Propylaea - Palladium - Haven:
      Statuary adorns the wide, paved courtyard directly before the main building of the Palladium, whose interior is shrouded in shadow. A set of shallow steps lead up to the Atrium's portico, which is graced by elegant marble columns of an intricate, Corinthian style. The Palladium itself is made up of a cluster of buildings enclosed by a high stone wall--which is no deterrent to the winged beings who live within. And although it is preferred that guests be invited into this Empyreal sanctuary, there are no guards or sentries to bar the curious from exploring.

Damaris emerges from the Palladium and descends a set of shallow steps to join you in the propylaea.

It's awfully odd to see a Sylvan in this part of town, especially a Sylvan as odd looking as this one. Seemingly content with his out-of-placeness, One-Paw wanders idly amongst the statues in the courtyard, peering critically up at the majestically carved figures.

Damaris exits the Palladium, flanked slightly behind by two Empyreal guards whose insignia match the owl on her brooch. A young, blonde Empyrean girl walks by her side, perhaps a lady's maid

"Hmmm, nose much to big," One-Paw can be heard to mumble as he examines the next statue. Hands clasped behind his back and back arched as he cranes his neck, the diminutive graisha's beer belly sticks out in a comical lump.

The Tritonides guards scan the yard, their eyes examining One-Paw as critically as the Sylvan peers at the statuary. Damaris' gaze wanders over the curious-looking figure, and she smiles slightly as she notices which statue he has commented on. "You don't like it?" she inquires in a low contralto voice, lips arced in amusement.

One-Paw jumps in surprise at hearing the voice behind him. "Oh, child, pardon," he chuckles. "I thought I was speaking only to myself." A vague gesture at the statue and he continues, "Compare. Look at all of these other chiefs, and then this one. His nose is much bigger."

Damaris laughs huskily, her grey eyes crinkling at the corners good-naturedly though underneath they are shadowed by sleeplessness. Running her long fingers over the carved marble plaque at the base of the statue, she murmurs, "I'm told that my great-grandfather was proud of his nose; he claimed it mirrored the grandeur of his other parts."

Chloe brings a hand to her mouth, hiding a girlish giggle.

One-Paw scratches at his stubbled chin in contemplation. "An interesting story," intones the Sylvan as if it's a perfectly reasonable idea. "But then why did the sculptors not pay more attention to his manly parts?" He points at the statue's crotch critically. "'Tis the same size as all the others, see?"

Damaris shakes her head, smiling slightly. "I am told," she says in the tone of one who really wouldn't know, "that one's position on the track at the beginning of the foot race does not determine how many lengths one will be ahead at the end."

The guards smirk to each other slightly, as if wondering whether the Sylvan will catch on to such an allegory.

Craft emerges from the Palladium and descends a set of shallow steps to join you in the propylaea.

One-Paw laughs uproariously, bending double to slap his knees in mirth. His cheeks and nose turn a bright red as he manages to chortle out, "Ye are quite the witty one, child!" As his laughter subsides he wipes tears from the corner of his eyes with a rather grubby-looking rabbit pelt pulled from his satchel.

Damaris stands in the middle of the Propylaea, with two Tritonides guards, a maidservant, and One-Paw. The Sylvan and Damaris seem to be conversing over a statue with a particularly large nose.

Craft strides forth from the Palladium, the morning sunlight catching the metallic portions of his armor. Eyes regard the scene around him carefully. Seeing the group ahead, he adjusts his course to rendezvous with it. Closing, he nods to the two guards of House Tritonides politely, then glances about the trio gathered.

The guards take a more wary stance as the Sylvan explodes with laughter; Damaris just quirks a brow, that same reserved amusement arcing her lips and bringing a spark to her eyes. "And you are a flatterer, seeing me as young as a child..."

Chloe lets her blue eyes slide over Craft's form; her rosebud lips curl briefly, flirtatiously as she glances into his face from beneath her lashes, then quickly away.

One-Paw turns his attention from the statue to look at Damaris for the first time. And look he does. He peers at her face, then peers at the rest of her body in a manner that could most definitely be less lewd. "Well, Sky Father strike me down if ye've seen a moon more than two dozen summers, child," he concludes finally with a sly wink.

Craft's grin is bright and almost radiant for these times. One might actually forget that Empyre is vulnerable and exposed. "Lady Tritonis," he says, bowing slightly from the waist. His eyes slide over Chloe, a bit of an equally flirtatious smile aimed to her. Finally his gaze comes to rest on the Sylvan. A second later, they rest back on Damaris, judging her overall impression of the man--he can be removed, should she will it-- "Ahh, greetings, One-Paw," he decides to say, still smiling.

Damaris laughs merrily now, a hearty, smoky laugh. "You'd best find shelter then, good man." She turns, hearing Craft speak. "Ah! Craft Mercurian...a pleasure to see you. We were just critiquing my great-grandfather's representation within this piece of sculpture..." She pats the sandalled foot of the statue fondly.

"Many greetings, Mercurian!" calls One-Paw cheerfully. "How has your perching been going today, then, friend?"

Damaris murmurs, "Perching?"

Craft nods idly, then brings his gaze from The Nose back to Damaris and One-Paw. He replies impassively, though still smiling, "Well enough."

The short Sylvan peers up the face of the Palladium, scratching his chin some more. "'Tis good to hear at least someone enjoys such dizzying heights," he says. "Meself, well, unless I just happen to be sprouting wings, I'll keep me feet right on the ground."

Damaris looks intently to Craft for a moment, and inquires rather cryptically, "Have you heard anything more about what was...reported to me earlier in the week?"

Craft's eyes flicker with a bit of mischief at the Sylvan's words, a chuckle escaping his lips. Upon hearing Damaris' question, however, his demeanor turns to one of pure business. Perhaps even intimidating to those who have never seen a Praetor in such moods. He replies softly, eyes sharp, "Nothing new has revealed itself, my lady. The issue may be quiet, but it is still under observation."

Though One-Paw is definitely still looking up at the Palladium's "dizzying heights," the twitching of his fur-tufted ears could possibly indicate he's paying more attention to his surroundings than it seems.

Damaris nods, murmuring, "Thank you, Craft. I'll keep in touch with you about that matter." She smiles slightly; her manner is subdued, her eyes still shadowed underneath--the destruction of the peace treaty still troubles her, it seems.

Craft bows to Damaris, "As you wish, my lady." He says, then to those gathered, "forgive me, but I must fly. I have business to tend to at the Eyrie." He nods to One-Paw, "A pleasure seeing you again sir," then steps through the gates of the Palladium and returns to the city street.

Damaris smiles, watching the young man depart. "A fine Praetor. You know each other, then?"

One-Paw turns to watch Craft's departure. "A pleasant fellow, that Mercurian," he comments. "I am honored to know such a fine man. And giving his name after only a first meeting, such trust." The old man looks definitely impressed.

Damaris chuckles low. "Our first names are not so sacred; we use them to provide individuality and personability. To separate our deeds from those of our fathers... or mothers. What did he say your name was? One-Paw? I am Damaris Tritonides." She gives no title, but the presence of guards and a maidservant do well enough to indicate she's of some rank.

"Yes, I'm One-Paw," says One-Paw happily, extending a rather unwashed hand. "I am always pleased to make the acquaintance of such a beautiful woman." He winks exaggeratedly.

Damaris chuckles and nods her head slowly, elegantly, allowing her fingertips to ever-so-lightly touch the top of your hand in courtly fashion. "It is my pleasure as well, One-Paw. Do you reside in Haven?"

One-Paw grins broadly, displaying his elongated canines. "Oh, no," he says. "I am a traveler, just here on business. Is it true, what you said about names? That is very curious."

Damaris nods. "Indeed, it is true. We prefer some familiarity with each other before our first names are used; it is often a sign of respect to use only the last name. But among friendly acquaintances and family, it's often not necessary. The first name holds no secrets, no power..."

Damaris tilts her head. "So among the Sylvans, use of the first name indicates trust?"

"Oh, much more than trust," One-Paw explains. He pulls a long-stemmed pipe from his pocket as a contemplative look crosses his face. "Imagine, hmm, no, to us, to give your name is to give power. It is a deeper trust than I seem to be able to put words to," he chuckles.

Damaris nods, though. "I do understand what you say, I believe. I have done some studies of the Sylvan race, which helps...though the texts are quite sparse." She sighs the sigh of a denied scholar, and walks to the next statue. She gazes up at it absently, then turns back to you. "So have you heard of the near-peace among the races the Emperor tried to establish? What did you think of that?" she inquires conversationally, but studying you interestedly.

One-Paw shrugs slowly. "This is something I do not understand," he answers. "If peace is wanted, why will it not just happen? This Emperor must have been a great chief indeed if he could create peace where it was not wanted; it sorrows me that I was never able to meet him."

Damaris bows her head momentarily, then looks again at you with those weary grey eyes. "I just don't understand how people could want warfare and blood spillage rather than peace!" she exclaims, voice a bit hoarse, her wings stretching as if to punctuate the statement. More softly, she agrees, "He was a great chief."

One-Paw studies you for a moment, and then says softly, "This brings to mind a tale I heard when I was in Three-Leaf Wood visiting the Tanhahenu."

Damaris traces the carefully-carved designs on one statue's marble shield. "And what tale might that be?" she inquires softly. Chloe reclines against a statue further away, arranging herself so that the sunlight hits her curvaceous form quite flatteringly for any passersby.

"Among the People, there are many tales of Ferrin Firefox," One-Paw says. "Erm, you must forgive me, I am no storyteller, but, at one time, the Tanhahenu were at war with a neighboring tribe. For five generations they fought and killed, and many sons were lost to the People until it was unclear whether there would indeed be continued generations."

Damaris perches on the base of the statue, smoothing the folds of her pale silk toga, listening--her attentiveness and expression a mingling of scholarly curiosity, and a desire for self-enlightenment. Perhaps the contentedness of a child being told a yarn, as well.

One-Paw continues, "Ferrin Firefox came upon the Tanhahenu camp one day. The women were there, all weeping and mourning for their lost men. The wounded lay in great rows, their wounds bleeding because the Shamans were too exhausted to move. He saw great sorrow here, and it brought much pain to his soul, such that he vowed to find a way to end it."

Damaris nods ever-so-slightly as you speak of pain to the soul...

"At first he tried to bring the chiefs of the two tribes together," narrates the wrinkly Sylvan, "but they fought in the peace tent and gouged at each other's cheeks until Firefox was forced to separate them. Then he went to the warriors of the two tribes, and though they were loathe to continue warring, their pride and honor demanded it of them. And finally, he went to the women of the tribe, and though even they did not want the war, they were powerless to keep their men from battle."

Damaris smiles faintly at the last bit, as if she recalls a memory or another tale.

One-Paw continues, "Finally, Firefox knew that if he was to end this war, he would need to visit Tirawa Sky-Father himself, and beseech the Great Spirit for aid. He began a long and arduous journey which took him to the tops of the tallest peaks, and there, he spoke unto the heavens: 'Tirawa Sky-Father, I beseech thy aid!'

"'What is it you wish, my favored son?' called down Sky-Father. And Firefox answered, 'In these forests below, the People fight against their own kind, and blood is shed upon the sacred ground. The warring brings sorrow and unhappiness to the people!'

One-Paw gestures grandly as he continues his story, "'And what would you have me do, Ferrin Firefox?' asked Sky-Father. 'Please, stop them from killing each other,' Firefox pleaded. 'Where is it my place to interfere, if this is what they want?' Sky-Father countered.

"'But nobody wants it!' shouted Firefox at the heavens, for he was surely frustrated now. And then, Sky-Father answered: 'Well, then stop.' And the heavens were silent." One-Paw's face falls as he finishes his narration.

Damaris' forehead creases between her brows, a minute frown before her face smoothes itself to marble-like impassivity. She sighs, and rises from her perch, arms clasped behind her back under her wings. "Neither side wants to stop first. It requires trust. Trust is difficult after centuries of slaughter."

"Do you want to know something, Tritonides?" One-Paw asks solemnly.

Damaris looks up to the heavens, as if speaking to her own gods. "But all I've asked is that they see the illogic of this bloodshed...and I had reached the point where even the... tribal leaders, so to speak, agreed. But the masses will not listen!"

One-Paw winces at your words, and then, perhaps wisely, stays silent.

Damaris stares up at the sky a few moments longer, eyes creased against the illumination of Phoebus. Eventually, she looks back down. "I want to know many things, One-Paw," she murmurs.

One-Paw sighs wearily. "Today, there is no other tribe sharing Three-Leaf Wood with the Tanhahenu."

Damaris nods once, absently. "Joined peacefully to the Tanhahenu? Left peacefully? Or were vanquished and are now extinct?"

"Vanquished, I am afraid," One-Paw mumbles. "The Tanhahenu tell this story as a warning to their children. They are forbidden by their elders to lift a weapon against another of the People."

Damaris nods; her emphasis on the last choice had shown she already knew the answer. "Their hindsight is perfect, one might say." Her tone is regretful. "But right now, I feel like the clairvoyant that no one heeds. My desire for peace is a curse, it seems."

"Maybe you are looking in the wrong place, Tritonides," One-Paw suggests. "When you talk to your own folk, they see--forgive me--nothing but another of their own. But if you speak instead to the Varati?"

Damaris chuckles dryly. "I have spoken to the Varati god-king, and to his chief guard. Both are inclined to peace. But as I said, the masses will not listen. Aye, not even to their god-king."

One-Paw shakes his head in disbelief. "Even among the People there are stories of war between your folk and the Varati. What great dispute caused such quarrel? Surely there is some ransom that can be paid?"

Damaris smiles faintly. "Both races feel it is their birthright to rule the world. The world was given to us Empyreans by our godly ancestors, and the world must be conquered by the Khalid Atar of the Varati if he is to rejoin the other gods among the heavens. The histories are at an impasse, you see."

One-Paw scratches his scalp with a puzzled look on his face. "It is sounding like you are in a pickle," he concludes. "Is Khalid Atar not this god-king you spoke of?"

Damaris nods, declaring in a voice that reveals no belief or disbelief, "Khalid Atar is the god-king of his people. He is immortal, if the eyes of generations cannot be fooled. But he must remain in the earthly domain rather than joining the other gods in the heavens. For some reason, he seems to find peace as important as I do, and as the Emperor Justinius did. But then, he will probably outlive us all... I cannot speculate as to his motives. But I want to take advantage of potential peace while I can." She begins pacing slowly back past statues she's already seen, in the general direction of the Palladium.

Damaris murmurs, "If there is any potential for peace left." Her voice is weary.

"I am thinking Khalid Atar would be wanting war," One-Paw says. "He has been waiting quite a long time to be a god. I would think that trying to act like a mortal when wanting to be a god is as uncomfortable as holding one's bladder while searching for a suitable tree, in a sense. Why delay any longer?"

Damaris can't help but laugh at that frank analogy, the sound bubbling out of her like a geyser. Her amusement is short-lived, however, as she sighs and regards you. "If he wanted war, he could have it at any time. His behavior is most peculiar for one who desires the battle between the races to commence." She shakes her head. "He is cunning, though. Worry not; I would never trust him entirely, as much as I'd dearly love to do so."

One-Paw chuckles, "It is no simple matter to outwit a god, child. Which reminds me of another story..." He trails off as he studies you for a moment. "But you are looking as if you have not slept in many days, so perhaps it should wait."

Damaris runs a hand over her forehead, brushing back a few flyaway silver strands of hair that normally would look graceful and elegant, but now only add a sense of dishevelment to her tired face. She chuckles wryly. "So I am a young, beautiful woman, yet also a bedraggled careworn one. The latter is more accurate, I'll admit. When I do sleep, I dream of slaughter..." Her eyes go distant for a moment, as she recalls. "You're correct, One Paw. I require rest. But you'll have to tell me your tale the next time we meet." She smiles slightly.

"One last thing, Tritonides," One-Paw grins mischievously. "Forgive me for being the skeptic, but can you honestly tell me you feel nothing in your marrow when I utter..." the old graisha pauses dramatically, long enough to make eye contact, "Damaris?"

Damaris' back actually stiffens slightly, and her slight smile stretches dryly as you make your point. "Though we do not guard our names so secretly, One-Paw, it is still startling for an adult to have hers used after such brief acquaintance, and without the privilege being exchanged..." she nods to you. "A good day to you, One-Paw."

One-Paw chuckles, then bows clumsily (he's obviously not done it before). "Until we speak again, child," he says, grinning toothily as he spins on his heels and makes his way from the Palladium.

FIN  

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