks hungry, but it's a fair vantage point by which he might study the throng. He absently reaches out to pluck a grape from a bowl, popping it into his mouth just as he notices Drusus veering toward him. The grape is swallowed with some haste as the Aegian offers a brief, formal bow to the Emperor.

Smiling politely this way and that, Helena wanders through the crowd, touching a familiar arm here, exchanging a few words there, as if this was her social event, not someone else's. That is, until she spots Cassius near the table, and excitement makes her smile even wider. She is already shortening the distance to him when he bows to Drusus, and she hesitates.

Claudius moves into a position by the door, half-watching, and half-seeming like he's guarding the place. When Drusus enters, Claudius snaps him a quick, formal salute, before his eyes narrow on the Emperor's tattered wings, and his guards. He heard about the battle in the Rialto. As an ex-Schola himself, the elderly Areides has been wondering if the Schola who failed to protect their Emperor were executed, or allowed an honorable suicide.

Part of the remaining assembly that does not flock toward Cassius, Cressida relieves a server of one goblet of wine and takes a drink of substantial size. Not from nervousness, no: the swallow was professionally done and is followed by a morsel of cheese from a nearby table. Eyes flitter this way and that like a drunken butterfly while she soaks in the ambiance and the wine in one fell swoop. Winter is outside, but within the Hall of the Sky, jocularity should prevail. Politics and verbal backstabbing notwithstanding, of course.

Drusus returns Claudius' salute, an eyebrow raising slightly as he recognizes him who has greeted him. "Legate," he says, another greeting, and then he has arrived by Cassius. Lest his presence frighten off those who wish to get to the food, he says, after replying to Cassius' bow with a nod of his own, "Ave, Deus. Good evening. Would you walk with me a moment?"

A gesture of his left hand, vaguely echoed by the wing of that side, indicates an area which is not likely to block access to the victuals.

A slave arrives and offers drink; Drusus says, "my thanks," in his quiet baritone as he snags a glass from the tray. The same is offered to Cassius as the Emperor awaits his reply.

Servants who mingle through the gathering crowd pass out goblets of wine and ambrosia with a seeming unending supply to wet the tongue of the Empyreans who content themselves with light conversation and an evening of people-watching. Nimble fingers pluck a pair of goblets from a passing tray, one is kept in the hands of the Acesian Dea, the other passed to her husband, coupled with a smile for his benefit.

Selene do not yet drink, however, her attention is more focused on those here and those who continue to arrive. Her first attempt to approach someone, her Jovian cousin, Helena, is stalled as the younger woman takes off in another direction. Her eyes follow her cousin momentarily and then resume their study of the group while quietly commenting to Pantoleon.

Schmoozing with the crackers is what Pandora excels at. She isn't even really adept at that, though -- lifting a morsel to her mouth, a wayward red curl interposes itself, somehow, between lips and food. Not quite the snack she expected. Unheeded at first, the woman chews her hair with zest until... well... until she realizes it's her hair and plucks it from her mouth with as much daintiness as can be mustered.

Tell-tale damp curl is shoved back behind her barrette adornments, her eyes flicking to see if anyone really caught that mishap. She has a reputation to protect and all, yanno. Perhaps this wasn't the best place to take up hermit residence. Politely, Pandora nods to Cassius and smiles before rewarding herself, too, with a grape. A bow would be afforded to the ruler; but he seems busy elsewhere. And, well, she has eating to do.

Magnus's eyes rake the crowd, following its ebb and flow. One particular eddy draws his note and the Jovian throws himself in the current that swirls about the Emperor, only to draw away at the last moment, stepping beside Helena and touching her arm gently. "Good eve, cousin," is his polite greeting, mild smile and milder tone still somehow requiring her attention.

The long-time patriarch of House Favianus is the envoy from the central body in Civitas Dei. Quillion Favian is his name, and politics have been his venue since retiring from the military. Of a senior age, he is no wizened, doddering old man, but rather a railish whip, honed to sinew and bone, with the penetrating stare of a golden hawk.

As he steps upon the vaguely elevated central platform, dignity and command drawn about him like tailored attire, he stares at those collected, those anticipatory to hearing the elections' results, and clears his throat to drown the babble of speculative conversation.

A particular look, professorial and down the nose, is offered to the Emperor and Cassius as they meader off together. He shall wait until attention is upon him to venture into the proclamations that have made this evening requisite. Or he will bloody well ensure he gets their attention.

That's what booming militaristic voices are for.

"Of course, Deus Maximus," is Cassius's smooth reply. And just to help establish the informality of his impromptu 'chat' with the Emperor, the Aegian plucks up a handful of grapes, like Pandora, before moving toward Drusus' left and leaving the table open for guests. He catches Helena's gaze as he moves past, and while he doesn't precisely smile, there is a brief lightening of his expression. The slave offering wine is waved off with a negligent hand.

If she could, Oriane would slip away from the gathering and find a perch above the crowd to simply watch the ebb and flow of conversation and social standing. Since she cannot, though, she'll hover at the edge of the crowd. A goblet of ambrosia is accepted from a passing servant, but otherwise, the young scholar stays separate from those that she watches.

Oh, are not the rooftops lovely? Will it not be nice when the gardens are in bloom once more? And oh, there is a seamstress who makes the most beautiful stolas that you have ever seen. Such idle conversation drifts over towards Phineas, and the man must visibly refrain from rolling his eyes. His goblet is considered as one might ponder the writings of Virgil and Homer, before the aging Aegian once more commences his stroll deeper into the hall.

Only once does he glance back towards the pair of gossiping, young noblewomen. Pale eyes narrow as he lightly sidesteps a slave. Hmm... Gods preserve him from encountering such brainlessness in his first victim for a conversation.

Helena can hardly hide her disappointment, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, biting her lip, her eyes not leaving Cassius until her arm is touched and a small sound comes from her lips. She looks at Magnus precisely the moment Cassius looks at her. "Cousin, how dare you give me such a fright?" It sounds harsher than she meant, and instantly, she tries to ease the pain by smiling charmingly. "You are well?"

Drusus, too, almost smiles when he passes Helena and murmurs, "Cousin," to her. Like Cassius, his expression is more of a gentling of his features than an actual smile. Then he's past, the delicate and lovely fluted ambrosia glass looking like it might break any second within the awkward grasp of his coarse fingers. It does not break, not yet.

He opens his mouth to say something more and then observes Quillion's gaze upon him. "Ah," Drusus says. "A moment, I fear. Dominus Favian is ready to make his announcements." He nods to the man, indicating that he may proceed if he so desires.

Claudius demurs as a passing server offers him a glass of wine, sending the young man off with a look and a shake of his head. The Legate remains where he was, standing easily in his position, neither seeking, nor readily accepting the sort of polite conversation that goes on at events such as this. He has flown long and hard to attend this event, and that is enough for now.

Pantoleon accepts the goblet proffered to him with a dip of his head, and a deepened smile, one that brings a spark or light to his pale azure eyes. He is content to soak up the ambiance that had so long been denied him in this wretched city: the splendor of the Empyre's elite... It is a sight to make one proud.

Drawing in a deep lungful of the warm air, the Acesian Deus releases it with his smile undiminished. Raising one pale eyebrow before he samples his fine drink, Pantoleon murmurs a comment to Selene, politely behind the brim of his goblet.

A minor part of House Jove makes his entrance several moments after most of the others, humming softly to himself. Elanus has entered the building.

The first goblet of wine is dispatched without ado; Cressida finds a second recently filled and samples it rather than addressing it with the same impatience that saw the hasty demise of the first. She eyes Pantoleon and Selene in a lingering, assessing manner before the gaze skirts past Drusus and Cassius (ah, there is something that makes one wish for supernatural hearing), and lands on Oriane with her raven hair. But alas, the proclamation from the Aegian representative arrests her focus, and toward Quillion Favian she looks.

Magnus smiles and murmurs, "Why, the desire for your company for but a moment, Helena. But... will you wait?" He lifts his chin to the stalwart announcer and then favors Helena with a wry smile, "I do not relish the thought of having to speak over what this one has to say."

Wine consumed by now, Phineas of House Fortuna plunks down the empty goblet upon the tray of one of those bountiful slaves. Hardly more than a passing thought is given to the servant before he follows the crowd's general line of attention and looks up towards Quillion Favian. Pale, broad wings rustle at his back and refold with an impatient snap.

Selene laughs softly at whatever is shared between husband and wife, only to silence herself with a 'shhh-ing' motion with her free hand toward her mouth and then a gesture toward Quillion Favian. "Later," she murmurs to Pantoleon, now directing her attention away from the Deus.

Full lips pursed in impatience, Helena nods curtly to Magnus. Men and politics, two things she will never understand... But she remains quiet, like a good little noble-bred girl, her eyes longingly set on a distantly passing tray of ambrosia, then lured back to Cassius.

While he awaits the announcement and lingers by the Emperor's side to await whatever it is that the younger man wished to tell him, Cassius occupies himself with eating a few grapes and endeavoring not to look bored. Although any hints of such an expression vanish as he catches sight of Magnus, standing there speaking to Helena. His pale blue eyes narrow almost immediately, and his wings -- carefully composed at his back -- give a sudden, crisp rustle.

Deep-voiced, in the tradition of soldiers and lifetime battlefield commanders, Quillion Favian proclaims, "Greetings unto you, Domini, Dominae, and Deus Maximus." One must bow to the Emperor at some point, and now arrives that time for Quillion. The bow is brisk, and he is speaking the instant he is upright once more.

"The Aegis thanks you for attending. Bear with me but a moment longer and what was once a secret shall be such no more." He then unfurls a snowy length of parchment and regards it critically, as if he had not before glimpsed its contents... which is, assuredly, not the case.

"These are the results of the elections held the day of 1 February, proclaiming those who shall have the honor of representing their Houses to the Aegis and, thus, to serve the Empyre in all her glory. Leonidas Thanatos Tritonides is reaffirmed as Princeps, all hail and be thankful."

Moving right along. "First, House Jove." A look is slanted toward those in attendance from the Emperor's house, and crisply Quillion announces, "Elected Aegian for Jove is Magnus Aurelius Jove."

A slight crest in the ripples of gossip and schmooze announces the arrival of the Empress herself. On one delicate arm is a gangly Empyrean with a balding, grey-blonde pate, recognizable to some Aegians as a provincial governor -- probably one the Empress has met on her travels.

At her other arm is a tall, lovely blonde woman -- probably his wife, visiting Haven as well. The woman's ornate, gilt-dusted hairstyle could be the reason behind this small party's tardiness. But the Empress only smiles graciously, guiding the visitors to some other official whom they do not yet know but whom she thinks they should, and with a smooth, quiet introduction -- so as not to disturb the announcements -- she sets them loose.

The colors of the Empress's chimere are stunning in their warmth, but she has not heeded the gentle suggestion that guests dress for the chill weather. Nary a goosebump rises on her arms, however.

Agrippina passes through the doors from the atrium and stands near the foot of the Hall.

None of these appointments are any surprise to the Aegians present, as they'd voted in the new parties by correspondence or through meetings. The announcements are only to formalize what had already been accomplished. Still, at the mention of Magnus' name, Cassius clenches his fingers, unwittingly, and ends up squishing the grape he'd been about to eat.

He's lucky enough not to dribble it on his chiton, but he does have to reach over to the table and grab up a napkin with which to swab his fingers.

Contemplative eyes roam about the crowd for the new Jovian Aegian, but the search is not carried out for long before Phineas abandons the attempt. Too many fair heads and pure wings. Thick fingers idly flick over the folds of his toga picta, smoothing folds back into perfection, and a patronizing smile is given to a whispering young couple at his side.

Helena's eyes brighten as she finds Cassius looking at her and she mouths words to him, telling him she has something to tell him, and those watching might even understand the soundless phrase, if there was one good at lip reading. Her one-way conversation is interrupted by the announcement, and in surprise, she takes a step back, curiously looking at her cousin, and finding that all the eyes moving in their direction is not at all to her liking. Quietly, she tries to make her way to the nearest tray.

Magnus reacts little to the announcement, and it may be that he well expected it. Of all reactions, however, his eyes slide aside to catch Cassius', a faint twitch curling one corner of his mouth upwards. Then, his steps lead him a bit forward to turn and address the whole of the gathering, briefly.

His mild baritone cuts cleanly through any continuing murmur of the throng. "I cannot give you thanks, for that would be assuming that the rank which has been bestowed upon me is a gift. It is not. I fully accept the responsibility of this position, and hope that I may serve the Empyre and its people well."

Claudius remains standing where he is, steel-grey eyes never at rest, but scanning the crowd continuously. The Legate listens to the announcements, and reads what he may in the faces and actions of others as they react -- or don't -- to each word.

Some might call it fashionably late, but the iron-haired figure which breeches the area from the courtyard would be forthright and state that she is tardy. White wings, edged with silver, grey of hair as well as grey of dress, Agrippina Valeria Juventas marches into the assembly without aid of a cane or even a young boy to lean upon.

Though her stride is careful rather than martially brisk, its rhythmic stomp quickly takes her over toward Cassius Augustin. His mishap with the grapes does not go unnoticed by her, and she looks down disapprovingly. "Cassius," she murmurs peremptorily.

A mental checkmark seems to be made as Cressida eyes the noble, hawkish countenance of the newly named Aegian. Hrmph. Her emptied goblet is returned to its former locale while she listens to Magnus, then, at his statement's conclusion, she turns back toward Quillion.

The Acesian Dea's expression is a contrast to that of the Augustin Deus as it settles on her Jovian cousin, now named a member of the Aegis. It's not likely Magnus will take notice of her gaze, but Selene does smile in his direction and momentarily lifts her goblet to him in congratulations.

Magnus continues, "With any luck, we will both find it to be a profitable association." And with that, the newly-named Aegian retires from the central focus of the crowd, his path taking him once more towards Helena's side.

Again, a white eyebrow arches. Drusus is either surprised or amused -- hard to tell -- as Agrippina comes marching up to the man beside him. He tilts his head and regards her and then it becomes clear that it is amusement dancing in those oft-dead eyes of his. He says, deadpanned, "A moment, if you please, Domina. I fear that Dominus Favian is not finished with his announcements."

Other Houses of a lesser import than the Emperor's have mentioned their representatives; this parade of Houses and Aegians continues unabated, marched along with precision from the former field commander, and the first segment of proclamations is tidied up by affirmations of existing Aegians.

Read in succession come the names, "Vertinius Acesius is reaffirmed for House Acesius, Kalypso Deukalia Tritonides reaffirmed for House Tritonis, Cassius Silvarius Augustin reaffirmed for House Augustus." A pause follows; he comes to the end of a section or, miracle of miracles, must take a breath.

Cassius is caught mid-way in wiping up squished grape-juice as Agrippina addresses him, and some might notice that he starts, fleetingly, at her voice. While his face is still turned away, he grimaces, heaves a put-upon sigh, then turns... and achieves a pleasantly neutral expression. "Domina," he welcomes her in an undertone, so as not to interfere with the announcements. "I see you're quite recovered from that little run-in with a gryphon. How fortunate for us all."

With an apologetic smile to Magnus, Helena motions with her hand to the people drawing closer to congratulate her cousin. "None could be named better, Aegian," she compliments before she again tries to walk away, accidentally in the direction of the Emperor and his entourage.

Does House Tritonis feed Pandora? The woman is popping food like it's going out of style; but apparently out of the need to only have something to occupy her idle hands and mouth. Glittering white teeth pierce the next fruit victim laxly as she observes the announcer and his statements, pale eyes flicking over the crowd to discern said new Aegian of controversy before the other names are read off.

Arrival of the Empress -- look, she isn't with Drusus! -- is something that Cressida finds most particularly curious, and Aurora is bathed by the sky blue of Cressida's irises for at least the space it takes Quillion to read off a dozen names. Scrutiny is in the entirety of that stare, as well; when one is across the room from the Emperor and Empress, one may feel free to stare. Who'd notice?

Eyeing the collection of politicians, spouses, mistresses, lovers, servants, and flat-out ne'er-do-wells, Quillion launches into another spate of reaffirmations. At its conclusion, a second newly-elected member is then revealed: "Claudius Malleus Areides is elected Aegian for House Ares."

Crisply offered, crisply stated. This name, in fact each name, is offered with gravity and grandeur, tinged with the impatience of a military man who has a certain amount of things to do in a certain allotted space of time. The verbal equivalent, as it were, of tapping one's foot.

Agrippina peers down her patrician nose at Drusus and with slightly more civility than Cassius receives, she says to the Emperor, "My apologies, but I was not interested in speaking with you, your Imperial Majesty. So, I won't need that moment." There is a faint sniff at Cassius' greeting. "That is one gryphon that is no longer with us." With that, she picks up a bunch of grapes for herself.

Claudius does indeed notice the small gaggle of people that seems to be converging around Drusus. Always the way with the Emperor, he muses: those who are not seeking to manipulate the man will be seeking to ingratiate themselves with him.

Claudius' eyes continue their sweep of the room, with his closest attention reserved for Quillion's words. With the mention of his own name, he merely bows his head in acceptance, and says firmly, "For the Empyre." It could well be a summation of the man's life.

Not about to disrupt the gathering, Magnus lays no hand on Helena. But his shift of weight and wing does effectively -- not bar -- but redirect her path for a moment. He smiles in a kindly manner on her and offers his arm. "Perhaps you would join me for a short while, Helena?"

At the mention of Ares' new representative, Cassius allows his gaze to wander, seeking out the Legate among the crowd. Claudius' brief 'speech' helps him locate the man, and the Augustin Aegian watches for a moment. There is no trace of displeasure or animosity in his gaze, as there had been with Magnus.

But he's too surrounded right now to congratulate the new Aegian, so Cassius offers only a brief nod -- whether it's noticed or not -- before returning his attention to his companions. A sliver of a smile crosses his lips at Agrippina's flat comment regarding her erstwhile nemesis, the gryphon. "And probably happier for it," is his low mutter.

Phineas' thin lips curve into yet another smile; a cold mirth filling his eyes as he stands and listens to the slew of names read off by the man taking center stage. There's something rather interesting and scandalous whispered about most of them, is there not? Especially those supposedly of high blood. It is then he finally takes notice of the Dea Maxima; Aurora herself. He rests his case.

May Magnus, his children, his grandchildren, and everyone who comes after that be blasted out of the skies by a giant hailstorm! But Helena knows well she cannot say such things now, not here, and she has to smile politely, though a little wryly as she is forced into taking Magnus' arm. This does not stop her from looking over her shoulder towards Drusus' party, though. "I would be honoured," she answers her cousin, tight-lipped.

Obscurity has its blessings, so believes the blue-wrapped Januarius woman called Cressida, for she is content to nibble the morsels of cuisine and drain the casks provided by the Aegis' coffers while Quillion Favian rambles on. Crowd-watching is as much a sport to one of noble Empyreal breeding as is wyvern-tipping to the Varati (so it is rumored); Cressida enjoys studying the mingling crowds from her space near the food tables, making notes for later use. One never knows when the glare on Helena's face may come in handy, for example, or that squished grape may be best mentioned to Cassius....

"Madam." Drusus voice is neutral, like Cassius', only with far less soul. The amusement has gone out of him. It is quiet, so as not to interrupt, but there is a carrying quality of it that knifes it directly into the woman's ears. He was, after all, once a sergeant, and he knows how to use his voice.

"You presume upon my humor. The Deus is in conversation with me at the moment, however on hold it may be. Therefore, I pray you to pay me heed when I speak to you. I would expect a woman of your experience to have more courtly manner."

An interminable drone of minutes -- hours, perhaps -- would be requisite for the election results' full disclosure, but before so torturous an occasion can transpire, Quillion announces, "There shall be a formal posting of the entirety of the Aegis behind me for the duration of this event, Domini and Dominae; what shall be presented here are those appointments presently in attendance."

In other words, he shall spare the dull revelation of dozens of appointments and limit the announcements to those Aegians, new and old, at the reception.

"In conclusion," for mercifully, the grating basso boom of Quillion will soon end, "I must sadly announce the death of Benedictus Januarius, who was Adjutor to Marcus Phineas Januarius until his death last winter, and has been acting as Aegian until these elections. A replacement Aegian shall be elected when next the Aegis convenes."

The parchment roll is tidily, briskly gathered again, and with what passes for a congenial smile on Quillion's face, he invites, "We congratulate those retaining their place as Aegians and those newly elected. Celebrate now, with us, for tomorrow we have much work to do. MUCH work. Vale."

Trust this man, someone may grumble, to put a damper on a celebration.

Agrippina pops a grape into her mouth with obvious gestures, as if showing Cassius how adults can eat fruit without making the mess of a five-year-old. Papery skin, almost translucent and crossed with many fine lines, shows that Agrippina is of advanced years, yet it may be questioned as to whether she has come to watch the induction of new Aegis or to ride herd on the Augustin Deus.

At Drusus' reply, she makes a sweeping gesture at Cassius. "By all means, your Imperial Majesty, continue your conversation with him, however laggard that conversation may be. I am sure he could use the practice."

For a long, silent moment, Selene's wandering gaze falls on her Emperor cousin, and were he more available, she might approach him, inquire on his condition and other such mild pleasantries that would be expected at such an event. Instead, she continues to sip her ambrosia, murmur comments to her husband, and study the crowd.

Most gain a smile or a nod, but one image that appears draws a line across the Dea's forehead and pulls her lips to a frown. She had not noticed the Empress' arrival until this moment, though she had heard of her return. Quickly, she gestures to Aurora, pointing her out to Pantoleon and murmuring something dark to him, if the narrowing of her eyes and the thinning of her lips is any indication.

Magnus steers Helena gently away from the table, the food, and the knot around the Emperor... and Cassius. His smile remains fixed and pleasant, giving all appearances of affording Qillion most of his attention as he guides his current companion gently towards where Selene stands. His hand on hers, ostensibly there in a fatherly gesture, also permits no easy 'escape.' At the conclusion of Quillion's announcements, Magnus greets Selene warmly, "Ave, Dea."

"Very well," Drusus replies to the old woman. "You are dismissed." Yes, as if said to a servant or slave. He adds a clarification: "Though you may remain at this event, and naturally the Deus will be free to converse with you when I am finished with him."

She'll mingle among the visitors to Haven later in the evening, but right now, Aurora glides toward her husband and his present company. She shares House and house with him, but respects must and should be paid.

She's able to catch only the tail end of his sharp exchange with the elderly Agrippina, and Aurora's own grey gaze falls curiously, almost calculatingly upon Cassius, her lips arcing slightly in amusement for some reason.

Oh no, lady wife. Drusus' words are not sharp, and neither are Agrippina's; hers are breezy whereas his are firm and cool.

Firm and cool, yet intended to knife into the woman's ears...

Agrippina bends her head to Drusus. "You are too gracious, your Imperial Majesty. To put your conversation with Cassius even further on hold so as to bestow your royal voice upon me. I'm sure he's touched."

With a polite smile, and laughter behind his eyes, Pantoleon tilts, and dips his head to the approaching Magnus, a few strands of the Acesian's long, unbound hair swinging before his eyes as he does so. "Ave, to you as well, most honorable Dominus," Pantoleon intones, seemingly amused by the Jovian's failure to greet him along with Selene.

With the announcements over, Claudius Areides walks over to one of the tables, and acquires a goblet of drink, and a small plate of various foods for himself. He returns to his original position, eating his tidbits with the restrained hunger of a man who has flown many miles, and did not have time to eat before being required to come here. So Claudius eats now, slowly and politely, puncuating his meal with a sip of water from his goblet now and again.

Cassius narrows his pale blue gaze at Agrippina, and luckily he's not holding any more grapes, or he might squish another one. But he manages to keep his tone congenial, though barely. "Please excuse my mother-in-law, Deus Maximus," he asks the Emperor. "I am afraid such events tax her considerably."

With his chin, he nods toward some of the low benches and settees placed against the wall, so as to clear the middle of the floor. "Perhaps you might sit for a while, domina," Cassius suggests to Agrippina. "Until you feel more ready to wade into these turbulent political waters."

Drusus claps his hands behind his back, eyes still upon Cassius' apparent nemesis. He remains silent, patiently waiting for her to leave.

Selene turns stormy eyes from the Empress to the voice among the crowd, one that brings a warmth to her features and chases the clouds from her sapphire gaze. "Ave, cousin, and congratulations to you. I am certain you shall serve Jove and the Empyre well." Magnus receives a bounty of her good nature, but there is some for her younger cousin, as well. "Helena, gods, it's been so long. Would you forgive your cousin for being lax in her visits?"

Cressida lets her gaze drift again over Magnus -- him, she knows, so says the glimmer of recognition in her eyes -- before she accepts a refilled cup of wine and steers toward Drusus and Cassius. Not to interfere, oh, no. Nor to interrupt or foist her attentions on the Deus Maximus. She intends to eavesdrop.

Though smiling still, Helena's hand underneath Magnus' protective custody is rigid as a wooden plank. She will free it once guided in front of Selene, in order to give her cousin a gentle, yet short-lived hug. She will occupy it by accepting a goblet of ambrosia and she will nod to Pantoleon.

"Cousin, how are you? Oh, but certainly I forgive you, if you promise to come around soon? It seems I have a lifetime of stories to tell you." There is an edge to Helena's voice and a darkness in her eyes that Selene might recognize from times gone by.

Like a pack of hungry wolves, a trio of Schola led by Versus Augustin enter the room. Unceremoniously, and without any regard for those not affiliated with the Emperor and the Aegis, the soldiers cut through the crowd with leonine grace... their red chlamydes pronouncing them guards of the Maximus himself.

Swift and visibly used more to brutal action than political debate, they take their places at the side of the hall, not interrupting the already-positioned Schola around the Emperor.

Niherlas passes through the doors from the atrium and stands near the foot of the Hall.

Agrippina snaps at Cassius, "I am not in the grave, yet. However much you wish it." However, she does move toward the indicated benches, the harridan obviously not nearly as hearty and as hale as she attempts to portray herself.

Magnus lifts his chin and gives Pantoleon his full attention and a slight bow of his head. "Ave, Deus. Pardon me for not seeing you beyond the luminous beauty of your wife. You are quite the lucky man." His hand, now slipped free of Helena's caging, falls lightly and 'affectionatly' across the younger woman's shoulders. He turns to look upon Helena with a fatherly smile, "Although I am much content to bear the companionship of family, this evening."

Selene laughs gaily at Helena's comment and take a moment to lean over and offer a slight embrace, one so common among the Empyreal nobility. With her cheek to her cousin's, her lips move in a faint whisper, but whatever is shared is for Helena's ears only.

Now. Where were we? Drusus says, "You've heard the news from Avalon, have you not?" His voice is quiet, as usual, and soft -- those nearby can probably make out what he is saying, however. "I should like to speak to you and the rest of council as soon as possible about it."

For lack of anything better to do, Phineas strolls to one of the tables and selects a morsel of cheese for himself. So many interesting sights. The vivid scarlet of the Scholas' chlamydes catches the Aegian's eyes, and he follows their progress until the Emperor and his gaggle are noted.

Pantoleon smiles magnanimously at Magnus' comment. "Ah, such happy knowledge is mine, many times over. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say. And thus, if out of mind, let me pass out of sight." He smiles and dips his head. "I shall be certain to approach opposite my wife when I return, Dominus, to ease your sighting of me."

A small jest, before he turns to Selene. "My dear, I must share words elsewhere for a brief moment. May I entrust the entertainment of your good Jovian cousins to you in my absence?" Pantoleon inquires lightly.

Cassius watches Agrippina remove herself to the bench and heaves a tiny sigh of relief before turning his attention to Drusus. "I have, Deus," he answers, nodding. "In fact, I was just working on a response to the news we received from Claudius Areides earlier this evening. I would be happy to discuss my thoughts with you." He shoots a glance out over the crowd, looking for the aforementioned Aegian of Ares. "And with the Legate, if he is willing."

Niherlas enters quietly, obviously late. and thankfully unannounced. It only takes moments to hear the names on the air, however. Claudius? How splendid. It's news enough to place a smile on the Estrel's face as he makes his way into the Atrium.

Claudius finishes his light meal and places both dish and goblet on the tray of a passing server. His eyes fall upon the group around the Emperor just as Cassius looks for him. There's a nod in return to the Augustin Deus.

Selene takes another sip from her goblet and nods to her husband before he slips off into the crowd. Ever at work, the poor man.

Equipped mainly with gladii, due to the close confines of the hall, the Schola guards remain separated from any debate at hand. Yet their decorative Attic helmets, the banded armors and the scarlet capes are distinctly visible... a reminder that the Emperor is in the room, and that little force will be spared should he or any current Aegians be in any form of danger.

Calmly, Versus scans the gathering with his icy stare, paying no heed to anyone in particular, seemingly looking at statues.

The tapping sound that comes from somewhere below is caused by Helena's foot ticking on the marble the moment Magnus lays a hand across her shoulders. She smiles to Pantoleon, but just so much kindness comes forth as he announces his departure to other conversations. "Ah, and I do need a moment alone with Selene, Magnus -- I am certain you will excuse us?"

And already, Helena begins to lead Selene away, back towards the table. "I do fancy a few grapes however," she tells her, "Will you join me in the fancy?"

Magnus does not let Helena go so easily. His arm draws her back into a fatherly embrace -- all proper -- as his head dips so he might drop words quiet enough to fall only on her ears. His smile remains fixed, but his eyes are as cold and as hard as the edge of a steel blade.

Then he straightens and favors Selene and Helena both with a tight smile, stepping back to bow to them both. "Dine well, ladies."

Drusus nods. "Yes, I think so. I am sure the Praetorian Guard would be more comfortable with knowing the ultimate end to their increased presence there. I--" but then there's a breath of air at his side, a new arrival: a slave in Imperial livery, a young Empyrean woman, curtseys gracefully to Drusus and Cassius.

She says in a polite and kind soprano voice: "My pardons, Dei, for interrupting. Deus Maximus, there is a message for you, one you've been expecting."

Drusus regards the slave for a moment and then nods. "Understood, Irina. I shall be out shortly. Thank you."

She curtseys again and slips through the edges of the crowd, unobtrusive.

Drusus says, to Cassius, "It is a message from the Decemvir, Deus. I must beg your pardon. May I impose upon you to arrange a counsel meeting with the new Aegians?"

Pushing himself away from his position by one of the tables, idle steps take Phineas closer to the knot of people surrounding the Emperor. Oh, he has no intention of making an attempt to engage the Deus Maximus himself in conversation, nor the ever-popular Deus of House Augustus. But the man knows well that events happen near these people, and if he is to have any hope of catching rumors before they are diluted, it is best to stand near the source.

Domina Agrippina is noted with a slightly wary tilt of his head; Phineas remembers that one most certainly from several convenings of the Aegis.

The announcements are over. She's made somewhat of an appearance. Pandora's eyes flick over the gathering once more before judiciously eying the food in hand. It would probably be uncouth to fashion a doggy bag out of her stola, huh? She disposes properly of her leftovers with the aid of a passing servant. Feet that did seem rooted to that spot take up motion, heading for the exit.

"Of course, Deus," Cassius tells Drusus, inclining his head to the younger man. "I will arrange it as soon as possible. I trust the news from the Decemvir is nothing unfortunate."

Selene inclines her head toward the newly-appointed Jovian Aegian and then loops her arm though Helena's, the banquet table their destination. "I would be delighted to join you, cousin," Selene says once on their way, shuffling through the crowds to find a bowl filled with the plump fruit.

"What do you need from me, Helena?" the Dea asks, sampling a few of the grapes from the table.

Calmly, Versus moves from his statuseque poise, and advances towards the Emperor as well. His purpose, however, seems to be the amount of people surrounding him. Heavy gaze falls on Phineas, as the soldier nears the group.

Agrippina has only barely seated herself on a bench when she notices Phineas' wary glance. "Are you going to speak or stand there like a fly waiting for a drop of honey?" she queries in typical brusque fashion. "Cassius is busy pretending that he understands politics. You won't be speaking with him any time soon, Dominus."

Pandora steps through the doors and re-enters the inner courtyard of the Palladium.

"Selene, I will not be but a moment." Helena lets go of her cousin's arm and returns to the newly-appointed Aegian, letting Selene wait for a while as she tries to get some color back to her cheeks, breathing deep in order to just whisper the words into Magnus' ear instead of screaming him instantly deaf. She has to stand on tiptoe to manage it, but she tries to avoid all contact with her cousin. And then she whispers, quite angrily.

Claudius notes the Estrel Tritonides' arrival, and a hint of a smile flickers across his face as he offers Niherlas a polite nod of greeting. Another glass of water is taken from a passing server, and Claudius sips. He's noted the activity around Drusus, but hasn't seemed to react to it.

Versus studies the crowd, Cressida studies Versus. A finger traces the rim of her wine goblet, leaving a crimson stain on the formerly pink tip just below the nail, but she pays it no mind. Best to ensure that this proud, polished Praetor is precisely placed into her dura mater. But oh... that snappish commentary from Agrippina wins a droll glance from Cressida, who lofts one brow and tries gallantly not to smirk.

Versus' look towards Cressida is as passing as it is impersonal... cold sapphire eyes scanning her only for any potential threat to those worthy of protection. Or so it seems. The trace of hesitation that inhabits the gaze of the Praetor is all but invisible. As is the spark in his eyes.

Drusus shakes his head. "A meeting, nothing more. Vale, Deus. Good evening to you." He dips his head politely and turns to leave, making his way through the crowd with aves and vales and all of those polite murmurings.

"Aurora," he says by way of both hail and farewell to his wife; at the door, Drusus pauses, allowing the Schola to sort themselves out and follow him.

Aurora touches the Emperor's arm lightly, briefly, and murmurs to him only, "Deus"--a word of both greeting and preparation for departure. She's heard nearly enough within this cluster around him, and some of the out-of-town guests are looking vaguely like disoriented sheep. Another speculative glance at Cassius Augustin, a nod of greeting... as if they've unfinished business between them that will out someday.

Oh gods, he's been noticed. And it is far too late to run. Phineas' brows lift at the ill-tempered Agrippina, and he does not even attempt to smile in hopes of winning her over with long-faded charm. Instead, he takes a painfully slow glance over his shoulder towards Cassius, then turns to study the aged woman once more. "Ave to you as well, Domina," he states just as calm as if she had told him that Haven was a cesspit. "You seem... as vibrant as ever."

Giving nothing more than a diminutive gesture with his hand, Versus is suddenly surrounded with a cohors of Schola... half of which bear spears in their left hands, set at parade rest. Falling into an instant formation, the unit cuts the crowd mercilessly and surrounds the Emperor, leading him out of the Hall of the Sky.

Magnus looks down upon Helena and replies, "I care not for what you meant to do, Helena. Only for what it looked like. Learn to watch yourself, or you will have to be watched." The words are delivered flatly -- so much so as to carry the implicit threat without needing to be yelled. He holds her eyes for a moment longer and adds. "I forget nothing."

The newly-named Aegian turns his back on the girl and heads back off into the crowds as if nothing had happened, dismissing the situation, entirely, and losing himself in the milling masses.

Magnus steps through the doors and re-enters the inner courtyard of the Palladium.

Once Drusus has departed, Cassius finds himself momentarily alone -- at least until he notices Aurora standing nearby, making a brief farewell to her husband. His gaze makes a quick circuit of the room, settling on Helena and the group of Acesians and Jovians clustered around her, and then darting over toward Agrippina. Lest the iron-haired woman notice that he's suddenly unoccupied, the Augustin Deus hastily turns back to Aurora and inclines his head to her in a polite nod. "Ave, Dea Maxima. I hope your, ah, journey was... pleasant."

A slender Praetor wearing the insignia of a Medeor slips into the Hall of the Sky, looking around carefully. Upon spotting Claudius near the door, the Praetor -- who some might recognize as Davus Areides -- steps to Claudius and whispers something in his ear.

The Legate's already stern expression hardens into diamond, and he nods to Davus, dismissing the man. Then, Claudius makes his way over to Niherlas, doing all he can to keep a scowl off his face.

As he passes Niherlas, Drusus says, simply, "Convene your council. I shall be there shortly." And, with that, he is stepped through the door.

Not that her presence has been noticed, but Cressida herself, bolstered by wine and some delicious spinach and cheese dealiedos, is going to steal away without a further word, either.

Niherlas nods to the Emperor as the Deus Maximus passes him, "So mote it be." There's a knowing expression on his face, neither pleased nor displeased.

Drusus, Versus, and his Schola step out into the inner courtyard of the Palladium. Cressida soon follows.

Agrippina replies to Phineas, "I've come into this heathen city filled with uppity mongrels who think they have the wit and intelligence to be something other than slaves. Of course, I look like warmed-over death. Haven is a morass of idiots. I am counting the moments until I can return to Civitas Dei. I hope you aren't so stupid as to have made this pit your home, Dominus."

White-and-gold wings bristle with anger as Magnus speaks the words out loud, without even giving her the opportunity to properly retort. Over the time of a few minutes, the shivering lessens, and when she turns around to face the Hall again, smoothing her dress with both her hands, there is nothing left of her anger but the sheer darkness in her eyes. Nodding once, more to herself then anyone else, Helena makes her way back to Selene, less elegant than before, but at least not stamping.

"What was that all about?" Selene's voice speaks to Helena clearly after polishing off another of the dark fruits and than deftly licking the juice from her fingertips. Her gaze flicks momentarily to Helena, but the retreating Magnus gains the lion's share of her attention, as if trying to read the reason for the altercation simply from his stance and gait.

She had been about to step away to invite a pair of more pastoral, wide-eyed politicians' wives to the refreshments, but the faint upward curve of her lips returns as Aurora hears Cassius' sudden greeting. She pauses and turns, her old Clan colors swirling silkily about her ankles. "Ave, Deus Augustin. I would not say that the journey was particularly pleasant, at least in recent months, but I can only hope that the work we accomplished will make life more pleasant for others." More quietly now, and wryly, her silvery gaze flickering over to the Deus' aged relative: "Am I the lesser of two evils, then?"

The 'Fortunate' Aegian would laugh if he were more inclined to such spurts of audible mirth. But even so, Phineas' eyes hold a spark of a sudden light as he stretches out a hand, halting a slave's path with the crook of a finger. A goblet of wine is retrieved from a tray, then offered first to Agrippina. "By the gods, no, Domina. Familial business made it necessary for me to come to Haven, but I am also anxious to return to Civitas Dei."

He pauses, then comments, "There is a stench in this city, have you not noticed? I have oft wondered why this place seems to be the home of some of our more prominent denizens of the Empyre."

Niherlas takes a deep breath, then looks over at the approaching Legate... Aegian. Aegian Ares. So it begins. The Tritonis Estrel commanders a glass, most any glass, from a passing tray. One might as well start it with a drink.

Pantoleon returns silently, so that his first clue of return is his tenor raised to answer Selene's query, "I'm afraid I suspect the cause, my dear... though only rooted in heresay and rumor, the note of foolishness rings true." The Acesian's wings are forcibly kept from gorwing tense as displeasure and sadness mingle on his handsome face.

Claudius slowly stops his walk, nostrils flaring. He takes a sip of his water, then a longer drink, finishing the glass. He sets it a table, where it's quickly cleared. "Ave, Dominus Tritonides," he greets Niherlas. "I see many things change in my absence."

"The man is already coming back on his word..." Helena mutters softly. Only those near could hear her and she seems to care little about it. "He's not been appointed Aegian for a turn of the sun yet and already he thinks he owns the House." Her fingers pluck at the grapes, throwing one after the other into her mouth, standing so close now to the one she wanted to speak to, but paying no attention to him now.

Niherlas inclines his head to Claudius. "They do. Titles may change, positions may change. People are still people, though, I'd like to think. Muddling through as best they can." He nods again. "I congratulate you on your elevation, Dominus Ariedes, Aegian of the Empyre."

Agrippina takes the goblet of wine from Phineas. "I try to not to breathe too much while I am in Haven, just in case stupidity is catching. I'm sure that those with brains the size of olives gravitate toward each other. It is the only way to explain the ultimately foolish way the nation has chosen to handle this Arelate debacle. We're showing all the spine of a whipped dog. The halfbreed throws us a bone and now we slaver at the opportunity. He withholds the bone and we were too frightened to fight him for it."

Claudius shrugs off the talk of 'elevation.' "It is a responsiblity to the Empyre," he says, "and that is nothing new for me. I was not speaking of titles or positions, however."

A wry smile flickers across Cassius's lips at the Empress' keen assessment behind his hasty greeting, and he studies her anew, a speculative look in his pale blue eyes. "I imagine you wouldn't try to box my ears if I made any comment with which you disagreed, Dea," he replies. "I am pleased to hear about your... efforts. Are you remaining here in Haven for a while longer, then, or is this only a brief visit?"

He glances toward Agrippina, overhearing some of her comments even amid the surrounding chatter of the crowd, and his eyebrows go up, though Cassius looks neither pleased or displeased. Just faintly bemused.

Selene glances first to her husband, stated at his approach, for she obviously did not hear him. Her attention was too focused on the pair of squabbling Jovians. "What do you mean?" The question, posed as she looks from Pantoleon to Helena, is vague as to who it was meant for. Perhaps that was the intention.

The expression on Niherlas' face is anticipatory, even resigned. "There is much that has changed, yes. So much that, if I were asked to catalogue it, I truly don't know where I would start." Hazel eyes peer at Claudius, and Niherlas takes a careful sip of what turns out to be a light wine. "What is it that you consider now, Dominus?"

Chewing with a vengeance, Helena is determined to beat Pantoleon in answer, but whether she succeeds or not, she snorts with her mouth still full. "He was already putting me on a leash, telling me what I should do and not do, Sweet Jove, he thought me indecent when I wanted to ask Cassius how he was! Bloody first time I got to see him since he got stabbed..." And she busies herself with killing more grapes.

Pantoleon draws a long breath, releasing it in a terse sigh... one that stirs the locks which trail near his face. "I have heard that the Estrella intend to strip the Praetorian Guard of the right to enforce law within Haven. The short-sighted fools not only to treat us as an inferior power, but to replenish their ranks with such wretches as might be found among the Varati clans... this bodes most ill. Dountless, your Imperial cousin has flown to show them the error of their ways. Perhaps I am mistaken and no such idiocy has claimed Delphi, but..."

Before he allows the slave to continue on his way, Phineas takes a second goblet; this one meant for himself. "It is my understanding," he states quietly, yet loudly enough to be heard by the aged woman, "that Khalid Atar has returned from wherever it is that he went, and he has now decreed that any of his Clans may attack Arelate at will. Have I been informed correctly, Domina?" He takes a long drink of his wine, gaze flitting away from the ill-tempered woman to several of those nearby.

"Politics," Claudius replies, "and the whims of fate that guide this odd city of Haven." He gauges the Estrel before him carefully. "Perhaps I have been away overlong," he says, "and should not comment on what I have just heard." There's an arch of his head towards Pantoleon, catching the man's words without a flicker of surprise on his face before turning back to Niherlas. "But in light of the recent turmoil, and the anticipated turmoil yet to come, is it wise to bring politics onto the very streets of Haven?"

Aurora chuckles low, briefly, and accepts a kylix of ambrosia from a passing servant. She does not drink from it yet, but rather responds in a murmur to Cassius, "As you reminded me once, you have studied the histories, practiced politics, and observed the nature of man for over fifty years. I can hardly turn you over my knee, can I? I suppose that is well, because I am planning to stay in Haven for the time being. I would be... interested in revisiting our long-ago discussion someday."

Agrippina gives Phineas a hard look. "You are correctly informed. Back home, everyone is calling for us to take back Arelate after the Varati are done beating up the mongrels. The halfbreed has broken the treaty that he rammed down our throats. Anyone with half a wit could see this coming. Of course, the halfbreed is now allowing his Clans to attack Avalon. His poor ego has been hurt, and just like a little boy, he has to strike back."

Niherlas shakes his head, "No, it isn't. After what we've recently gone through, I'd sincerely hoped not to. I only wonder if someone asked the same question of the Imperator?" He takes a brief sip from his glass, "Dominus, Haven must remain safe. It must be a place where all races are as equal as possible -- where they can meet for the diplomacy needed to avert what you've just returned from the least of. It is the duty that I have been charged with, my own responsibility to the Empyre."

At the mention of his long-ago meeting with the Empress -- before she even was the Empress, some of Cassius' congeniality fades. He does not look angry, but the reminder of that time is not a particularly pleasant one. "As... would I," he answers, with the briefest hesitation. "Perhaps your experiences since then have given you a new perspective... just as mine have."

The Acesian Dea can only chuckly light-heartedly at the indignant posture of her younger Jovian cousin, who again struggles against the restraints of her household, or more directly, the men in her household.

It is Pantoleon's response that slices heavily through the joy in her laugh and cuts it off sharply. "A foul jest my Deus," Selene responds, focusing on the pale visage of her husband. "Such a declaration certainly cannot be true?"

Claudius shakes his head to Niherlas. "You cannot serve two masters," he says. "No one can. You cannot claim to serve both Haven and the Empyre at once. Their interests may occasionally be the same, but that does not change the basic fact. I am sworn to the Empyre, Estrel." The look in Claudius' eyes leaves no doubt as to what he believes Niherlas to be sworn to. "This action will not increase Haven's safety, Dominus, but its tension. I do not envy your position in the coming days."

How interesting. Phineas' gaze returns to Agrippina's and meets it without a flinch. There is neither pleasure nor displeasure at the confirmation of the rumors he had heard, but another long and savoring sip of his wine is taken. "The treaty is broken," he echoes in a contemplative tone of voice, "by the one who drew it up. I would not consider these the actions of a little boy, but rather a madman." Eventually, his gaze slides back over towards Aurora, narrowing faintly upon the woman who continues to wear the colors of Clan Khalida.

The few grapes that didn't get squished between her teeth are looked upon, then thrown back into the bowl. "Selene, forgive me, but Magnus has quite ruined the evening for me. Come look for me soon? I think I am going to kick something in my chambers..." Indeed, all the brilliant smiles and sparkling of eyes of before have vanished, leaving Helena looking like a grey doll all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Agrippina takes a sip of her wine. "Little boys who have had their toys broken act in exactly the same fashion. In little boys, we call it throwing a temper tantrum. When a supposed adult performs the same action, we call it mad. It is the same thing, no matter what word you use," she remarks to Phineas. "Little boys do not have logic. Neither do immature petty tyrants."

Selene gives her cousin another brief embrace as well as a brush of a kiss on her cheek. "Of course, Helena, I'll make it a point to visit you soon. I'll not keep you any longer."

"I was nominated by the Council, dominus. But confirmed by the Aegis and Emperor." Niherlas takes a long breath, "And I have not envied my own position since shortly after I attained it. What would you do, Legate, if a soldier, or a group of them, failed to obey orders? You would remove them from duty, yes?"

Pantoleon dips his head to the departing Helena. "My apologies, domina, if my words have in any way contributed to your displeasure. May fairer skies find you on the morrow."

Turning next to Selene, the alabaster-winged Acesian answers simply, "There is no jest so foul as a bitter truth, my dear. Had I any modicum of faith remaining that Delphi desired justice, I should never have voiced such horrid news... but no, I fear their folly does indeed reach so deep as to offer so grievous an insult."

Helena gives a brief smile that never reaches her eyes to Selene, to Pantoleon, shaking her head to him, even placing a hand briefly on his arm. No, he was not the cause. Then she departs with little ceremony.

Helena steps through the doors and into the inner courtyard of the Palladium.

Aurora senses Cassius' hesitation, similar to her own slightly before. "Perhaps," she agrees, then continues frankly: "An honest discussion between two people who have seen both worlds -- from the inside -- could be enlightening." Grey eyes drift across Selene, Agrippina... those who hate more blindly. She sets the kylix aside without drinking from it, preparing to take her leave from the Deus.

Claudius shakes his head. "This is not about orders, Estrel." He emphasizes the last word. "This is about cold political facts and reality. The situation where I have just come from, is very, very tense." He understates magnificently. "This action takes all that tension and drops it straight into the streets of your beloved Haven, which you have sworn to keep safe."

There's a frown as Claudius shakes his head. "This does not bode well, Estrel. Any forces patrolling the Empyrean sector but those, and this would have been a statement you could have made. But as things stand ... well. At least where I'll be going, the warfare will be open, and honest."

"Ahhh, I have no children of my own," comments Phineas in explanation for his apparent ignorance. And grateful he is, too, of that fact. Stinking, grubby-pawed children are little better than mongrels. The only good thing about them is that they grow up and leave the House at some point.

The man again falls into a contemplative silence, indulging in another drink of wine, before he says, "I wonder, domina, if that blasted and charred land will be worth the Empyrean lives that are being sent there to defend it. For those mongrels."

"Vale, Dea Maxima," Cassius tells the Empress as he notices she seems eager to depart. Perhaps the talk revolving around Khalid Atar and the fate of Arelate is trying her patience. As for him, his expression reveals little about what he thinks of the entire matter. Though the fact that he spoke civilly with a woman who once hailed from Clan Khalida might incite a few rumors about his own loyalties and political leanings.

"Fair skies," he murmurs in farewell, before starting to edge oh-so-unobtrusively toward the door in the hopes of evading Agrippina's notice.

So much for an enjoyable evening among the best of Empyrean society, at least, of those here in Haven. The faint line that had appeared earlier buries itself into the fair skin of Selene's brow. She swallows the last of her ambrosia and hands the empty goblet off to a passing servant. "I think the news has soured my mood, my Deus," she declares to Pantoleon. "Perhaps we should leave, I suddenly do not feel up for a celebration."

Agrippina snorts. "That is another idiocy, defending land for the mongrels. It makes me glad that I won't live too many more years. Watching the nation collapse under the weight of our own stupidity would make me vomit."

She points her glass at Cassius, for Phineas. "Look, Deus Augustin has freed himself from pandering to Khalid's ex-cyprian, if you still wanted to catch him, Dominus. I can see he's trying to slither out like the little snake he is."

Pantoleon inclines his regal head ot Selene, and offers her his arm. "In truth, my Dea, Such sickening bigotry on Delphi's part would try the stomach of any well-intentioned Empyrean. I would not dream of holding you here longer." Without further ado, or words, the Acesian pair move with strained politeness, but unstrained dignity out of the Hall.

"What choice do we have, Dominus? Imperator Theron's actions have forced us to take a large potion of the peace-keeping forces off the street. Would you have us leave the streets empty?" Niherlas' expression is quite serious, his voice rusing slightly in tone, "The Hounds have been ravaged -- by Varati violence, by the attack of the Northerners -- and they were stretched thin to start with. Which is the only reason I can think that the Imperator has done what he has -- because he thinks Delphi powerless."

The Estrel looks at the glass in his hand, and hands it off with a frown. "If the Empyre is thought to be able to exert itself at will within Haven, to ignore the laws tha are set down, then the other races will do similarly. And we will have the state of danger about which you are so concerned."

Again, he looks over his shoulder, pale gaze unerringly finding the Augustin Deus. Phineas doesn't know whether to smile or frown. He settles for neither, keeping his expression stoic and almost serene in the face of Agrippina's hateful onslaught. "Ah, Domina, I believe I shall leave Deus Augustin alone and unmolested by my presence," he states quietly, once more refocusing his gaze upon the elderly woman's features. "He has enough problems, I believe."

Selene and Pantoleon step through the doors into the inner courtyard of the Palladium.

"Warm winds," the Empress sends back to Cassius, pleasantly enough. "For you and us all. And soon, I pray." And indeed, she does glide off. She does not dignify the sharp-tongued, same-old same-old locals with an argument, but instead nods graciously as she passes by Agrippina and Phineas. "Ave, and ave," she murmurs. "A pleasure to see you both." And she drifts off, leaving only the delicate scent of heather before them.

Niherlas frowns. "Speak to Imperator Theron of acting to preserve safety, Dominus Ariedes. Ask him why he harbors a suspected assassin, and why he would order Praetorians to threaten Hounds with violence on the soil of Haven. Then speak to me of the foolish actions of Delphi."

Claudius shrugs to Niherlas. "I cannot comment on a situation about which I do not know the full details," he says to Niherlas. "I have been detained in my duties to the Empyre as of late. But, if you will pardon me now? I seem to be the highest ranking Praetorian officer on duty, and I have semi-hostile Varati patrolling the Empyrean quarter of town. So, if you'll excuse me? I'd best give the order for the Praetorian Guard to stand down from their regular patrols." A nod of his head. "Estrel. Dominus." In that order.

Cassius heard part of Agrippina's comment. Enough. He smirks at her, bows his head in a mock-deferential manner, and then promptly turns, once the Empress has taken her leave, and makes his way through the remaining crowd for the door. Perhaps he just needs a breath of fresh air.

FIN  

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