Date: October 5, 1999
Place: Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven
Cast: Ajii'mah, Altair, Amineh, Archana, Aurora (I), Cassius, Cepheus, Elidi, Faanshi, Khalid (IV), Maya, Mekhti, Niamh, Oriane, Rabi, Ranjeet, Rihana, Riva, Sarasvati, Shahar, Spirit-Whisperer, Timin, Woodchuck
Scene: Recently elevated to kshatri status, Ranjeet al'Samar weds the Pasha of Haven, Shahar al-Jehan, at the close of the Varati Holi festival.

Announcement: Word begins to trickle forth from Atesh-Gah that the wedding of Shahar al-Jehan Khalida and Ranjeet al'Samar Khalida is going to begin within the hour. Excitement grows within those walls while guests from the other embassies and Delphi begin to arrive.

Courtyard - Atesh-Gah - Haven:
      If indeed the Hebrew folk of lost Earth are correct in their legends, then this must be the legendary garden from which mankind was expelled. The flat expanse of the great courtyard of Atesh-Gah is covered in the most luxurious grass of bright emerald green, broken only by a cobblestone path for riding and walking to prevent wear upon the lawn. Rich copses of carefully tended wood grow by the walls, lovingly groomed flower gardens acting as a barrier of color before the rising trees.
      Perhaps even more relaxing than the sight of the yard are the sensations of it. The lovely scents of flower and tree; honey-suckle, apple blossom, peach, and jasmine; combine with the soft cushion of green grass to provide a sense of peace and harmony that defies the looming sand-hued walls of unbreakable stone. Not even the shadowed maw of the main gate, nor the blocky, unimpressive presence of the impenetrable main keep can overshadow the beauty of this place. Indeed, the stark contrast serves only to enhance it.

Another guest, in through the gates. This one, however, is not clad in any finery, nor arrives with pomp. Probably just as soon as smuggled his hide in the back with the catering. Just a swaddle of hood and cloak, and the wiry halfbreed (it's Timin) underneath. At least the Agni-Haidar didn't knock him to the turf when he walked by.

Riva's serene expression remains unchanged as she steps through the gap, leaving the street behind. Sets of Sentries stand beyond the pillars, maintaining visual contact with the Decemvir who retains only two escorts with her. She remains a silent observer for the time being.

Altair steps inside quietly, his helmet nestled in the crook of his arm. He is dressed in what could only be considered his best armor. A little more decorated, but nonetheless Delphic. His wings stand proudly behind him, a pristine white in contrast to the polished black metal he has encased himself in.

Chuckling softly, Ranjeet takes Oriane's hand anyway, escorting her to the front where most of the special guests are seated. "Not at all, Princess," he assures her, knowing how much she dislikes the title and enjoying using it all the more for that. There is something about a blush upon a woman's cheeks that brings such delight to Ranjeet. "Here, I hope this will be comfortable for you?"

Ajii'mah passes between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah.

Elidi slips into the courtyard with a languid grace, the gentle sway of her hips stirring the glimmering fabric of her gown. Cassius follows close behind her, his expression far different from the slyly amused face of his wife.

Cepheus passes between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah.

Oh dear. The very front row? And as far as Oriane knows, her mother is still in Masada. Swallowing, the girl attempts a smile at Ranjeet, and only half succeeds. She does give him that furious crimson blush he so enjoys, though. Nodding her head, she murmurs in her soft, shy voice, "It is a seat of honor, Do--Imphadi. I ... I would not wish to prevent another from sitting in such a seat, though."

Moving into the courtyard with wide-eyed, sudden shyness, Ajii'mah pulls her sari tightly against her still-slender frame. Her narrowed gaze goes from group to group, and a slight smile purses her lips as she notes the amount of her people here.

The solicitous Varati and the darkling Empyrean have received much scrutiny from Maya as she approached in near silence. And now she stops near at hand. Her voice is low and quiet as she speaks, "If he bids you sit, Domina, does it not do you well to accept the honor? Sit. If another deserved the seat more than you, they would have been placed there already." Subtle undertones color the statement. It may be completely sincere. And then again, perhaps not.

Moving to his wife's side, Cassius slips an arm through hers, though only the closely observant might notice the subtle squeeze of his fingers against her flesh. Together, they move out of the way of other arriving guests, and the Augustin patriarch surveys the courtyard, neutrally observing the decorations and wedding preparations. Evidently, he is waiting to be shown where to sit, or stand, to watch the proceedings.

Accompanied by no one, a solitary Empyrean man drifts into the courtyard. Looking strangely comfortable among the mixed party-goers, the large form of the retired Archon pauses at the entryway to glance around. No look of any feeling rests on his face; the Tritonides nobleman is probably just looking for a chair.

Aurora passes between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah.

Mekhti steps out of the embassy and joins you in the courtyard.

Turning to Maya, Ranjeet draws his hands together, inclining his head over them in greetings. "Indeed, Imphada, you are exactly right. I do hope that you too will accept a seat of honor and make yourself comfortable?"

Elidi allows her gaze to rove the decorations as well, copper orbs scanning the people just as intently. Perhaps it is old habit that catalogues the number of weapons and men in the area. She tilts her head as her gaze drifts over those assembled and she murmurs something to her husband.

Shifting black wings with a loud rustle, Oriane adjusts them as best she can in the slightly foreign style seat. Blushing even more, the darkling girl blinks at Maya then at Ranjeet. Trying to remain as unobtrusive as she can in that front row seat, she casts her eyes downward and murmurs to the two Varati, "It is an honor and I would not wish to offend any by refusing such."

Identifying the section obviously meant for dignitaries and guests, Spirit-Whisperer pivots slightly and makes his way over to that direction. All the candala lined up in a row. All the better to keep watch over them, to be sure. The Estrel paces carefully forward to the designated area, making eye contact with no one in the crowd until he's shown to a seat. As he settles carefully, smoothing his robe over his knees, he brings his bright blue eyes to rest on Ranjeet. He still maintains his pleasant expression.

Altair steps out of the way and off to the side, glancing about with a small smile at all the colorful decorations. There he stands, something of a wallflower himself now, as he looks to those attending. Also looking for an out-of-the-way seat, perhaps.

With the requisite quartet of red-caped Schola accompanying her, the Empress of the Empyreans, Aurora Khalida Jove, appears at the gates of the embassy. Once they''ve stepped onto foreign soil, the Schola move off to other corners of the courtyard, so as to eliminate the idea that they're there for hostile purposes. But they do keep an eye on their charge -- as well as whatever hulking Agni-Haidar might be stationed around the courtyard.

The Empress stands poised, wings folded serenely at her back, her grey gaze flitting from individual to individual before she moves further onto Atesh-Gah's grounds.

With a slight shift of her body and a bowing of her head, Maya spreads her flame-marked hands in a gesture of acquiescence. "How could I do otherwise, Imphadi." She sinks to a seat alongside Oriane without another comment and even bestows a smile upon the Empyrean woman, cracking the stony facade with a suddenly open expression.

Ajii'mah laughs softly as a sprinkling of flower petals falls in her long hair, she follows the flow of the crowd, dipping and weaving through the celebratory peoples in the courtyard. She stops briefly to ask another young Varati woman where she might sit, and thusly directed, goes to take a seat.

Rihana passes between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah.

Riva is standing not far distant from Altair. She quietly observes the gathering and tips her head as she continues to watch those gathering to watch the wedding. Her almost aloof demeanor is stark contrast to those assembled closest to her. "Altair," she greets in a brief manner.

As his gaze lifts toward the gates of Atesh Gah, the charmed smile falters for a moment, distracted or surprised perhaps by something, or someone, that he sees. Inclining his head to the pair graciously, Ranjeet shifts through the crowds, drawing to the back until he stops at the figure who has caught his eye. He stops a few feet away from the Empress Aurora, bowing his head in respectful greeting as he touches brow, lips, and heart, extending his arm out in a more formal Varati greeting. After all, she may be Empyrean, but she is also of Clan Khalid. "Namaste' Empress ... may I offer you a group of Clan Khalida guards for your ... safekeeping?" His gaze lifts, resting meaningfully upon the Schola that stand disapprovingly back. Best to nip any unpleasantness in the bud.

Dark, carven faces and bright colors fill the courtyard quickly. The candala are but flickers amongst their masses as Varati begin to fill into the area, quietly respectful. Many mill about, but more slip to their seats as directed.

Cassius murmurs some mild remark to his wife, unheard by any but her, as he finally sees a clear spot among the assembled guests. He nods to those few he knows as he and Elidi head in that direction, but the greeting is token at best. Hardly a social butterfly, Cassius' expression seems even more forbidding than usual. Grim, almost. He makes no attempt to mingle with the other guests.

Sarasvati steps out of the embassy and joins you in the courtyard.

The small horde that is the family of Tumdari arrives, five males in a protective circle around the father's only present daughter and her maidservant. Rihana peeks out from behind the sheltering shoulders of her brothers and father as the little bit of Clan moves as one to find a place to sit. With the other visitors, naturally, or -- more properly put -- with the spectators, as they have not been specifically invited.

Rihana hesitates a moment as the men take their seats, for while she remains upright she can actually see. Everything is taken in with rapt attention: decorations, clothing, weapons and especially armor. Dress armor? Some of it. She thinks she might go into shock from the sensory overload, and quickly settles down as her servant tugs her back into awareness.

The slight form of Mekhti slips from the doors of Atesh-Gah, still fastening her veil about her neck. For perhaps the first time in her life, she's gotten it perfectly arranged. The sight of all the Empyreans slows her, considerably, but she continues, moving to stand near the fringes of the small Varati crowd, with the faint hope that her Imphadi will appear.

Cepheus watches the Schola pass him as he stands just beside the entryway, their charge seeming to cause the middle-aged Empyrean a slight touch of amusement behind his guarded eyes. The glimmer is gone as quickly as it started, the man taking up residence several meters from the exit. His eyes narrow slightly at a few who sit in the crowd, but who it is or why it happens is rather unclear due to the massive numbers present.

Altair looks to Riva whom he hadn't noticed yet, smiling and bowing his head to her slowly. "Ave, Riva. It's good to see you here." He sidesteps closer to her, leaning in to whisper something to her a moment.

Elidi drifts alongside her husband, her bronze gown shimmering with each step. Her eyes cut sidelong to him and she leans to speak a little more intimately to Cassius, voice lowered so that no one might overhear.

"...there...over...Candala..." Yasmeen, Rihana's maidservant, whispers to her. Rihana nods and looks the Empyreans over with queasy nervousness. The splendor of the decorations, though, recaptures her attention once it's clear the winged ones aren't snatching babies out of the crowd and eating them.

Altair mutters, "I... beginning... a... be... have... friend among them..."

Something flickers across Aurora's face with the suddenness of a cloud obscuring the sun, before she dons a gracious smile and bows her head in response to the groom's welcome. "Namaste," she replies. "And thank you, imphadi. I am grateful for the consideration your Clan has shown me." She cocks her head marginally to one side before leaning a touch closer and asking, "Where shall I sit?"

She stays to the back, quiet and meek, though unveiled like the others. Sarasvati gazes about, drinking in the sights and the sounds as if she had not seen or heard her people in years ... as if the very grounds and celebration were alien to her. Though her lips smile broadly, there is a quirk of sadness in her gaze ... a touch of melancholy.

Even though Oriane hasn't snatched any babies for a snack, she does look like she has indigestion. Swallowing nervously, she darts a shy smile to Maya beside her, but then reverts her gaze back to the fragile hands folded carefully in her lap. A faint breeze ruffles her clothing and feathers, but otherwise she remains still, trying very hard not to draw attention to herself even though she sits in the very first row.

With a sparkling gleam playing over his eyes, Spirit-Whisperer leans forward in his seat and turns his shoulders slightly to the side, looking past the Varati next to him to find Maya. With a playful grin, he winks at the woman and mutters under his breath, "My aren't you stunning, today." Suppressing a chuckle, he straightens himself once again.

Whatever Elidi just said to him sparked an unexpected response. Despite his grim-faced demeanor, Cassius' mouth curls up at one corner in what could almost be a smile. Yet he retains his hold on his wife's arm as he directs her to a more out-of-the-way spot in which to view the proceedings.

Offering the Empress his arm, Ranjeet gestures to two Khalida guards, who draw behind them as he walks her down the aisle to the front. "It would be my honor to seat you, Domina," he assures her, his smile warm, if a touch crooked. The Varati's eyes, however, seem almost a touch sad as he guides Aurora to her seat.

Maya straightens slightly and measures up Oriane as she turns to glance back at the one who spoke to her. She focuses on Spirit-Whisperer and then suddenly smiles again. Voice pitched low enough to not disturb the others around her, yet loud enough to reach the Estrel's ears, she replies, "You are much too kind, Spirit-Whisperer. You are looking quite... yourself."

Elidi's mouth quirks and she casually murmurs in reply to whatever it is Cassius says to her. Oh, how very fascinating the scenery is. She's too busy looking at everything to look directly at Cassius, but she's quite capable of murmuring to him nonetheless.

From the steps of the Atesh-Gah they descend, more than two dozen of Khalida's noblest and finest, arrayed in their best, a veritable parade of kshatri. First come the honor guard of Khalida, eight handsome men, well-heeled. They are followed by the brothers of the bride, all six in number, and the accompanying wives.

One small child, a girl, walks before Rabi and Archana, strewing flowers before the women as part of the ceremony, part of Holi's splendor. Rabi and Archana are next, braced by two Khalida guards, to represent Shahar's mother, long dead. And, finally, comes the God-King Himself, Khalid Atar, in his radiance and unfeigned charisma, alongside the bride, a dignified and subdued Shahar.

A sideways glance at Spirit-Whisperer beyond Maya widens Oriane's eyes slightly, but soon enough the actual wedding procession begins and the dark winged girls eyes are drawn towards the kshatri men emerging from the building.

Conversation stops at the arrival of not just the bride, but Khalid-Atar himself. At the least it stops nearest Maya. Her smile drops away like a leaf carried over a thunderous waterfall, hardly leaving even a memory. Henna-marked and bejeweled hands flicker in a gesture of obeisance as she bows her head in the presence of her God.

Devoid of dress armor or any other such lunacy, Cepheus departs from his position and begins milling through the crowds. Dressed in elegant but simple clothes, the man seems to become "just another Empyrean" as he wanders toward the seats. As things seem to be beginning, his steps move faster, the retired Archon almost literally diving into a empty spot of seats. Amusing how it just happens to be behind Cassius and Elidi. As he rights himself in the chair, his eyes take an instant to study the backs of the heads in front of him, horror briefly touching his lips. Fortunately, the look is gone in an instant.

Aurora threads her arm through Ranjeet's, yet any response she was about to make is subdued by the sudden appearance of the bride's retinue, followed by the Pasha herself, as well as the God-King of the Varati people. The Empress sucks in a quiet breath, and her folded wings give an anxious quiver at her back. Then, any uneasiness is banished from her countenance, and she affixes a placid smile to her lips as she moves to where Ranjeet leads her.

Faanshi and Amineh step out of the embassy and into the courtyard.

God appears. Rihana sucks in her breath. No one in her family can help but see Shahar when he frames her so. Suddenly the wedding is eminently legal, holy, and blessed; suddenly Shahar -- known before as an abstract combination of leader and woman -- has a rank far above and beyond what any rumor has given her. She has but a heartbeat to take in Shahar's gorgeous attire before she and Yasmeen and her father and her four brothers are pressing their foreheads into the cobblestones as the bridal party nears where they kneel.

Seating the Empress, Ranjeet brushes a brief kiss over her knuckles, an older stately tradition that seems a touch out of place, but perhaps it is simply nerves and a wish to do the right thing by her royalty and Clan affiliation. But by the entrance of the wedding party, it is time for him to make a hasty retreat to his place. Again, he bows to her before turning away and heading with stately grace to his place to wait.

Whatever reply Cassius was about to make to his wife is cut off by the sudden appearance of the bride and her illustrious companion. His head had been bent to murmur near Elidi's ear, but now it rears up, and there's a mild shudder that overtakes his wings. Any trace of a smile that had touched his mouth is now gone. His gaze has gone blank and icy, and he merely watches, stone-faced, as the bridal party descends the steps of Atesh-Gah.

Woodchuck passes between the heavy stone pillars that flank the entrance to Atesh-Gah.

The Varati who haven't taken seats kneel to the ground when their God-King appears. The Neverending Flame himself. Their foreheads press to the stones in silent salute. Only a few who are too stunned to move only take a moment before they, too, drop to their knees.

Seeing Aurora seated nearby, Oriane gives a little smile and relaxes slightly. At the very least, it's a familiar face and enough to soothe faintly jangled nerves. Breathing a faint sighing sound, the girl shifts her wings and shifts her eyes to watch the approaching bridal party.

The elegant dresses and saris worn by Archana and Rabi carve serpentine trails out of the path of rose petals strewn by the little one before them; a few cling, here and there, to accent the richness of the silks' colors. Rabi's hands are folded before her, fingers decorated for this one very special occasion with the vanity of henna. Those close enough to her would notice that instead of the traditional paisley or ivy patterns, the Nayaka's woman has poetry written in tiny, delicate calligraphed letters interwoven to seem like an abstract pattern. Like the poetry embroidered into the hem of her saris, the calligraphy seems to move of its own life with the motion of her body. She wears the traditional heavy, opaque veils that completely cover her features but for a crescent of nothing that reveals her copper-gold eyes and the bridge of her nose. And this is all that is necessary to show that this artificial attempt to hide her from the world fails utterly to suppress her radiant joy at this occasion. Even her downturned gaze fails to suppress it. She'd dance over the petals if it would be proper to do so.

Curiouser and curiouser. First Cassius seems overly concerned about what Elidi might do to offend people at this party and then... when the bridal group arrives... he goes all icy. His wife looks over the procession and then she studies her husband from beneath red-gold lashes... copper-colored eyes assessing his reactions.

Seated alone, though her own Schola and the Khalida guards that Ranjeet just appointed each seem intent on their charge, Aurora settles into passivity. She stills her wings at her back, folds her hands in her lap, and watches. Only a few who might care to look again might notice how tightly her fingers are clenched together in the silks of her gown.

A long table draped in gold-embroidered crimson has been set up, surrounded by four stone bowls filled with licking flame. Each is supported by filigreed iron stands so delicate it seems a wonder they can bear their burden at all. Two larger braziers have been set up, further to each side, each flanked with two Agni-Haidar in full, polished regalia. A circle of tallowed rice dyed blue and red has been arranged upon the flagstones before the table, and one of the filigreed iron stands has been set within it. Its bowl sits on the table, along with other wedding items; a flint, a brass wick-float in the shape of a sunburst, a narrow reed match, and a smaller bowl filled with kindling. On the left side of the table are finely-carved wooden stands inlaid with precious gems and Shaper-smooth stonework, heaped with the fineries of the bride-price; coffers of coins and bolts of finest cloth.

Niamh steps out of the embassy and joins you in the courtyard.

Woodchuck quickly enters Atesh-Gah, glancing around nervously as he goes. With all these germs and things going around, one can't be too careful. Especially around these... ick, Varati. The little man clasps an invitation in both of his hands, keeping them over his chest so the invitation is displayed proudly. See? He isn't crashing! As everyone drops to their knees, he arches a fiery brow. Did someone drop the ring? That would be horrible...

Riva's soft chuckle is at odds with the expression on her face as she gathers the sound of Altair's voice. "Shall we make way to a seat? Perhaps over there, those spots near Cepheus seem vacant and I see not clear indication of particular seating."

Towards the very back of the throng, where shudra and naraki who are not otherwise occupied with duties are permitted their own places to watch the events unfolding, Faanshi quietly makes her obeisances in the midst of all those around her. Wide green eyes reflecting a tangle of sentiments, predominantly awe, are the only readable portion of her expression, for although this is Holi's grand finale, the shudra girl has shyly resumed her veil. There is no sign of her loyal hound anywhere, not tonight; Kosha would not be exactly appropriate on this solemn occasion. But Faanshi feels his lack keenly, even as she tries to peek up and around larger shudra flanking her to get what view she can of the majestically clad bride and groom.

Altair nods to Riva, looking towards Cepheus with a smile. So they did invite the Archon! He offers Riva his arm as escort as they make their way quickly to Cepheus' position to sit down. "We best make haste. The procession is commencing," he says quietly.

A procession of crimson silks emerge behind the wedding procession, simple and stately compared to the elegance that preceded them. Two tall Akhund, polished falcares at their hip, flank the smaller, regal form of the Nabi. Amineh is unveiled for Holi, her silvered hair decorated with ruby pins and delicate gold combs, the fire opal at her neck blindingly alive in the sunlight. Her guardsmen split off to spots on either side of the braziers and table, leaving the Nabi to move towards the altar and survey all gathered, Varati and candala alike, with serene intensity.

To the rear and to one side of Shahar, the God-King of the Varati waits for his Imam; his arms folded, chin lifted in defiance of any who would speak ill of the Pasha. His wings rustle here and there as his eyes sweep slowly over the crowd. Let it be known, his stance says, that he does not think ill of the Shakir Khalida, and let no other man think ill.

Elidi looks at Cassius a moment longer and then she leans to press a kiss very near to his ear, whispering there after.

Shahar herself retains a certain aloofness that is hers by nature, yes, but there too is a pristine removal from the realms of the commonplace, as if she were buoyed upon the feathery wings of her guardian. As if the first wedding never took place and she has been restored to maidenly proportions for this second nuptial. Strides graceful and long mark her passage toward the groom, toward the man to whom she has promised herself, and a fissure appears in her smooth composure: the hint of a diffident smile lights her feline eyes, implying delight at the event.

Niamh slips in at the last minute, hesitating a moment as he starts to move towards the Atarvani. No... he must break that habit. So he tries to blend in with the other Varati... merely as a spectator it seems.

Rihana rises from her bow a touch before the menfolk around her -- not out of disrespect, but out of the want to see something before her view is once again obscured by meaty shoulders. She raises her eyes just in time to be spitted by the Nabi's fiery gaze; she holds her breath as that intensity passes over her. She cannot bring herself to look directly at the Amir-al. So instead, she focuses her attention on the bride, watching wide-eyed and wistfully and perhaps a touch jealously as well.

Where he sits, Spirit-Whisperer can't help but pick up on the sudden awe that swiftly charges the mood of the gathering. It hits him like a club. He's an Estrel, a member of the most powerful gathering of mages in the world and rulers of Haven; he was never raised to revere the Amir-al like the Varati. But he can't help but feel humbled by the God-King's presence. He's never been near such a one before. Spirit-Whisperer bows his head in respect. It is the only thing to do.

The Nabi seems unmoved by the opulent bride-price, the countless eyes focusing upon the wedding ceremony, even the presence of the Amir-al Himself. Those familiar with her -- if any are -- might notice a brighter spark to her eyes, a sharper glimmer, especially when her attention moves to the husband- and wife-to-be. Amineh unclasps henna-patterned hands after a long, steady contemplation of Ranjeet and silently invites him into the circle with a smooth gesture.

Woodchuck tugs at his riding gloves a bit, and glances around. My word... God-Kings, marriages... too many things have been going on, much too many. Emerald orbs peer around curiously, his look of curiosity could put a cat to shame at this moment. He slips in a bit further, folding his invitation and tucking it into a glove. He hasn't been carded yet, since the time that he entered. And here he though he wouldn't even get in.

Cepheus looks somewhat ill as he watches Elidi and Cassius in front of him. Nothing like having a soap-opera-like scene in front of you during your stay in hell. He wrinkles his nose as she kisses him, saved only from having to run for it by the arrival of Altair and Riva. A polite nod is given to them both, although the majority of the ex-Archon's attention returns to Atar. It has been a long time, after all.

Though a little too old to be dancing among the rose petals, Archana moves with her own stately grace through the crowd, keeping close to Rabi's side. Also veiled, curiously enough, dark brown eyes of no especial beauty study those assembled, flicking from one spectator to the next, rendered remarkable only by the warm expression therein.

Mekhti has yet to take her seat, keeping her place with many of those who also haven't taken advantage of the proffered chairs. She lifts her head from the ground as the others do, rising from her kneeling position so that they may view the ceremony. Mekhti, being considerably less tall than those around her continues to move backwards so that she might see over them. So much so that she eventually stands by herself, far to the rear, where she might see. Her gaze is drawn, for their is so much to view. The bride, in her finery, and the groom. Her mother and Rabi. The Nabi, who stands before all, and finally the God-King, where her gaze lingers the longest. Perhaps being far from center has given her courage.

Rabi and Archana come to rest outside the circle, opposite the bride-price. The little girl stops as well, leaning back against Archana's sheltering skirts, more than a bit intimidated by the daunting figure of the Amir-al. The child clutches her basket of petals in her hands and regards him, awed. But eventually her attention wanders towards Shahar and her beautiful dress and the circle of colors and the magnificent, princely Ranjeet.

Rabi raises her gaze just enough to watch her akraba; it seems impossible, but her smile widens. She feels like her face is going to break. Thank goodness for the veils. She can't stop smiling.

Riva settles into place between the two men, her Atlantean escorts finding a spot behind her. She seems little aware of Cepheus past sparing him a polite nod. She neither snubs nor reacts very much to anyone or anything here, present in body and with full attention but, properly, primarily an observer.

Niamh offers a deep bow to the Amir-Al, but is unconcerned as he is rather busy with other things. But it at least makes him feel better. His dark eyes take in the Nabi's bright eyes and he actually smiles. Well, it is Holi still, yes? He then turns to watch the rest of the procession.

The crowds do not concern the Amir-al, nor do the awed shudra or the stoic Atarvani wreathed in opulence and finery. It is the event itself that Khalid focuses on now, his eyes flickering between Ranjeet and Shahar. Though his body language is all unpliable steel and his eyes are inscrutable, one corner of his mouth cannot but twitch upward for the slightest of moments. It is a joyous occasion, especially in light of Shahar's previous marriage.

Cassius reacts to that act of apparent affection from his wife with only a faint smile. Then, squeezing her arm -- which he still has not loosened his hold upon -- he turns his attention to the wedding ceremony and assumes a look a of bland neutrality. The icy wall is back in place, as formidable as ever.

Head bowing in respect as the bridal party passes, Oriane's dark eyes still move in all directions, taking in the people and ceremony with a curiosity that even overshadows her shyness.

Altair looks to the ceremony taking place, releasing a little sigh as he shakes his head. He leans in to whisper to Riva again, as silently as a churchmouse. A smile is on his face, but it is a little sad.

Amineh is Shahar's friend, her spiritual guide, and someone she genuinely admires, and while she awaits the progression of the ceremony, she casts a careful glance past those immediately surrounding her -- for a bride is ever surrounded by her family when presented for marriage -- and takes note of who has arrived, Varati or no, friend or no. Her smile re-emerges when she espies Aurora, kinswoman by adoption to Khalida, but by and large she is distant, appreciably so. Her fingers, however, find Rabi's close by and grip them in a singular, sororal style seeking support.

Rising up from his kneeling position, his gaze having never left the sight of his wife to be, framed by the glory and strength of their God-King, Ranjeet now draws close to the circle, accepting the Imam Nabi's offer to join them. To become one with the wedding party. Shahar and he are like soul mates, a perfect and unmistakable match amidst the mix of hues that color the circle of Varati. His gaze shifts, resting upon Shahar solely now, his features sober though the dark color of his eyes radiates warmth, like the caressing touch of a sun's beam upon one's face.

Lack of concern directed her way... enh, well, such is the lot of a shudra. Especially a halfbreed shudra. This is hardly new, and tonight, Faanshi spares very little energy fretting over that which always exists. Tonight, she is content to linger amongst the naraki and shudra permitted to observe the wedding, feeling not unlike the wide-eyed waifs she has periodically seen gazing hopefully at the wares of sweets-sellers in the Rialto. Timidly, earnestly, she subtly leans this way and that to try to see everything she can.

Weaving down through the indicated path, Archana stops on cue, accustomed to the ritual. This is hardly the first wedding that she has participated in, but it has been a long time since two such notable personages have been joined in her presence. Not as radiant as Rabi, nor as ecstatic, she still brings an aura of calm warmth along with her. Stroking the ebony hair of the child that clings slightly to her skirts, she allows herself a glance towards her own little girl in the crowd.

Amineh again studies Ranjeet for several moments, then addresses the gathering in a clear, cool voice. "In the name of Khalid Atar, Divine Flame of Heaven, blessings upon you and your families, that we come together to see Ranjeet al-Samar Khalida accept Shahar al-Jehan Khalida into his household as wife." She turns her attention to the Amir-al, who receives a steady look and the unwavering question: "Khalid Atar, what bring you to bear as gift of your Clan for the household of Ranjeet?"

Woodchuck tips his hat slightly, looking around with those big, green eyes. He wrinkles his nose a bit as he scurries about slowly along the back wall, sometimes tilting his head up at what he thinks is a familiar back of the head, but it never is. He tilts his mouth to the side, and turns. Oooh! There's someone that he remembers! The little Sylve hops his way over towards Faanshi. He doesn't yet say anything, but gives her a big, white-toothed grin.

Rabi's fingers twine with those of Shahar's -- her sister, given to her by God after He took away her sisters of blood in the terrible test that brought her here. And therefore so trebly precious, were she not precious in and of her own self. Shahar, Rabi thinks, is one likely to be the one to most underestimate and undervalue herself. Be happy, she thinks towards Shahar -- Rabi would laugh if she could, the joy bubbles up in her so that she feels intoxicated by it. She gives Shahar's fingers a gentle squeeze. Uh-oh, the giggling has started. Thank Atar she's mute. She tries not to shake too hard.

Khalid's chin lifts as he raises his voice in answer to Amineh's query; "I bring one hundred bolts of silk, linen and brocade alike," he answers, voice heavy and full in the air, "As well as ten wyverns and five thousand panas." Apparently, Khalid has no problems with tossing such wealth about where it concerns the Pasha of Haven.

Now it's Rihana's father's turn to go green. That much wealth his entire Clan doesn't see over the course of five years. Rihana can't stifle a sudden grin -- awed, impressed, delighted.

Though feeling out of place in the first row of guests, and doubly uncertain among so many Varati faces, Oriane still finds herself fascinated by the ceremony. Watching the God-King who married her mother as well as the bride and groom, she observes the intricacies of the ritual with the astuteness of a scholar.

Ajii'mah's eyes widen briefly at the listing of the God's gifts; such wealth is a splendor that her village could have only dreamed of.

Behind Khalid the six brothers of Shahar stiffen in pride, for their work, too, contributed to this fortune that serves as their sister's bride price. Lais keeps his expression neutral, but the youngest brother smirks: he knows Khalida has just shown its wealth substantially and unequivocally.

Elidi quietly watches from her place at Cassius' side, her own expression neutral except for the barest trace of a smirk of her own as she ingests the proceedings. The occasional glance is directed to her husband.

For any studying the bride groom closely, they might witness upon his face a widening of his gaze, a stunned light within his eyes. For Ranjeet did not agree to marry Shahar for money or power, wealth or elevation, as some have whispered and suggested. He already knew the bride price that Shahar's brothers had gifted upon him ... that quantity enough to choke him. It is only the ritual and requirements of the wedding that keep him restrained from offering a gasp at the unexpected gifts of the Amir-al. Indeed, the somewhat stunned expression takes a moment before it is drawn under complete control again.

At the pronouncements of the Amir-al, Faanshi sucks in a soft breath behind her veil. Speaking of feeling like a wide-eyed waif peeking into a sweets-seller's stall! The maiden sketches a reverential sigil across her breast, one for the dark-winged Son of the Dawn... and another, for good measure, for his Holy Mother. Only on the tail end of her God-King's words, for most of her attention is inexorably drawn in that direction, does she catch sight of Woodchuck coming up nearby. If there is anyone she expects to see in Atesh-Gah's grounds, the Sylvan is not among them. Another tiny gasp of surprise escapes her, and she bobs a hasty nod of greeting in his direction.

Turning now, as is appropriate in the ceremony, Ranjeet lifts his gaze to Shahar, his hand reaching out to her in invitation to join him within the circle. To make their two lives one ... to come join him in a ritual that will make them both complete, man and woman, husband and wife. For all eternity.

Another reason to dance with pride and joy: Rabi shivers for a moment, all of her silks set into sudden shimmering motion. The richness of it catches the light in white glimmerings and then the demure woman has control of herself. Ouch -- it hurts to smile so much!

Shahar keeps Rabi's fingers within her grasp, like a well-loved talisman, whilst the proclamation is made regarding her bride price. Then, when Ranjeet reaches for her, she lets go her sister's touch, smiles demurely at both Rabi and Khalid, and takes a single step that begins the bridge between a life alone, so sadly solitary, and one at the side of a man she truly desires. So says her shimmering gaze, resting upon him, once she is within the circle.

Soft whispers come from the small crowd of Varati that have gathered at the pronouncement of the bride price, but it is as short-lived as the expression on the groom's face. Shortly the silence falls upon the crowd again as they wait for what comes next.

Rabi is loathe to let go. But the man who is waiting for her akraba is one deeply beloved by herself as well: with perfect trust and joy Rabi unwinds her fingers from the connecting touch and feels her throat closing up as she watches Shahar take those steps away into the circle.

Woodchuck can't help but let a soft giggle escape from his thin lips, and he leans in closer to Faanshi. Well sure, you wouldn't expect to see him anywhere in the city, as he hasn't been around. His grin goes, as always, from ear to ear, and he wrings his gloved hands together. "Psst. Psst!" he whispers to her, leaning in closer. "It's me!

Cepheus picks his left leg up and rests it across his right knee, the large Empyrean already seeming to grow somewhat disconcerted in this environment. Retired Archon or not, the man's ability to "enjoy" crowded spaces seems limited. Perhaps there are too many images to experience... too many to over-load the senses. The Oracle's gray eyes watch the proceedings with a direct quality, the man not even realizing what his subtly fidgeting hands are doing. For a few minutes his hands pick at tiny stone wedged in sole of his shoe, a rather normal thing for the man to do. Finally free, he tosses the tiny object away. Unfortunately, the Empyrean literally isn't watching what he is doing, the tiny stone parabolicly flying through the air in front of the man. It doesn't have much height, but it does have just enough to land on the center Cassius' back and drop down the rear of his chiton. So small of size, the object would definitely not be noticed by anyone outside of half a meter or so. Then again, it doesn't seem to be noticed by Cepheus himself, the man's eyes intently on the happenings toward the front of the room.

Rihana chews her lower lip gently, thoughtfully, as she watches. Her father has not recovered from his bride-price-shock but she, being more detached from the financial dealings of her family, is able to pay more keen-minded attention. She sighs softly as the Pasha approaches her betrothed, and Yasmeen echoes the sound. What could be more romantic than this awesome dream of a scene? It's hard to remember that Shahar and Ranjeet are mortals, and kind ones at that. It's hard not to think one is dreaming a dream of angels.

The Nabi looks between Shahar and Ranjeet for several heartbeats. Her expression is serious though not stern; this is her duty and calling in life, but also her joy. Amineh turns to the table and lifts a stone bowl filled with oil, settling it into the filigreed stand waiting within the circle. Next, the starburst-shaped wick-float is retrieved, and delicately set afloat the oil. Finally, the flint and bowl of kindling; the flint offered to Ranjeet, the bowl placed in Shahar's hands. "The brazier," intones the Nabi, "is symbolic of your union. The bowl is empty without both sustenance and spark to light the way of the life before you. Hold the kindling, Shahar al-Jehan Khalida; use steel and flint to spark a flame, Ranjeet al'Samar Khalida; together start the fire that is the soul of our people and the heart of your union."

Mekhti's eyes are wide on the scene before her, as she attempts to memorize every small event that happens. The bride price causes her eyes to widen just a fraction, but her ears are tuned to the words of the Nabi. She does, after all, have a sister-consort to relay the entire wedding to.

As the former Archon's idly-tossed stone slithers down Cassius' back, his gaze flies skyward. 'By the Kronian,' he could be thinking. 'Tell me that didn't come from a bird.' But it doesn't feel slimy, and there aren't any suspicious-looking birds flying by. Relieved of the opportunity to tear his eyes away from the ceremony, the Augustin Deus glances surreptitiously over his shoulder while his wings fidget and rustle as the stone wends its way down his chiton.

Loathe to try to speak while the wedding ceremony is in progress, Faanshi nevertheless does not wish to ignore the merry-natured Sylvan, either. She lifts a hand to wave shyly to him, while trying to avoid the stern gaze of the elderly shudra matron sitting between her and the young Son of Earth who's wandered into the courtyard. "Namaste', old mother," the maiden whispers apologetically.

As the ceremony progresses, Spirit-Whisperer has returned to what is neutral for him. That meaningless smile is perched upon his lips, and his eyes follow the events with good-natured interest. His body is still, and his hands rest in his lap, still covered by the brown material of his kaftan's sleeves. The halfbreed's attention continues to reside on the person of Khalid Atar, and he observes the man-god with what can only be described as an intense interest.

Nodding her comprehension and obedience to Amineh's instructions, Shahar places her long, expressive fingers about the bowl as she gathers it close and awaits Ranjeet's part in the ceremony. She is sublime this day, in her own manner, evidencing a surfeit of joy that is the heritage of a bride blessed to marry the man she loves. Within her hands the bowl remains steady, and above it her eyes are twin gems, peridots wrapped in gold, that focus entirely on Ranjeet.

Elidi turns her eyes to Cassius at his surreptitious fidgeting. One red-gold brow imperiously arches as she looks at him, her gaze more curious than concerned. The wing nearest to her husband lowers a bit, canting behind his back in a casual semi-embrace akin to someone putting their arm along the back of someone's chair.

Riva's attention remains on the ceremony being performed. Whatever she feels about being here is masked by her calm expression. A glance sidewise to Cepheus, adjacent to her, when his movements disturb the peripheral vision notes the small incident. One eyebrow arches slightly at the convenient accident that she discretely pretends she did not see.

Altair blinks, something catching his attention out of the corner of his eye. A movement. A winged movement. He looks towards Deus and Dea Augustin, arching a brow as he sees Cassius' wings rustling so. Is the man all right? Maybe it's some disturbed mannerism in relation to the Varati? Maybe the man's just got a really bad itch? He looks back to the ceremony, every now and then glancing back at the Deus and his motions.

Elidi slips her arm about her husband's back as well, the motion casual and affectionate. After all, she is watching a wedding. Even if it is a 'rati one.

Woodchuck catches a few stray gazes his way like a cat. Maybe he is half cat...who knows? But the feeling of eyes on him is unmistakable. A performer just has that sixth sense to know when he's being watched. The goosebumps on the arms, or the hair standing a bit on the back of the neck. Whatever it is, he turns his gaze over the crowd, and offers a bright smile and a wave to all. Maybe the recognize him? He was, after all, the most famous man in the Rialto square before he left. He looks back to Faanshi, and grins broadly again. Talking at a wedding? Heck, if this kid had a semblance of what one could comprehend as a figment of a manner... well, he'd probably have broken a lot less bones in his lifetime. He keeps his gaze on the halfbreed woman, and whispers again, this time less audible.

His hand held her, fingers intertwining, interlocking with her own in prelude to the official intertwining of their souls. But they have already known, for some time now, that they are destined to live this lifetime together. Reluctantly he releases her so that Shahar might take up the kindling for the flame. A smile curls his lips, impulsive, as he recalls that kindling is just what Ranjeet told Shahar she had deep within her the first day they met. Kindling that was dry and plentiful, looking only for a spark to set it aflame and burn her asunder. How appropriate that what brought them together figuratively holds them together under the welcome binds of matrimony literally. Drawing a ceremonial dagger from beneath his jacket, made for this purpose and this purpose only, Ranjeet lifts it, laying it against the flint before striking it against the proffered kindling held in Shahar's hands. It is perhaps good prophesy that with the first spark the kindling catches, a tendril of smoke climbing into the air as Ranjeet blows upon it gently, a flame slowly forming and rising up between them.

As the flame licks at the kindling and steadily grows, Amineh's voice calls out to those gathered again, reverent and strong: "Let the Divine Flame warm them and cleanse them." She gestures to the guests with seamed hands in silent indication to repeat the phrase.

Rabi has laced her fingers once again and, unknowingly, they have wound about one another like a knot. She feels anxiousness about the flame in the brazier -- it would be a bad omen were it to remain unlit -- and feels relief as a tremendous lightening of her soul. She grins again, watching through a gaze watery with happy tears.

Lais and the brothers behind Khalid intone, properly, "Let the Divine Flame warm and cleanse them," entirely on cue. Nearby, their wives do the same, while the flower-bearing child keeps staring at Khalid's wings.

The elderly shudra shoots Faanshi another quite stern expression, and then one to Woodchuck to follow it up. Although the Sylvan's whisper might not be caught by too many others around them, the venerable dame still hears it, and Faanshi can tell this by the old shudra's piercing black stare upon her. Whispering another apology, the maiden offers to trade seats, gesturing earnestly to her own place as she momentarily gets up. Grudgingly, the older woman shifts over and leaves Faanshi free to settle down again by Woodchuck -- her brow furrowing at what he'd whispered, even as she belatedly starts and breathes out the ritual phrase a half-second behind everyone around her.

"Let the Divine Flame warm them and cleanse them," Rihana repeats. Yasmeen follows suit only a half-second later and a half-second later still her brothers and fathers and Rihana thinks, the Divine Flame is standing behind them; are they not already pure?

Cepheus continues to look entranced, the minutes passing and his gaze looking more and more distant. Too much overload... too much Aether here. He blinks hard abruptly, the Oracle seemingly trying to clear his head. It appears he is somewhat successful, his gray irises refocusing on the pyrotechnics toward the front. His expression remains emotionless, the thoughts in his head successfully shielded for the moment. It doesn't seem he has noticed Cassius developing what appears to be "ants in the pants."

Rabi cannot speak. But she prays the phrase silently, with all of her heart.

Normally so austere, Cassius bites his lower lip and his ice-blue eyes have widened with something akin to horror as he stares straight ahead. He's watching the ceremony unfold, noting the ritual of the flame and the repetition of the phrase, yet there's still an agitated fluttering from his wings. He looks as if he's trying hard not to squirm.

Woodchuck nods his head to Faanshi. Well, his head moves at more of a bob like motion. "Let the Divine..." he starts a little too late, and just falls silent so as to not mess up the procession. He whispers back to Faanshi, grinning broadly once more.

Ajii'mah's eyes brim with tears; though she does not know the bride nor the groom, a union is ever a beautiful thing. Clutching her sari in clasped hands, she lets her tears fall freely, unabashed at her outright display of emotion.

Niamh repeats the phrase with the others, his eyes alternating between the couple and Khalid Atar. He tries not to think that he will have to leave all of this once more to return to Delphi.

The Divine Flame, purifying the pair or not, is utterly oblivious to the child who stares at his wings. Or at least he appears. He's been stoic and still and oh-so-reserved this entire ceremony, immobile and silent. However, Khalid moves now, slowly turning his head so that he may look upon Elidi and Cassius, his lips turned dour by the aging Empyrean's fidgets. One might say that his eyes held a stormcloud of veiled threats -- if he bothered to veil them, which apparently is not something the God-King chooses to do at this moment. It's the same look a Pastor might give member of the congregation who keeps laughing inappropriately.

Caught up in witnessing this occasion, Oriane mumbles the words to herself with the vague distractedness of a scholar wishing she could take notes rather than the devotion of a true believer. Head tilting to one side, her hands stay folded delicately in her lap as she watches and listens. Slowly, the fact that Ranjeet and Shahar seem completely enamored with one another begins to filter through her observations as well.

The girl who is half-wrapped in Archana's long skirts unravels one chubby child's hand from her basket and sticks her finger into her mouth. She looks vaguely vexed as she tries unsuccessfully to look at Khalid Atar, the Nabi, and the bride and groom all at the same time.

The overlapping voices die down into a rippling murmur, and Amineh returns her attention to the couple-to-be. The Nabi was serene and serious before; now she is stern, even fearsome in her own way, as ink-black eyes focus unwaveringly on Ranjeet. "It is your duty," she intones, "to provide for and protect this woman, she who is so important to our people and so dear to our Amir-al. You shall father her children, and bar the path of all others who might find delight in her. You will bring fuel, drink, meat, grain and water to the house she keeps for you, and provide for all children she bears; and you shall serve Khalid Atar in heart, word, and deed in payment for this gift. Do you accept?"

Elidi's fingers lightly stroke up and down Cassius' back in a comforting manner behind the curve of her embracing wing. Oh, how sweet to see such affection. The woman's manner is casual and she keeps her attention upon the ceremony... or so it seems.

Altair continues to watch the ceremony, Cassius' fidgeting diverting more and more of his attention away from the couple. Thus it is no wonder that his expression is an annoyed one to someone whom professes such great manners -- on normal occasions. Taking a deep breath, he looks back to the proceedings, the flame lit, his head tilting slightly to one side in curiosity.

Whatever Woodchuck says to Faanshi, it's something that seems to catch and pierce her somehow, for it draws her attention sharply away from the grand gathering observed by the reverent crowd and brings her leaf-green gaze round to the Sylvan fully for the first time. A sharp wistfulness springs up in those eyes of hers, and after a moment, evidently overcome, she softly bobs her head.

Rihana holds her breath. Of course Ranjeet will accept. It's obvious to see that he will. This wouldn't be happening if he wouldn't accept, would it? But the girl still can't help but hold her breath in suspenseful anticipation.

Suddenly, Cepheus' attentive gaze shatters like a plate-glass window, the large Empyrean's eyes dropping toward the muttering and squirming Cassius. At first curiosity filters slowly into his gaze, his nose crinkling slightly. Clearly, the Oracle heard something out of the man, the slight scowl disappearing as he looks back to the fire ablaze. Maybe a single thought drifts through Cepheus' mind, perhaps Cassius' time with the Varati long ago ruined his manners. Still, he seems to try to concentrate.

A table close by has been provided for the brazier once the kindling is ablaze, lest the bride burn her fingers by gripping the heated metal, and as Amineh makes her speech for Ranjeet's promises, Shahar places the bowl upon this small table, the flames continuing to glow cheerfully, containing all the promise of the future, within the decorative vessel.

Aurora continues to sit quietly, hands and wings both neatly folded. If she is aware of the whispers and fidgeting of the guests, she gives no indication. The whole of her attention is focused upon the ceremony, and nothing can be read of her expression beyond that faint, unwavering smile.

Listening soberly and seriously to Amineh's words and commands, Ranjeet dips his head in assent at the end, his gaze lifting to rest upon the palm pendant upon Shahar's breast ... the same which he wears himself. He has already pledged himself to her in private, of which they now each bear a talisman. Now he will do it in public, for his people, for his God-King, and for any who might question his worthiness or commitment. "I, Ranjeet al'Samar Khalida, do take Shahar al-Jehan and will abide by all my duties due her and my people. I accept these duties with honor and pleasure."

Rabi surreptitiously touches her fingers to the silk that rides just below her eyes. Ah, another use for veils: the silk thirstily drinks away her tears.

Ink-black eyes move to Shahar next, as the Nabi appraises her. The fearsome, unnerving stare gentles somewhat, returning to its previous serene intensity. "And it is your task, Shahar al-Jehan Khalida, to wed this man, to bear his children and care for his house and household; to strive to anticipate and fulfill his desires and in all possible ways serve and honor him, he who is so important to our people and our Amir-al. Will you agree?"

Woodchuck looks to Faanshi with obvious confusion. He was expecting more of an answer then a mere bob of the head. He glances towards the crowd again, and at so many teary-eyes. Is the room dusty? The Sylve sticks his tongue out a bit, but doesn't taste any dust on the air... hrm. Perhaps the little one can't comprehend why people would get emotional at a wedding. Maybe he doesn't even know that it's a wedding at all... he whispers back to the halfbreed, and gives her a wink.

Elidi's mouth curves and she shakes her head a little, silently murmuring something to her husband.

Rihana thinks this is the interesting part, for the Varati quarter has been abuzz with rumors about the Pasha since she first arrived here with her family. How she holds a man's position and powers, how she is brazen and bold and strong. How she was placed there by the God-King himself. So she is "so important to our people" as well; Rihana wonders whether such a vow would conflict with the Pasha's extant duties? It's hard enough to comprehend of a woman leading an entire province of Varati as it is -- only in legend is it known. So here stands a legend and it is another reason for the girl from the north to think she's dreaming of a wedding of angelic messengers.

Shahar has heard words such as these before, has heard promises from another and given, in turn her own oath. That this is her second wedding, a rarity with Varati women, does not detract from the sincerity with which she prepares her own response. While Amineh speaks, Shahar listens with unbroached intensity, unblinking and focused, but at the conclusion of that query, her body and eyes turn toward Ranjeet. "I, Shahar al-Jehan Khalida, shall with all my heart and the blessings of strength from the Amir-al, be a true and faithful wife, shall serve and honor my husband, and shall ensure his every desire and need is met."

Eyes front and center, focused on the ceremony, do not blink. Riva's placid composure remains unshaken despite the ripples of strong emotions spreading all around her, near buffeting her at times. Such strong feelings even if under rigid control behind displays of calm or indifference or expressed as overt joy pull and push at the woman. No wonder gatherings are difficult for some Atlanteans. One wrist turns and the fingers splay, golden webbing spreading fan-like and arching to absently shoo away a small but cluster of gnats attracted to the floral displays.

She has never been one for overt displays of emotion, but still the beautiful words can bring a crinkle to the face of Mekhti as a small smile creeps onto her face. It is, however, quite hidden by her veil. She still works to memorize everything she can, the expressions upon the face of the bride and groom, every move of the Amir-al. From her vantage point, the words are somewhat hard to hear when not spoken very loudly and very clearly, especially with a few of the shudra in the small crowd whispering about and pointing at the candala who disturbs the God-King himself.

Cassius is no longer fidgeting. Apparently the solemnity of the ceremony has affected him. He's staring fixedly at the couple and the divine, black-winged being nearby, his eyes a little wider than usual, his face a little paler. He moves not so much as a muscle. His wings don't make a whisper of sound. He's completely and utterly still, and only those peering closely might notice the droplets of sweat beading his upper lip and brow.

The Nabi turns, holding her hands cupped over the brazier for a moment, absorbing the warmth it sheds, then calls out to those gathered in a surprisingly strong voice, "Then, in the name and sight of Khalid Atar, the Divine Flame by whose grace we live, I proclaim Shahar al-Jehan Khalida wife to Ranjeet al'Samar Khalida!" She looks between the two, and for a moment -- the briefest of moments -- a smile flickers at the edges of her mouth. She turns to the table and retrieves the long reed match, carefully lighting the tip. She waits to make sure the fire has soundly caught, then smoothly kneels and touches the flame to the circle of tallowed, colored rice. It ignites hesitantly at first, then gains momentum and rapidly spreads around the bride and groom to encircle them in bright, rippling flames. Amineh straightens, and intones: "So as the Amir-al's flames surround them, so, we pray, does His guidance and protection encircle them in reward to their service to Him."

It is rather amazing how easily it can be determined when Faanshi blushes -- even when her face is half-concealed by silken, gauzy blue. Woodchuck's next whispered words cause the halfbreed shudra maiden to go rigid where she sits, her hands shooting up to her veiled mouth as if to hold in yet a third gasp that threatens to erupt from her. Blushing so brightly that the color creeps up into what portion of her face is visible, she shakes her head, wide-eyed and stricken mute. Barely in time, just barely in time, she catches the declaration of the priestess that names the bride and groom as officially wedded, and presses her hands even more firmly against her mouth. She must be silent!

They are married. They are joined together. Shahar hears the words, her heart supplanting all other sounds in a rush of blood to her ears. Finally the dam breaks, the stony blocks against demonstrations of emotion ruptured and overrun by cascades of the sorts of feelings a bride has for her husband on a wedding day, and shining eyes are raised toward the groom. Her husband. Thank the Amir-al.

"Ahhhhh!" Rihana isn't alone when she lets out a sigh at the sight of the circle of flames. No Varati could help but be affected by such as this: it is an expression of the soul of the people, flickering and dancing and alive to sanctify this proper union. The onlookers about her gasp, and Yasmeen lets out a wistful little sigh of her own. She leans over to Rihana and murmurs something. "Will...rice...fire...wedding?" Rihana shrugs and murmurs back, "...don't know. Hope so." Even her brothers -- hard-bitten, professional, fearless proud warriors that they are -- are impressed.

Rabi catches herself beginning to bounce on the balls of her feet and stops herself, grinning from ear to ear. The tears flow freely now, framing her eyes with shimmering silver, but she doesn't even notice them.

Elidi glances toward the flames, slightly smiling, but then the hand at Cassius back twitches a little and she seems to flinch. For just an instant, her smile falters...

It is perhaps not strictly formal, or perhaps more customary out in the eastern vara's where the Varati tend to run a little more along the hot side of the blood-line. Stepping forward, Ranjeet lifts his hand to Shahar's cheek .... to her unscarred cheek, which only the other day bore the mark of violence, of her previous marriage. She is indeed a new bride, coming to him fresh and unblemished. His lips curl in a lush smile, all shadows of the past banished at this moment, his gaze offering her the full forgiveness that she has been perhaps waiting for. His arms the wrap about her boldly, his head dipping to kiss her ... deeply and soundly as is his right as her husband ... even if it is a scandalous kiss to display in public. After all, it is Holi, is it not??

Ajii'mah is all but eating the corner of her sari in an attempt to stave the little sobs that wrack her frame.

Amineh watches the newlyweds, and smiles. Yes, the Nabi is capable of smiling -- and in the presence of candala, at that. She then begins to chant one of the well-known Varati blessing prayers in a slow, even cadence so that all have the chance to join in. "Blessed is the Most High, who leads us. Blessed is the Most High, who guides us. Blessed is the Most High, who rules with the just hand of His father, and with the wisdom and grace of His mother. Blessed are the chosen, who lift our voices to our Lord and King, Khalid Atar. May our life be in His service, may our deeds please Him, may we never fail Him, until the end of time."

Niamh can't help a small chuckle as Ranjeet embraces his newlywed wife...any other time, the public display would have been frowned upon by him... but for some reason he can't today. As the Nabi begins the chant, he joins in softly.

Despite the scholarly detachment that Oriane had been observing the marriage with, the ending and interaction between Ranjeet and Shahar causes the darkling girl to catch her breath and hold it behind her lips. Varati they may be, but love is still the same whether wielding fire or wind. At least in her mind this is so.

Altair watches the wedding with a smile, brightening a little to an almost grin as he sees that kiss. It's obviously one of those weddings that was truly meant to be. And truly meant to be enjoyed, now that Cassius has stopped his incessant fidgeting.

Rihana feels her cheeks go red-hot as she watches that kiss. Oh yes, scandalous indeed, and she'll be disappointed when it stops. What a wondrous -- oh! "Blessed is the Most High, who leads us," she picks up the refrain, reciting it with all her heart and soul. "Blessed is the Most High, who rules with the just hand of his father..."

Like Niamh and the other Varati present, years of proper (if poor) upbringing spur Ajii'mah into melding words into the chant the Nabi has started.

Cassius' impressive stillness is broken by a flinch -- strangely, just at the instant that the union between bride and groom is sealed with a kiss. His pale eyes go wider still, taking in the sight for a mere heartbeat's length before shifting immediately to his wife. Tilting his head closer to her, he whispers something few others could hear.

Woodchuck blinks to Faanshi's odd behavior, and whispers a bit louder this time. "But I thought you two were..." he trails off into silence, glancing around at all the weepy people. More dust? Or is someone cutting up onions in the crowds? Probably goblins, those nasty little tricksters, always doing things like that...

Holi it is, a time where Varati show their joy without the usual social stigmas associated with such a thing, and Shahar envelops her handsome husband with both arms, returning the kiss wholeheartedly. "No more scars, Ranjeet," she murmurs once the embrace is through. "The wedding has erased the scars from Kiral... I am yours now. I am yours now." She smiles radiantly, a rare demonstration of such delight in public, before she joins in the prayers.

A few of the shudra crowd join in as well. At first they are fairly quiet, but as the numbers of those who repeat the prayer grow, so does the sound of their voices as they speak as one. Mekhti, even at the fringes, joins in as well, though her individual voice is lost when it joins that of many. "Blessed is the Most High, who rules with the just hand of his Father..."

Lips move under silk. Silently, Rabi recites the prayers. But surely He can hear her soul, and her soul sings a chorus to rival the stars, in counterpoint to the silver stars running down her cheeks.

Khalid seems pleased by this wedding, a smile residing small and knowing on his lips. His arms are still folded, and he has yet to move, but at least he seems happy with the Pasha's new status as a married woman.

Elidi shakes her head slowly in response to Cassius, gladly turning her gaze away from the kissing couple. Her gaze to him is reluctant and she shakes her head again to him.

Cepheus, on the other hand, look like his brain is residing somewhere around Civitas Dei. He manages, eventually, though to snap out of it. Apparently, just in time for things to be over.

"No, Imphadi Woodchuck," Faanshi mumbles, barely audible over the respectful praises breathed by the crowd around her.

Niamh continues chanting, his eyes searching for the Nabi now. He really should speak with her... but now is not the time.

Ranjeet smiles down at his wife ... his wife! It is a gaze filled with tenderness and pleasure, his arms wrapping about her in a loving embrace, his mouth brushing her ear, murmuring something to her ... most likely the prayer that now fills the air of Atesh-Gah with hope and faith.

The chanting continues for some time, becoming a hypnotic, many-layered thing, until the loop of fire is extinguished. The Nabi raises her hands, then lowers them to indicate the end of the prayer, then intones: "Blessings of Khalid Atar upon you, Ranjeet, husband of Shahar, and upon you, Shahar, wife of Ranjeet. Blessings upon your families and your household. May your life together be fruitful and filled with joy." To the crowd: "Blessings upon you, as well, for bearing witness to this sacred rite of unity and family. Go now and know that the Divine Flame's light is upon you, watching that you make a life of honor and service in His eyes." Amineh's speaking to the Varati gathering, in that last bit. Hopefully.

"What??" This strangled query comes from Cassius, meant to be a whisper, yet unintentionally loud enough to carry beyond his wife's ears. He abandons his pretense of watching the ceremony, swiveling instead and grasping Elidi by the upper arm again. Hushed and urgent, he mutters to her, low enough now not to interfere with the closing events of the wedding.

The Nabi's speaking to Rihana, at least, and to her brothers as well, for they're a superstitious lot. Rihana, though a distant observer here, still feels as if somehow she's been singled out: she makes the silent promise to do her very best at whatever she finds herself doing, to bring grace to the God-King and through Him, to the Varati as a whole. Everything enters her eyes, everything: the decorations, the clothing, the fire, the architecture that frames it all, and it seems to her as if it is all a culmination of the race's achievements throughout the ages. She is bound and determined to see those achievements continue.

Rabi glances towards the outburst. Her eyes narrow slightly and then she looks a touch guilty. She tears her attention back to where it belongs, watching Ranjeet and Shahar, and her joy at the sight soon washes away anything she might feel about Cassius.

Shahar seems dazzled, and whatever Ranjeet conveyed to her in whispers suffuses her with a bliss the likes of which would never be seen outside of Holi, save once on the bluest of moons. A smile splits her features in twain, and she wraps her arms about Ranjeet and clings to him, her pleasure, her happiness, there for all of Haven to see. The Lioness of Khalida, fearsome creature by reputation, is a purring domesticated feline.

Elidi's face wears an odd expression as she looks to Cassius and slowly nods. Quietly, she urges him up and away from the crowd, her arm remaining about his waist. One hand is oddly clutched in the cloth of his chiton as his back.

With a rustling of fine fabrics and the whisking of booted feet on the flagstones and grass, the crowd eases up from stillness. Quiet conversations quickly start up, commenting on the ceremony, the amazing bride price, the future of the union and the newlyweds themselves.

Altair blinks as Deus Augustin blurts out over the quieting prayer, arching a brow at him, both annoyed and worried. Something's got to be bugging the man for him to be so loud at an event with such powerful mages as Atar attending. Now he glances to the Varati God-King, just for a second, to make sure Cassius isn't toast or something.

Yasmeen turns to Rihana. Within the protective circle of their clan's men, the two women add their whispers to the growing buzz of soft conversation.

Ajii'mah stands, quickly flipping her sari to the other side and wrapping it about her torso and left shoulder. The small charms on her brow that she worn for this occasion make tiny clinking noises that are lost in the crowd. Scanning the crowd as if hoping to catch a familiar face, her gaze rests on a rather interesting, contrasted man.

Lais and the other five brothers, along with their wives and children, invite the guests to dine, to drink, to revel in the unique joy that is this occasion. The ceremony is formally at an end; the celebration, however, shall long continue.

Rabi grins and hugs herself with the effort not to leap forward and break up the newlyweds by hugging them in front of the God-King Himself. Now she bounces.

Seeing that the Varati themselves are beginning to mingle and the ceremony must be done, Oriane gives herself a little shake and leaves her reverie behind to stand. Black wings that are reminiscent of the God-King's flare slightly in an unconscious stretch then resettle against her back. Taking a deep breath, she glances around for any familiar faces.

The shout is lost upon Ranjeet, his eyes and ears bent to Shahar alone in this moment, but as the Varati people cry out in joy, ululations filling the air with delight and congratulations, Ranjeet's cheeks redden slightly, taking Shahar's arm and stepping toward the edge of the podium, presenting himself and his new wife for the inspection and approval of the Varati people. From the cries and applauding, it would seem that they are more than acceptable. What a way to end Holi! What a perfect most blessed time to be wed!

FIN  

[ Home | News | Staff | Players | Links | Gallery | Logs | Library | Updates | Mail ]
[ Connect to the Game ]