Date: March 25, 1999
Place: Throne Room, Entrance Atrium - Ushas-Gah - Masada
Cast: Alaia, Altair, Anemone, Callidora, Chana-Cari, Drusus, Elania, Faanshi, Hidenouri, Ilex, Kaia, Kala, Khalid (I/III), Leonidas, Maat, Medea, Niamh, Oriane, Rabi, Ranjeet, Riana, Shahar, Shinjukou, Siranae, StormBearer, Sunil, Tahira, Thalia (I), Vayu, Yoritomo, Zuhayr
Emits: Callidora (Altair), Faisal (Rabi), Khadisha (Alaia?)
Scene: The reception after the marriage of Khalid Atar and Thalia Tritonides features feasting, dancing, conversation, and a dazzling fire-show created by the God-King's Atarvani.

Throne Room - Ushas-Gah - Masada:
      Gleaming obsidian forms the walls, floor and ceiling in homage to the darkness of the God-King. Reminiscent, though a poor imitation, of the black stone that forms the swords of the Divine Flame of Heaven, the obsidian reflects back the light, rather than absorbing it. Veins of gold unnaturally marble the obsidian walls in abstract designs, an effect never seen in nature. Long contemplation of the walls tricks viewers into seeing shapes and patterns in the fine lines of gold, patterns which seem to shift, change, and move even as they are identified. Diamonds sparkle from the ceiling, twinkling like stars; constellations portending future and past are not hard to imagine. Despite being under the earth, the entire room seems to be among the heavens.
      Dominating the room's fore are a dual set of thrones on a raised dais, the seats of the God-King and his Queen. Upholstered in black satin shot with gold thread like flames, both thrones are formed of the same obsidian as the room; rather than gold, the God-King's is punctured by indicolite and lapis lazuli, the Queen's is striated with red gold and rose quartz. At the apex of each throne is a large gem, sapphire for the God-King and a ruby for his Queen, making them seem like a pair of binary stars.
      Extending from the dais in parallel along the sides of the room are ebony chairs, similarly upholstered as the cushions of the thrones. A clear space has been left in front of the dais, large enough for a performing troupe. An archway breaks the wall on the east, the shrine of Vinita beyond it. Huge double doors that may require more than one man to move stand open between the throne room and the entrance foyer.

Emerging from the shrine, Oriane walks with her sister's fingers still entwined with hers. Carefully, she moves towards the dais with a hesitancy in her expression and in the agitated flutter of her wings. Though she looks as if she is trying to get to her mother's side, she does not force her way through the crowd.

The multitude of servants leave their floor-hugging positions as Khalid and Thalia ascend the dais. Moving to the sides of the rooms, silver and gold platters are appear, as if by magic. Faanshi is handed a platter loaded with small, scrumptious rolls with meat in their center and a bowl of yellow sauce. As guests appear, chairs are offered and servants begin to circulate about the room with their gustatory delights.

Presented with her platter, Faanshi thusly points herself towards the outpouring of nobles and notables, keeping her shy green gaze just high enough to keep from bumping into anyone, and looking for whoever is nearest her to make her first offer of sustenance.

Callidora guides Altair over to the row of chairs on Queen Thalia's side, white wings tight behind her back as she walks slowly.

Unlike her more demure sister, Riana plunges ahead, using the spread of her wings to advantage in her eagerness to get closer to her mother. The movements are far from rude, but she's definitely, insistently headed in the direction of the dais. Every few steps she lifts up on tiptoes to try to spot the royal pair.

A scribe's kit, paper and inks and pens are all carefully laid out upon an elegant reed mat, to the side and well behind the Khalid's throne. Rabi moves forward and lowers herself, bowing once again with forehead against the cool stone, before shifting off to her place by that kit, silent like a shadow racing from the flickering of a torch.

Slowly ascending the dais, with the Queen on his arm, Khalid guides Thalia into her throne before seating himself. Ebon wings close against his back, before he leans against the soft, comforting pillows of his seat. One hand rests in his lap, while the other resides on the armrest of the obsidian throne. Clearing his throat, he calls out, "Shakir Maat of Clan Al'Samar will be handling the performance. Please feel free to sit or mingle as you wish. Rabi, Royal Scribe, will be acknowledge those who wish to present themselves to the throne or petition the throne in some fashion. Please await her cue before approaching the dais."

Before she led her sister, but now she is the one who follows. Letting Riana guide their way towards the dais, Oriane is careful to keep her black wings to her back and her eyes on the assembled peoples.

StormBearer strides from without the shrine, Hidenouri close behind as he moves towards the chairs near the Atrium. He sits fluidly, still observing the occasion with objective eyes, but those same eyes are filled with green fire.

Maat moves forth through the crowd, seeking the pair that will be providing the actual entertainment. As she moves, she makes sure that the space before the dais is left empty and that guests do not scoot their chairs in too close. She beckons toward Kala and Kaia when she spots them.

Altair smiles a little amusedly, lovingly, to Callidora, letting her lead him to the table. Whether he's noble or not, she's surely got him one-upped at least on the niceties of high society.

Flanked by her quartet of guards, Shahar walks toward the dais and the place she has often occupied in courts of old. Eyes upon Rabi, the Shakir kneels, then, lowering her gaze, prostrates herself before the thrones and respectfully murmurs her desire to speak.

Rabi's eyes widen slightly, but only for a moment. She swallows and picks up a pen. Yes, this will do. Like the staff used by the seneschal, yes? She gestures towards Shahar, feeling oddly foolish.

Zuhayr makes his way through the crowd of people to murmur a few words toward the stony-visaged Nayaka of the Agni-Haidar. He then bows, and turns to slip out of the throne room for a moment.

Niamh enters from the red-lit darkness of Vinita's shrine and sits down among the chairs near the shrine.

Not nearly brave enough to go anywhere near the dais though she's bowed as best she can with a platter in her hands upon the entrance of the Khalid and his Queen, Faanshi slips towards the chairs near the atrium. The Sylvan, the one with the crow on his shoulder, gives her a slight distraction and an excuse to focus her attention; it is StormBearer, thus, whom she first approaches. Her blue-saried head bobs; her slim frame bows, platter in her hands uplifted, and she can be heard to murmur demurely, "Do you wish food for yourself or your bird, imphadi?"

Hidenouri slowly makes her way through the crowd, observing all the lush colors with obvious pleasure. She stands near StormBearer and Ilex, to get a better view of the performance -- hoping it's dance.

Anemone sticks close to Oriane and Riana, as she should be, and now and again she throws a smile up toward Thalia. She is purposefully cheery... but rarely is she otherwise, anyway.

Chana-Cari lowers herself into a chair near the shrine, eyes following as much of the activity as possible.

On the dais, Shahar lowers herself again once she is this close to the thrones of the God-King and his chosen Queen, forehead brushing the cool stone of the floor. She shall speak not a syllable before permission is issued to do so.

Niamh moves from the shrine into the room, taking a seat by Chana-Cari, pensive and quiet as usual. His attentions are divided between inner thoughts and the activity about him.

Most seem uncertain as to the present status of Thalia's two daughters, and thus a path clears before them with relative ease. Best to lean in the direction of manners when one is uncertain, yes? Khalid's words hit Riana at the same moment she comes to the empty space before the thrones, and cause her to skitter to a halt. Wait and ask permission to approach Mummy? Well, uhm... as Shahar has beaten them to the spot, she pauses with head tilted to one side, trying to catch the eye of Rabi in a not-quite subtle fashion.

On the dais, Rabi dips her pen in ink and prepares to transcribe those words spoken here.

Thalia shifts upon the throne. Her throne. It is something she will have to get used to. For now, she feels like a child sitting at her father's desk or some such similar situation. Finally settling herself, she glances to Khalid a moment before sweeping her eyes out over the people milling about. Searching. Before she can pick her daughters out of the crowd -- dark wings, which were so easy to spot in Empyreal society, now just blend in with the wave of colors here -- distraction comes at the sound of her husband's voice. She looks to him again, then to Rabi, and finally drifts her gaze to Shahar.

Rabi sees Riana's barely-restrained attempts to gain her attention and looks up. She nods and holds up a finger, as if to say 'one moment.' Then pen, in her other hand, she dips into the ink set out for her, ready to transcribe.

On the dais, Khalid inclines his chin towards Shahar with a faint smile. "My Shakir. I am glad to see you are first to visit us. Rise, please." His voice is smooth, soft, and perhaps touched with joy not seen in him often. This may indeed be a political marriage, but it is not one he dislikes by any means.

StormBearer's voice replies quickly to the serving girls request. "No thank you, I'm not hungry, though I'm sure he would." Food offered to the bird is quickly received and gobbled, with little or no mess.

Callidora smiles warmly back at the Delphic-robed woman. "A pleasure to meet you too..." She looks to Altair to introduce them.

Two young men, both dressed in red, blue and gold, approach the throne. One bears a tray with four glasses, two of red wine and two of white wine. The other young man bears a tray with a sampling of hors d'oeuvres: small stuffed eggs, sculpted puffs with surprises inside, rolls similar to the ones on Faanshi's tray, crackers with curlicued mounds of cheese. The wine is offered up while the tray with the food is arranged so that their majesties might enjoy it without being constantly accosted by servants.

Slipping on over to speak quietly with one of the naraki, Tahira nods softly and bows her head. She turns to move on into the room, heading towards the dais. Selecting one of the seats upon the king's side, she turns to face him before delivering a respectful bow.

The shudra girl with green eyes steals a peek at the crow, and then shyly bobs her head to the man upon whose shoulder the creature resides. After a morsel or two is consumed by the avian, Faanshi then turns her attention to Hidenouri and Ilex nearby, repeating her offer in those soft tones of hers.

At Riana's side as they approach the throne, Oriane steps closer to her golden twin. Such opposites -- black wings versus white ones, short dark hair versus curled golden locks... But for all that, there is a similarity between the girls. The darkling half looks past her sister and towards Rabi, a flicker of curiosity in dark eyes as she waits permission.

On the dais, Shahar rises in a show of untutored fluidity -- perhaps she may sometime show the Queen and her family whatever trick is required for such ease in a sari? -- and abandons her facade of impassivity to show unbridled pleasure at what she sees before her. "My most beloved Amir-al, I thank you," she begins softly before turning toward Thalia, affection and adoration untainted toward her. "To you, Imphada, Queen of our people, I give you the greetings of your Clan, Khalida, and the welcome of countless hearts who now call you akraba. Kinswoman. And to you I pledge myself as Shakir of Khalida and as akraba, now and forever... should you have need of me, I am yours as much as I am my God-King's to command. I praise you with all of my heart and bid you welcome. Your radiance shall live eternally." And she bows once more, overcome and again silent.

Hidenouri smiles softly at Faanshi and nods, "I would like to try something, yes." She takes two of the puffed hors d'oeuvres, hoping it is something she is able to consume. "Thank you."

Rabi's pen works across the paper, fluidly capturing words and translating them into elegant immortality.

Late, late, late! Must Vayu always be late? With Elania at his heels, he steps quickly into the throne room and takes a seat at the nearest possible location -- which, in this case, happens to be on one of the many elegant chairs on Khalid's side of the room.

Anemone waits behind Riana and Oriane, tapping her foot before she catches herself. She had wanted the daughters to be -first-.

Through the throng of people approach a most unusual duo. Dark and light, each with their own unique grace and agility that brings the devastatingly beautiful duo before the God-King's and Queen's thrones. An Empyrean and Varati to greet their own. Slipping into grand curtsies, Kala and Kaia slip just as silently towards their small setup: a minute 'stage,' as it were, with a few musical instruments within the back, and a carpeted area forward.

On the dais, Khalid's smile grows larger with every word spoken by Shahar. It is a rare thing for the God-King to smile, but on this day, he shows no restraint. "You, lioness of Khalida, daughter of the Clan and my blood, do us a great honor this day. I thank you for your kind words and the heartfelt support you show us."

Rabi glances up as she finishes a sentence. She sees Oriane and nods. Again her free hand makes a simple 'one moment' gesture.

Returning from her errand, one of the naraki steps back into the throne room carrying a medium-sized object covered with a deep blue wrap. The servant quietly searches for someone. Upon catching sight of Tahira, she makes her way over with the gift and delivers it before bowing and returning once more to her work.

Whatever Shahar might be saying to Khalid, it does indeed seem to elicit a smile from the often taciturn God-King of the Varati.

Faanshi's own mouth is veiled, but her green gaze flicks briefly and more fully to Hidenouri at the tiny woman's smile and mannerly words. "You are welcome, imphada," she murmurs demurely, and as soon as the guest has taken what morsels she wishes, the shudra moves on to look for someone else to serve amongst those seated near the atrium.

Sunil slips in with the remainder of the crowd, unobtrusively finding a place near the rear of the chamber.

There's a sway to those silk clad hips of the dusky Varati performer. A rhythm soon followed by the near serpent-like movements of her arms, as they rise and fall, lift and lower on the sides of her body. Warming up a bit, those toffee-brown eyes all but shooting sparks of green fire. Never has she danced in front of quite so big and prominent a crowd. Kala glances over at her Empyreal counterpart, apparently waiting for her to go first. To begin the music, so she can dance. Get this beat out of her body.

On the dais, Thalia catches sight of her daughters, the small bit of tension present in her shoulders fading away. Okay, good. They're not hopelessly lost in the crowd. Her attention, then, moves quickly to Shahar and her expression breaks into a smile which extends beyond her lips, lighting her eyes and playing there in their depths. "Thank you, Imphada Shakir. Your words mean a great deal to me, more than I could possible express," she replies in a voice that is rich and warm in its affection. Today is a good day.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Almost imperceptibly, Riana lifts and then settles onto her heels. It would be rude just to rush up and smother Mummy with hugs and kisses, right? Right... Wonder what that lovely woman is saying up there. Oooh, wonder what the performers will do. Wonder what sort of food is being served. No, these are not merely her thoughts, but rather each is plainly writ upon the girl's face as she tilts her head to look about the room. Wait your turn, Ria. There's a good girl.

Elania is doing a remarkable job of playing me-and-my-shadow with Vayu, and settles gracefully as she can into the chair next to him. She tucks one leg up beneath herself and arranges her fringed shawl just so, then lets her eyes skitter over the throne room in a fresh wave of wide-eyed fascination. So many people, all arranged in such finery, and -- she pauses, chin tipping up, as she silently sniffs the air. Food. She sniffs again. Fruit? Peaches? No such luck. She settles back a bit, mildly disappointed that peaches aren't considered a delicacy in Masada. Vayu says something, and she looks back to him, nodding rapidly as she chatter-whispers.

A sluggish, erotic thrumming echoes from the stretched skins of tubal drums, dainty hands plucking an odd sort of rhythm that quickens the heart just a pace or more. Snow fluffs grandly behind her, Kaia's feathers shivering to create a most unusual accompaniment: breeze. Nature methodically mimicked at its finest, as a husky, throaty hum begins to rumble through the petite Empyreal performer.

A brief gesture from Maat and another one of those ubiquitous servants approached the two daughters of Thalia bearing a tray. Perhaps not the best choice for young girls, there would appear to be a selection of chocolates, from bon-bons to fluffy concoctions with decadent swirls.

On the dais, Shahar cannot hide a smile at this day: the radiance of Khalid's pleasure, the delight of his handsome words and amity toward her thrills her with the tremulous rapture of the most devout of followers. She bows deeply to Thalia in reaction to her happily-received gratitude, then murmurs, "Many and countless are those who would greet you on this most splendid of days, and I shall take no more of your time but thank you and remain close henceforth, should I be required." She again falls to her knees and leans forward to touch her lips to the toe of Thalia's shoe, then to kiss most reverently the tip of Khalid's foot. A tear trickles forth to bathe the God-King's boot with evidence of the Shakir's devoutness, then she backs away from the couple to take her leave.

Hidenouri takes a small bite, smiling as the savory flavors fill her mouth.

While waiting a little more patiently than her sister, at least on the surface, Oriane lets her dark eyes wander the crowd. The white-robed Varati causes a faint flicker of guilt to cross over her pale features. Fingers squeeze Riana's as she reminds herself she owes Vayu an apology. The Sylvan next to him also gets a lingering look. Elania... she remembers the name. Seeing a collection of Atlanteans, the darkling furrows her brow faintly. She seems to remember meeting one of them... oh yes... Shinjukou. Still, her eyes continue to wander the room. The dancers give her pause as her head tilts and she regards Kaia with a blink of surprise. Another face she recalls. Considering quietly, she looks to the other side of the room. Drusus.

Shahar apparently has said her piece and kneels before the thrones to kiss the foot of the Queen, then the toe of the God-King, and before she withdraws, the evidence of high emotion is again painted in tearstreaks on her cheeks. The smile she wears ensures that any nearby may know she is, however, immensely happy.

As the performers begin, Faanshi strives to be even more unobtrusive. She slips round towards Sunil, presenting her platter for his inspection. "Do you desire food, imphadi?" is her softly whispered greeting.

Rabi smiles and pauses in her writing. The pen sweeps slightly as the scribe gestures towards the Queen's two daughters.

On the dais, Khalid watches Shahar with full, large blue eyes. Like a father so pleased with a perfect daughter, he gazes upon the Shakir of his Clan. With quiet words, he speaks, "Your loyalty, strength, intelligence and courage is like that of my own brother, Jamil. He would be proud to know that you are of his blood." Chuckling softly, he prompts, "Now go and enjoy yourself with the festivities, Shahar."

Anemone shadows the daughters to greet the Queen too... a swift glance at the mute scribe (nice lady with the pretty handwriting) makes certain that her company is approved.

Let the show begin. Kala's head is thrown back for a moment, her spine straightening and then arching as if she has been touched by a white-hot iron rod, whilst the rest of her body is frozen in immobility. And then... those hips pick up the rhythm first, swaying, shivering this way and that. The stomach follows, then the chest, her thighs, calves, feet, her arms dark serpents around her body. Dancing to the Empyrean's music and voice. Already beginning to sweat a bit from the close proximity of the people, her previous tension, and the still-not-relaxed state of her nerves. But that will come. Let the music continue, pick up the pace... And she will disappear into the motion. Green silk clings to dusky skin before being loosened once more from the shiftings of her body.

Oooooh, chocolate! Perhaps waiting isn't so bad... Fingers lift and reach toward the tray, and then a nudge, or perhaps a gentle wingsweep from Oriane reminds Riana of their purpose, and pale blue eyes drift over toward Rabi. Oh! Our turn? Only the slightest bit of regret traces her brow before the girl turns and mounts the dais with an eager step and a brilliantly wide smile.

Words are exchanged between Khalid and Shahar and it is obvious that the God-King of the Varati is quite pleased with whatever transpires on the dais. Quietly, he watches his Shakir step down.

Pulling her eyes away from places she should not be looking, Oriane blinks at the tray of chocolates. With a tiny shake of her head and a polite smile, she murmurs a thank you but no. Seeing the gesture of Rabi's pen, Oriane follows her more exuberant and eager sister.

StormBearer continues to scan the room, but then turns to Hidenouri and says something only she can hear. He then turns back and resumes his watch, grinning.

Indeed, whatever was last said to Shahar has bedazzled her; even the often expressionless Shakir is smiling with unrestrained pleasure. Enough euphoria to last months, likely...

Drusus is a spot of drab darkness framed within the gold-red splendor of the Praetorian honor guard. He -- and they -- watch the reception. Drusus' expression is faintly thoughtful.

Rabi dips her head in greeting and then her pen in writing, finishing up the statements from before, her hand moving in measured and unhurried strokes across her paper.

Thriving rhythms begin to seize the expensive drums as Kaia's lips part, and one pure note is held, quivering within the sweltering air.... So perfectly attuned to Kala's movements, is Kaia's offering of music, the buzzing of her own broad sails compacted with extensive energies creating a bead of perspiration to draw upon her brow. Undulate and move, such a primal tune is meant for inspiration. The beating of two hearts to find one glorious unison.

Hidenouri glances at StormBearer and smiles warmly to him. Her eyes quickly move back to the dance, taking note of the movements and steps. Indeed, her own feet follow along, hidden beneath her tunic.

On around, then, with her platter. Chana-Cari and Niamh are offered a share of the fare upon Faanshi's plate, while the shudra keeps her attention stoically away from the music. Music, too, this night, as if her head were not already stuffed past comfort with thoughts and fuel for her senses, even if she herself is not stuffed with any of the fine edibles she is assisting in handing out to the guests.

Several minutes are required to ground Shahar from the clouds upon which her fleeting visitation with the God-King and Queen placed her, and she idly searches for beverages, for a tidbit to eat. And for Drusus. Not necessarily in that order.

Niamh takes some of the food with a nod to Faanshi.

Chana-Cari looks up to Fannshi's tray. She picks a small piece of fruit. "Thank you." Quickly, she takes a bite.

On the dais, Anemone stands behind Oriane and Riana and does the servant watch-and-wait routine, but her eyes are roughly the size of saucers this close to Thalia's incomparable beauty... and Khalid's undeniable appeal and charisma.

A servant approaches the pale Jovian and Drusus holds up his hand, declining with a quiet murmur of thanks. He turns slightly and gestures to the guard, indicating that they are welcome to partake of these refreshments as they will; one accepts that offer and sips from a glass of wine.

Leonidas steps toward Drusus. Unobtrusively, mind you. He's drifting.

Altair and Callidora kiss tenderly a moment, as they sit and converse quietly with Medea.

Yeah. Oh, yeah, this is what she needs. What she craves. Mocha-colored skin is enriched with the Varati's perspiration, golden droplets to match the embroidery on her silken clothes. And she's gone. No more Kala, just the rhythm of the music, of that near-unison of their hearts. Their souls. Now she is beginning to pick out the turf of the dance, those small feet beating against the floor with her quick, near-running steps, red-adorned palms slapping against her swaying hips and flexing upper thighs. The bared midsection of the female seems to literally twist as her lower body turns one way and her upper the other, a hypnotic hurricane of music, naked skin and whispering, thin green silks.

Hidenouri leans over to StormBearer and speaks quietly as she gestures toward the performers, evidently asking whether he likes the dance.

On the dais, Thalia's fingers touch absently upon an exquisite necklace at her throat, but the most beautiful adornment she wears in this moment is her smile. Full and warm, it dominates her expression and lights her face entirely. She watches Shahar step down, sheltering her with an approving glance, before she shifts upon her throne. Her wings move behind her, seeming to have been brought to life after the stillness they held during the ceremony. As her daughters ascend the dais, she rises from where she sits and closes the distance between herself and them. Arms covered in delicate gold silk close around them, the Queen hugging each young woman in turn and pressing kisses to their cheeks. And what is that? A bit of silver lining her eyes? Tears.

Wide and overful; grin-possessed of feral intensity, the grey-grey stone-eyes of Vayu's objectivity peruse the two dancers; let them writhe, for such things are not unknown to him. Let them shake, twist, and halloo, for their movements have been seen before. Let them bring joy to the people, and lustful thoughts to the men -- for the hormonal flushings of males are not those for the Khalida diplomat. His eyes, in perusing the twain, encourage and record. 'How can I use this,' they inquire, 'Would that I could dance like that, and let no man refuse me!' Arms fold up over his chest, for while he is impressed -- as much shows on the lines of the eyes and lips -- it would not do for him to let anyone else know.

Shahar is not drifting; after she plucks a morsel from a tray, she pops it into her mouth and walks more directly toward the Praetor. Her encounter with Khalid and Thalia still sends effusive light from her eyes, but she has control entirely of herself as she nears Drusus and his croni... companions.

Having lingered within the crowd, head tilted and trailing lightly in a typically cool air, Yoritomo edges away from the crowd and slowly breaks away, shoes padding gently against the surface of the floor without making so much as a scuffing motion. He makes his way gently in the specific direction of the dais, eventually settling beside the general area of Vayu and more specifically Elania, one Orcinus Shinzou, to be proper now. His face is smooth and impassively, impeccably polite as he sinks into the chair.

On the dais, Khalid is perhaps a little more restrained than his wife. Still, out of respect for the daughters of his Queen, he, too, rises. "Riana. Oriane." The names are spoken gently and actually in a tone that seems friendly. He goes so far as to grace the twins with a smile.

Drusus watches Shahar approach, his eyes ever devoid of emotion. "Shakir." He bows.

StormBearer turns to Hidenouri a says some short comment followed by a sort of half-laugh, which doesn't seem quite right.

Anemone cannot help herself; a rapidly and efficiently produced cloth is applied as it can be to Thalia's moistened eyes. Ever the attendant, she. Oh, and she doesn't approach Khalid either.

Leonidas' approach is stalled, then. He contents himself with watching.

On the dais, Riana steps lightly up onto the dais, the bounce in her step carrying her forward. There's a pause when she gets there, however, as the full glory of the thrones and the costumes and all of it hits her. That is, until her mother rises. And then the fullness of her joy is set free once again, and she moves quickly into her mother's arms. Not quite satisfied with this, however, she soon breaks free from Thalia, and moves in the direction of her mother's new husband, clearly intent on wrapping him up in one of those jubilant greetings as well.

On the dais, Oriane's uncertain demeanor lifts slightly as Thalia rises and enfolds her and Riana each in a hug. Fingers that were scrubbed yet failed to be freed of ink stains rise and touch her mother's face before murmuring softly, "You're beautiful, Mama." Hesitancy returns as Oriane shifts her dark eyes towards Khalid, uncertainty reigning once more. Dipping into an awkward curtsey, she begins to murmur, "Amir-al..." But then stops as she gapes at her sister. Oh please don't implode her. She's harmless, really.

"Dominus," replies Shahar in a rippling tonality, returning the bow. "I trust you are enjoying yourself?"

An ancient shattering call, from mate to soulmate, splits the very fabric of sound with a searing caress. A cry for unity, a shivering cascade of notes that trickles lazily onwards as the quadruple drums begin to form as one beat. One aching, bursting heart. Pride is tucked demurely behind Kaia as the song's climax is overcome, only to dwindle with a pace to match that of any frumpy, obstinate turtle.

Niamh turns his attention back on the other food he took, the dancing, and the workings of his own mind.

On the dais, Anemone applies the kerchief across the dampened features of the other three Empyrean women: tears all around, it seems. A smile grows as she watches Riana and this test of Khalid's welcome to the family of Thalia... interesting, this.

On the dais, Khalid's eyes hood over as he watches Thalia with her daughters. However, as Riana rushes him, those blue eyes open wide and he coughs loudly. Glancing to the left and to the right, he sees no avenue of escape, so like the last soldier on a grim battlefield, he holds his position and awaits the inevitable.

Around, then, to the row of chairs upon the Queen's side of the room. Faanshi trades off her platter for a fresh one, this one stacked with small glasses of wine. The shudra approaches Altair and Callidora, murmuring, "Food for you, imphadi, imphada?"

Drusus' gaze flicks away from the Shakir towards the source of the keening sound. It shifts over to the stage, watching for three heartbeats with an intensity most complete. And then he looks back to the Shakir and bows his head, perhaps in greeting or perhaps in apology for allowing himself to be distracted. "It is a fascinating occasion, Shakir," says Drusus in his quiet baritone. "A nexus of history."

The feral nature of that grin which has lain upon Vayu's lips becomes doubly so now, and he even laughs aloud, clapping his hands once at the dancing cyprians. Sinking back to his chair with his hands overfolded lapward, his eyes reflect torchlight in the red spectrum. They blaze, burning like a fallow field at sunset, to consume all they observe in a haze of achingly detailed study. The eyes of the scientist, the mathematician, and the social engineer. Can he not cease being a diplomat for even one simple day? Perhaps not... after all, he does seem to enjoy his job.

Apparently chaos has just ensued upon the dais, for Riana is now rushing the God-King in what appears to be an attempted hug. Khalid, for his part, is putting on a brave show in the face of this deadly Empyrean and holds his ground... ready to be embraced.

A call that's not neglected, for behold. The Varati female freezes once more, before she bends. And bends. It's a quick movement, ending with her head and palms against the floor... Behind her heels. Then, giving a pause to perhaps let her muscles settle, the Varati goes over. Feet go up into the air quickly, keeping her decency in check as they clasp her clothing between them, at the most giving a brief peek at her ankles. Then, the soles of her boots touch the ground in front of her face, and she straightens up again. Flushed, panting, sweating... And moving to replace Kaia. A quick whisper from the dusky to the pale as she goes, still slapping those palms against her hips.

On the dais, Thalia whispers something to Oriane, holding the girl in her arms after giving Riana her hug and kiss. Pulling back enough to peer into her darkling daughter's face, she smiles but, then, tilts her head as she notes the surprised blink. Loosening her hold on Oriane, she shifts to see ... Khalid. Cornered. An odd expression catches hold of her face, the woman unsure if she should laugh or gasp in horror. After a moment, deciding that she doesn't want to see her pale daughter skewered by the Agni-Haidar, she calls to her softly, "Ria..."

Altair looks to Faanshi, smiling warmly but shaking his head. "No thank you, Imphada." He then turns to look to Callidora a moment. "Would you like something, my love?"

Likewise briefly distracted by what transpires before Khalid and Thalia, Shahar hurriedly resumes her regard of the inscrutable creature before her. "I could not have better stated it, Dominus," she compliments with a slight bow, "and perhaps we..." What is Riana doing? "Your pardon. Perhaps we could, before you depart the citadel, speak of matters at present and matters to come?"

Well, it's not quite naked dancing around a bonfire, but it's pretty close. Elania's attention settles on the paired dancers, eyes darting away only to the copper cup she drinks from and Vayu. This dancing, this loss of self to the music... this, she can understand. Her attention can be a rather keen thing, even in casual times -- right now, it is riveted. "Pretty," she murmurs to herself, sing-song and happy. Another quick glance aside, this one to Yoritomo, who is greeted with a cheery, "Hello-to-you."

Callidora looks up from Altair's gift to her as the shudra approaches. Callidora nods at the offering of food and slowly takes a couple hors d'oeuvres from the selection on the tray. "Thank you, Imphada."

On the dais, Oriane actually does not let go of her mother as she continues to blink at Riana. Ink-blessed fingers stay entwined in the fabric of Thalia's magnificent gown before taking in a breath and holding it. Oh dear.

Poised forward, hovering over his lap as he leans in the chair he happens to be squarely planted in, Yoritomo's webbed hands meticulously tilt together, the thumbs resting one upon the other, letting a turquoise gaze peer towards the festivities. They do hover over the dancing girls in an alert fashion, but hardly credit them as a sole draw of attention before drifting towards the fox-girl nearby. A break in his cool demeanor is noted as his lips part in a symmetrical smile, showing just the proper amount of teeth to Elania to convey a friendly air. "And to you as well, Shinzou."

"I am only Faanshi," comes the whisper from the green-eyed girl in red and blue and gold. "But thank you." Swiftly and softly, then, the halfbreed ducks her gaze, bobbing her head politely and moving on to find someone else to proffer food and drink.

On the dais, Anemone hastily assures Thalia, "I am certain it will be fine," as she takes a step closer to Riana and spends a few heartbeats looking at those dreadful bruisers, the Agni-Haidar. Steeling herself, she stands resolute, like a reed in a hurricane, between Riana and anyone who might bother the girl.

Yes indeed, Thalia's golden daughter does the unthinkable. In a brief flutter of white feathers and swirling cloth, she presses a hug upon the uncertainly-braced God-King, whispers a few words for his ears alone, then steps back to her mother's side. If a stir is caused because of her actions, she takes no note, only shows pleasure over his response.

On the dais, Rabi's pen hesitates as she watches. A smile cannot be suppressed beneath her veil. Oh, so surreal, that she should see something she has witnessed before. In her own family. Faisal and Drisana. She is profoundly touched.

On the dais, Khalid actually allows himself to be hugged. He is indeed surprised by the entire affair, but returns the hug to the notorious mistress of ribbons with a slight squeeze of his arms. Words are whispered between the two, before the God-King releases Riana to her own devices.

When the Agni-Haidar do not descend from the ceiling and arise from the floor to slice her sister into a thousand pieces for daring to hug the god-king, Oriane finally remembers to breathe. No blood, no fire. Maybe things aren't as bad as they were seeming for a moment.

On the dais, Anemone releases the breath she did not realize she had sucked into her chest and smiles approvingly at Khalid. He's not such a bad fellow after all, it would seem. At least where hugs go.

Khalid Atar has faced many enemies on the field of battle, but Riana, Mistress of Ribbons, nearly undoes him this day. Somehow or the other, he manages to call up his courage and meet that hug with an embrace of his own. Words are exchanged, before the golden girl of the Empyre is let go to fly as she may.

Large, heavy trays carrying beverages weigh on the servants' shoulders as they weave through the people.

That intense, sharp gaze of Drusus' returns to the dais for the few moments that it takes him to discern that, no, Riana will neither be skewered nor roasted nor both. He returns his attention to the elegant lady of Khalida. "I would be pleased to do so, Shakir. Remember, however, that I do not bear the crown. My authority in matters diplomatic is limited."

Faanshi casts Medea a brief, awed glance and then widens it to encompass Altair and Callidora, before she goes on about her appointed task. She circulates round to the chairs on the God-King's side of the great chamber, keeping well out of the line of sight of the performers. That activity up on the dais for a moment seizes her attention, though, and she can't quite help but gape. First she's seen the Khalid engaged in kissing; now she's seen him hugged. Wonders abound this night.

Hidenouri chuckles aloud at something StormBearer says. Her gaze then turns back to the crowd, her eyes drawn to Yoritomo.

A wry, nervous grin, and if it were not for the intentionally notched chin of determination, Kaia's feminine knees could very well be knocking like a little school girl's. Lively stepping to the forefront of the carpeted stage, a moment is taken to swoop both wings outwards in horizontal descent, skirts sweeping once more. An elegant curtsey for all.

This is good. Riana comes back from hugging the God-King unscathed. It would have been a real damper on things if Thalia's pale daughter had been reduced to a pile of ash. Yes, that would have been a real drag. The Queen breathes a soft sigh, one of the relief variety, as Ria returns to her side.

The day is indeed noteworthy, for even Shahar can favor a candala with a brilliant, white-toothed smile at the reaction from Drusus. "Call it only a matter of curiosity on my part, an exchange of ideals and courtesies and culture. Tomorrow morning, therefore? I realize for now you are anxious to speak to the Amir-al and others of note, hmm?"

Ever the aloof social butterfly, Yoritomo straightens somewhat, resting his back firmly against that of the chair in a rigid pose. What a stick-in-the-mud. Still, he catches Hidenouri's look out of his peripheral vision and turns the appropriate degrees to focus a glance upon her, providing a gentle nod of acknowledgment.

On the dais, Oriane reaches out with her hand not lightly touching Thalia's gown to touch Riana and reassure herself slightly. Turning her attention to Khalid, she steps forward slightly and gives a combined curtsey and a bow of her head. There are no exuberant hugs from the darkling. Instead, there is an uncertainty and a wary respect in her gaze as lush, night-blessed wings flutter behind her.

Chana-Cari smiles as she spots her akraba, Ranjeet. She lifts her hand in a wave, hoping he catches sight of it.

Drusus inclines his head. "Tomorrow, Shakir. I will pay visit when your water-clocks stand at ten bells, if that pleases you, or when you send word."

To and fro move the servants in the room, in a dance of their own as they crisscross each other with their laden and bare trays. So perfect is the servant's dance, that despite the crush of people, no one collides and nothing is dropped. Food and drink are served with aplomb and dignity, as if the servants are proud of their skill and pleased to have a chance to show off even this form of Varati glory to the other races. To the side stands the director and choreographer, Maat's directions never cease. Shrimp is directed toward the Atlanteans. Chicken swaddled in a light blanket of pastry is directed toward some men who look in need of meat. With each opening of her mouth, an hand empty of drink or a mouth devoid of food has a servant sent toward it.

Shahar hesitates not a jot. "Ten bells it shall be. Thank you, Dominus."

On the dais, Khalid composes himself. He even fits a scowl on his face to make up for that momentary lapse in stoic calmness. Still, as Oriane approaches, he inclines his chin to the darkling daughter and allows the scowl to fade into a smile. "Oriane. Thank you for attending."

"You are welcome... Imphada," says Drusus. The word sounds strange and it is touched with an accent rarely heard: a frontier's accent.

Callidora accepts the most delicate of gifts from Medea as they sit down amongst the chairs on the Queen's side of the room. She blushes as she feels Altair's eyes upon her and smiles back at him lovingly, emerald eyes framed with scarlet fire-lashes as she gazes upon him before returning them back to Medea. Oblivious to all else that is going on about them, even perhaps Khalid and Thalia sitting upon the dais with Thalia's twin daughters, one dark, one golden, but still each an Empyrean.

On the dais, Anemone has no hugs for Khalid, not that he likely would mind, but she assuredly has one for Thalia. Without touching the magnificently-arrayed Queen, she contents herself with whispering, "You are the goddess to a god tonight, my Domina," and then shuts up. Like a good servant.

Hidenouri holds Yoritomo's gaze and gives him a brief, angry frown. Just as quickly, her placid expression returns.

Separating himself from a small crowd of the Clan Al'Samar, Ranjeet smiles graciously, his eyes flickering here and there to examine and consider the variety of dress. As Chana waves to him, he inclines his head with a gracious nod of acknowledgment, slowing wending his way through the massive crowds with a charming smile curling his lips.

On the dais, Riana stretches on tiptoe to get round the width of her mother's dress and to plant a kiss upon her cheek. Soft words are whispered to Thalia as well, and then the young woman moves back slightly, a delightedly pleased look upon her face.

And the music is picked up again. The rhythm of a heart, of a pulse, is slow at first. Near gentle, luring and soothing like a practiced Don Juan trying to get a young girl up on the dance floor. Taking it one step at a time, it's as calmly erotic as a hot bath having scented oils poured into it. Those red-decored palms of Kala are caressing the skins of the drums, tickling and stroking the beat out.

The voice is but a hum at first... A rich, vibrant backdrop to the drums, as dark and sweet and slow as cold molasses. She has no wings, but she has other means to add to the melody. There. A wooden flute is picked up by an ancient-looking mongrel man, his features dark enough that he could easily be mistaken for a Varati himself if it wasn't for his fragile build. Here. A vina is plucked upon, the notes as sweet and demure of noise as the appearance of the Varati girl making them. The band is doing everything they can to make the job easy for the dancer.

Anemone stands near Thalia and Riana and Oriane on the dais, but to the side. Attentive to their needs, pretty much.

On the dais, Thalia watches Oriane move toward Khalid before she turns back to Riana, leaning in to catch her whisper better. A bright grin paints her expression in response to whatever is said, and she nods. "Me too, Ria." Chuckling quietly, she straightens and turns her soft-grey gaze to Anemone. "Thank you, Annie." For, you know, keeping Riana from rushing forward during the ceremony to put ribbons in Khalid's hair, and for lending support to Ori.

Shahar bestows a last, lingering gaze upon Drusus, a cryptic smile mystifying whatever may be inferred from her irises, then she bows and eases away with the ever-present Agni-Haidar quartet in tow. Time to mingle.

Chana-Cari smiles back at Ranjeet, although somewhat a nervousness to it. "Imphadi, How nice to see you here."

To Vayu and Elania next goes the halfbreed shudra. Faanshi has had instruction drummed repeatedly into her head, and that's about all that keeps her going as she bobs her covered head at these latest notables, offering up her latest samples of food and drink.

On the dais, Khalid gives Anemone a curt nod. Little more. She is essentially shudra in his eyes and therefore warrants only minimal attention. Still, he is as gracious as can be expected. Slowly, he reseats himself in the throne.

On the dais, Oriane, turning a glance back to her mother, lifts her eyes to Khalid and regards him for a long, silent moment. With so much that has happened recently, she is unable to disguise her feelings as she used to, and the uncertainty is painfully evident as she struggles with how to face this man who has made her mother a queen. Finally, she speaks in a soft, tentative voice, "For my mother, I would have gone anywhere. It... it is an honor to be here." There is honest truth to the last, for when her worry has not been overwhelming, her curiosity has absorbed everything in Ushas-Gah she has been allowed to see.

Drusus returns the bow and then, upon straightening, becomes the observant, still figure within its frame of Praetorian glory. He glances back towards the dais and then looks over to where the Princeps last stood. Entering into motion at last, the man walks over towards Leonidas.

Rabi carefully keeps up her writing. Her golden glowing eyes peek up every now and then, checking for others who might wish to approach the Amir-al.

Bringing his palms together, Ranjeet bows fractionally, greeting, "Namaste, Chana-Cari... I would not have missed this event for all the kingdoms of the Varati. After all, it is my handiwork," he adds with a slight wink. "I need to make sure that my audience is well pleased with my creations, so I know how to better serve in the future."

On the dais, Anemone beams brightly at Thalia and whispers with a discreet wink, "No thanks necessary when I do something out of love, you..." before she sees Khalid's eyes on her. A smile follows, uncertain until she realizes she is not going to spontaneously combust, then, doing what comes naturally, she steps to Thalia's side. Guard terrier.

Obviously well pleased with herself, Riana swivels to overlook all of the people. That a line is developing becomes apparent to the winged girl, and so, with a bit of reluctance, she dips a low curtsey toward both King and Queen, and then steps carefully downward. There'll be time for more happy family moments later.

On the dais, Khalid's blue eyes find Oriane's own. He speaks quietly, "I am glad you have come, Oriane. I hope you will stay a few days and see Ushas-Gah in full, as well as Masada. Perhaps, if you wish, I could tell you more about Vinita. She may have been painted a villain in the Empyre, but she was a woman whose spirit was unrivaled. She does all darklings and Empyreans proud."

Green-gold eyes turn from the hypnotizing dance to Faanshi, as the shudra approaches with food and drink. Elania bobs her head in a quick nod to the halfbreed, one hand coming up to readjust the shell-encrusted combs in her hair as she does. "Hello-to-you," she greets in her cheery warble, leaving the 'Imphada' off -- in her experience, it seems to trouble the shudra and naraki when they're referred to as such. "You enjoyed the wedding?" she wonders as she sets aside her empty copper cup and leans forward to look over the hors d'oeuvres and beverages offered.

As Riana descends from the dais, a servant appears at her side bearing a silver tray laden not with drink or foodstuffs, but a splendid array of ribbons: wide ribbons, thin ribbons, ribbons that curl, ribbons with wavy edges, and in every imaginable color. However, in the very center of the tray is a singular color not repeated, a ribbon of purple, set on a plush background of white velvet as if it were a jewel. The servant kneels before the Empyrean girl and offers the items on the platter. The servant says nothing, but merely offers up the tray.

Chana-Cari smiles, returning his bow with a polite nod of her head. "It is beautiful work, imphadi." She motions to the empty seats near by, an offer for him to sit if he wish.

Leonidas meets Drusus halfway through the approach, one hand still behind his back, hand hidden beneath his wings. He offers, when they meet, "Drusus Jove," as if the man didn't know his own name.

"Here, Elania." Vayu's statement is punctuated with the offering of some other strange drink he's grabbed from a tray; along with it, he steals a pear -- for everyone knows that pears are the best fruit on the face of the planet. "Good day, imphadi Yoritomo. Enjoying yourself, I hope?" he inquires pleasantly, handing the glass to Elania. This is a high-class event -- meaning nobody ever finishes anything, and it's more about 'tasting the fruits of labor,' rather than actually eating them. Sample enough, and you'll not only understand the lay of the land, but the way of things. Bobbing his head, Vayu comments, "Thank you, Faanshi." He knows her name! Gasp! Amazing!

Fragile and distinct, two characteristics which the winged performer chooses to play upon. Nimble fingers weave an imaginary border of fringe and frippery within the ample space before her, before an arc of toned flesh is defined. Shivering with tambourine flare, both wings stretch backwards as Kaia lifts to one bare, dainty foot to skim her duoed calf. The sensual arch of an angel, yet infiltrated with a sweet, naive essence as the daring pose is held.

Another server approaches Chana-Cari, Ranjeet, and Sunil with beverages.

"Princeps," says Drusus, quiet curiosity in his eyes. He regards the other, wings resting across his shoulders. His honor guard has remained in its place against the wall.

Just then, Yoritomo blinks. Simply that -- he blinks. With a demeanor as placid as a calm water, he returns to just being hunched forward, looking but not touching anything, even the food proffered by the servants in this most fascinating of pageants. The reverie is finally broken as Vayu speaks to him, and with a gentle, sideways inclination of his head, he gives the Varati man an amicable nod. "But of course!" He responds, with audible enthusiasm in a smooth voice.

"You are too kind," Ranjeet replies formally, though his tone is warm and friendly. Shaking his head with a gracious but reluctant smile, Ranjeet apologizes, "I am sorry... but with all the excitement and conversation and food ... well, I have not yet had time to pay my proper respects. If you will forgive me?"

Altair looks to the Dais a moment, then to Callidora. He whispers something to her.

Actually, yes, it is rather amazing. Faanshi is startled enough that she stares at Vayu in wonderment for three full seconds before recovering her composure and bobbing her head to him. Her attention flickers back to Elania, then, to whom she murmurs, "It was... " Words fail her. "It was magnificent," she then manages. Once Vayu and Elania are both attended, she turns to Yoritomo, offering him a sampling of her platter next.

On the dais, Oriane glances briefly to her mother and Anemone. When her dark eyes rise to Khalid's fiery blue ones, there's a faint tensing to her wings. That name has been flung at her before, but cruel children seeking to wound the one who was different. But she knows he of all people does not bring it up for that reason, so the darkling nods and murmurs softly, "I would be honored, Amir-al."

Speaking quietly to Khalid with an occasional glance at her mother, Oriane takes a step backwards and realize her sister is missing. Turning her head slightly, dark eyes widen as she sees the tray of ribbons being presented to her golden twin.

Chana-Cari thanks the server, taking one of the drinks offered. "Of course not, Imphadi." She smiles, nodding to Ranjeet. "As I said, it was nice to see you, Imphadi."

On the dais, Thalia steps close to Anemone as the young woman nears, a light bumping of shoulder to shoulder. A smile is given before she looks over to Oriane, her gaze resting there a moment before she turns to resettle herself upon her throne. Her eyes sweep out, noting Riana out in the crowd as she checks to see if anyone else is approaching the dais. Uh-oh. Ria on her own. This is a dangerous thing. Licking her lips, she darts attention back to her dark daughter. "Oriane?" Help? Please?

Leonidas allows, "I was not certain we would see you here, what with preparations to be made. I am glad you could attend."

On the dais, Anemone hastens a bow to Thalia and Khalid and issues a quiet promise to be close if she is needed, then begs permission to go. And takes off after Riana.

"It would certainly have been seen as an offense," says Drusus quietly. "Although I hold no rank at present. How fare you, sir?"

On the dais, Khalid simply inclines his chin to Oriane before casting his gaze out to watch Riana with vague amusement. A final comment, "Enjoy the eve, Oriane. We will speak later."

The notes are plucked from the air like birds eating sweet berries, one after the other carefully devoured to leave only the small seeds. But then it changes. Just a fraction of an inch, a whisper of a challenge, as the hum turns into a low song. An ancient one, bespeaking the beauty of woman. Not any particular woman, not even the Varati women, but Woman. The Female. The naivete and apparent innocence of the dancer is counterparted by the faintly suggestive rhythm of those drums. As the heart is picking up the pace, the speed of the pulse increasing. Flute and vina are but frosting, precious side dishes to the main course. That of the drum and the dancer. Varati and Empyrean, one stroking and fingering the skin of the instrument, the other caressing the floor and the air.

Delicately extending a snowy, webbed hand, Yoritomo makes a gesture of polite denial at the offered food. Really, none often ask of an Atlantean's dietary preference much around the world of the drylanders, and it could be that the look he gives some of the items on display be akin to a grimace of discomfort? Some things were not made for digestion by some people. "Thank you, but it is no need. I am not hungry."

Anemone appears to have realized Thalia is one daughter shy on the dais and, with a hasty bow and a last glance to the new queen, she removes herself from the royal presence to follow the trail of ribbons and find Riana.

Brushing lightly forward, Riana is brought to a sudden halt by the approach of the servant and his burden. It takes a long moment for the girl to realize that she is not being offered food, and an even longer moment for her to realize just what is arrayed before her. Ribbons! It is just as well that she has already cried away most of her eye makeup, as tears of absolute joy spring anew. Reaching with tentative fingers, she plucks that oh-so-special purple one from the center, and then slowly turns back toward the dais. A low curtsey and a special smile is delivered to Khalid Atar, alone. If he thought he'd seen true devotion before in his long lifetime, it has now been outmatched. Clearly she would love to rush him once again, but one earth- shattering hug for the night is most likely enough for this crowd.

Altair takes Callidora's arm in his, standing from the table. They walk towards the dais, looking towards the God-King and his Queen. Stopping, they await a turn with the newlyweds.

On the dais, Oriane moves to go, but then pauses. Turning, she steps to her mother's side and embraces her with a quick kiss. Queen and perhaps Goddess by association, Thalia is still her mother, and Oriane felt the need to do that. Pulling back, she smiles softly at her mother and then moves quickly off after her sister.

Taking a drink as well, Ranjeet lifts it to Chana is a small unspoken toast. "And you Imphada -- may the night cover you with the blessings of this joyous union and see you well on your way to your own." He inclines his head graciously, accepting a meat roll proffered by yet another servant, and eating it with relish and taste, he turns to wend his way gracefully through the crowd.

On the dais, Rabi smiles again under her veil.

For a moment, when he thinks no one is looking, Khalid's lips creep into the quickest of grins and a fiery blue eye flickers in an amused wink at Riana. Yes, even the God-King has a sense of humor. As quickly as it appeared, it is gone and he forces that calm, stoic and regal expression upon his handsome features once again.

Leonidas' eyebrows lift. "Well, well enough, and my thanks for asking. Glad," he adds, stealing a glance at a passing servant, "that we avoided insult."

"As you wish, imphadi," murmurs Faanshi to Yoritomo, then, her head shyly bowed, her gaze lowered away from his visage, and accordingly she does not note his slight wince of distaste. Her attention creeps off again, looking for the next person in line, the next person in the sea of unfamiliar faces and races, the next noble she needs to attend.

Drusus murmurs a response to the Princeps.

Rabi straightens up slightly, lifting pen from paper. She glances out at the supplicants and, with the writing instrument, singles out Altair and his companion as the next to approach eternity.

Sails flush with an extravagant, upwards slashing as Kaia's silver mane drips to coat the floor with a metallic glimmering, bare arms outstretched as slim shoulders begin to quake. Quality gyrations of perfectly matching artistic attitude twine a feeling of feminine force and refinement. Wild and elusive, as the slap of heels mingle betwixt both worlds.

Leonidas' brow furrows as he responds to Drusus, attention wandering over the room and her occupants.

Riana couldn't float any higher were she to suddenly take flight. Oh yes, she catches Khalid's wink, and a tinkle of delighted laughter lifts up from her before she turns back to examine the delights of her gift. Anemone and Oriane both are drawn to her sides to look over the tray in minute detail.

The deepest smile graces Thalia's expression, brought about by Oriane's kiss and Riana's joy. Trailing her gaze after her darkling daughter, she does not depart from her until she's made it to her sister's side. It is then that the Queen looks off to the side, to the dark-winged God and King who is now her husband. The smile remains but grows softer, more inward. Only a moment can be spent there, though, her attention shifting to Altair and his companion as they are motioned forward.

Altair looks up to Rabi as he and Callidora are called upon. He nods, giving a little swallow as he moves closer to eternity.

Drusus nods slightly, his expression softening. He withdraws from Leonidas to speak with his 'staff,' if the guards can be said as much. There is a moment of hesitation among them, but then they nod in agreement with whatever it is he is saying. They stay put as he returns to Leonidas' side.

Stopping here and there to speak with one of his Varati brethren, Ranjeet slowly but surely carves a path for himself toward the long line of well-wishers. His steps bring him closer to the performers, and he watches them with an appreciative eye, his hands lightly clapping in response to the music and the talent before him -- surprising to find such knowledge of Varati styles in an Empyrean's repertoire ... though the wings add a different slant and balance to the whole. His glass is exchanged for another, and just as quickly drained with pleasure.

A small entourage enters the already amassed throng. First it is Kaimakam Zuhayr and his consort, Alaia, each with an arm around the other. Although, by all appearances, it is the former which supports the weaker, feminine frame. Weak, indeed, for it is her twin newborns that follow, wrapped within the enveloping, snuggling arms of one bustling Khadisha.

Gazing down fondly at Riana for long moments, and with gentler expression on Oriane, Khalid raises his gaze to exchange a tender look with his Queen and wife. She is such a stark contrast to him, yet the perfect complement in so many ways. Tearing his attention from Thalia, he studies Altair and his companion with an impassive expression.

On the dais, Khalid inclines his chin politely to Altair and Callidora. He says smoothly, in those quiet tones of his, "The Crown of the Varati empire greets you." Ebon wings stir, brushing more of the gold off of them.

Reaching her sister's side, Oriane smiles fondly at her sister, touching the re-grown blond locks before murmuring softly, "They're beautiful, Riana. And will be even more so in your hair." Though she's attentive to her sister, dark eyes lift and wander to another point in the room for a moment.

Leonidas once again nods to Drusus as he is rejoined, then with a squaring of his shoulders, and resettling of his wings, he starts forward toward the queue to speak with Thalia and Khalid.

Quicker. Faster. The heart is beginning to pound in its nonexistent chest, no longer that of a person in love, but of a Lover. Not even pausing as the drummer is replaced by another female, Kala joining Kaia on the floor to dance. The Varati female's hips are circling around and around in one direction, her upper body moving in the other whilst the golden ring in her navel is near sparkling like a tiny, hollowed out star. Swirling once, before moving in closer, a dusky hand trailing momentarily over the other's feathers. Dancing, like the duo that they are, whilst her voice keeps up the lyrics. Woman, all the uncountable things that are you. Dusky skin against creamy pale, brown eyes glittering green as they meet the indigo, black locks catching to the platinum.

Rabi glances up from her work and sees Zuhayr and his family, so newly expanded. Delight dances in her eyes before she returns her attention to the Amir-al, his words, his guests. Her pen touches down again, drawing more words.

On the dais, Altair bows deeply, half-kneeling quite gracefully despite his formal Delphic armor. A bow befitting a God-King, he hopes. Callidora curtseys deeply beside him as well. "Ave Deus, Dea. I wanted to give you my most sincere congratulations on this day of days, and hope that it brings you many happy returns." He smiles warmly, his feelings genuine.

Drusus walks alongside the Princeps, feathers rustling quietly with each step.

Belatedly, Elania covets Vayu's... pear. Not quite a peach, but it's fruit, and her sweet tooth knows no bounds when it comes to the many varieties of sweetsoftwet. Another drink to be discreetly sniffed-at, as well; she blinks, drawing back from it a little. Stronger, this one, and definitely not kaffe. She tries a sip, pronounces it good, and drinks deeper. "She had green eyes, Vayu, did you see?" she wonders after the fact, sucking the sweet-sharp flavor of the drink off her bottom lip.

Supporting indeed. Zuhayr's steps are necessarily slow, arm curled as it is around Alaia's waist. He murmurs, frequently, to her, and to the shudra walking behind them as well.

Riana follows Oriane's gaze, and her smile falters just a tiny bit. With a soft nudge and a lifting of several offerings, she speaks quietly to her sister. "Will you come with me to try these out? Veils are pretty, but ribbons..." her voice trails off. Need she say more?

"She's a halfbreed, dear," Vayu answers of Elania, smiling vaguely. "She probably has graisha-blood in her, you know... and she has healing magic, too." Spreading the shudra's secrets, Vayu! For shame! He drinks his newest drink, regarding the festivities as if from on high. Alaia's children have been born, it seems, and to her he offers a smile and a nod -- he's not close with Zuhayr's consort, but she's a smart woman, and pleasant.

Perhaps not so surprising, two of the slowly-moving group happen to be the smarter of the bunch, and at present? Sound asleep, despite the prevailing chaos. Alaia, on the other hand, alights quite considerably as the joyous occasion has no doubt touched deep within her expanded heart. Vayu's nod is returned, even as a cheek nuzzles her Kaimakam.

At last, her current platter is emptied, and Faanshi finds herself momentarily between duties. Safely out of the way, the shudra checks her pockets, to see if the humble gift with which she has been entrusted is still safely there. It is. Accordingly, she asks for and receives leave to approach the array of gifts that has been assembled for the God-King and his bride. The two items she pulls forth for the inspection of -- well, of those who are in charge of the gifts -- are a small bound scroll and an ornate pouch of red velvet, trimmed in blue and gold.

On the dais, Khalid's eyes fiery blue eyes regard Altair under a thick veil of black lashes. He speaks quietly, "The Crown thanks for your kind words. You have come a long way to celebrate this day with us, and we appreciate the gesture." His voice is firm, despite the fact he barely speaks above a whisper. There is no need, his power and strength is obvious. Yet, today, he seems gentler than one would expect of this black-winged deity and supposed herald of death.

On the dais, Thalia brushes a fingertip along the lower edge of one eye, chasing away the lingering dampness brought about by emotion. However, she has already settled back into a gentle calm, her wide grin slipping into the graceful curve of a faint smile. "Thank you -- Dominus, Domina -- for your warm words of congratulations and your show of support by means of your attendance on this historic day," she replies, her gentle grey gaze resting on the pair.

Settling himself in line, Ranjeet watches the dancing pair with bright interest, the curl of his lips indicating his pleasure and approval of their efforts. That is one thing ... not enough dancing at this wedding. In the eastern lands of the Varati, weddings are not so formal or restrained. There is drumming, dancing, drinking, and, well, other joyous "acts." Smiling wryly in remembrance, Ranjeet shakes his head, taking up another drink, though doing so might not be so wise. Without realizing it his feet start to shift, as if dying to dance as well, but the motions are restrained.

Pulling her eyes back from another in the room, Oriane blinks once at Riana and gives a wan little smile, "All right." Helping her sister with the piles of ribbons, the darkling and her twin move towards the exit and their guest chamber, a guard trailing after them for both their protection and to keep them from wandering where they should not.

"Really?" Elania's eyes widen a little, and she turns to look in the direction Faanshi was last spotted, curious to spot the shudra again. So many veiled servants to pick through -- she thinks she spots the girl once, leaning this way and that, then gives up the search with a mild sigh. Her teacher's attention has been diverted, and hers turns in that way as well. Green-gold eyes soften as a quiet trill hums in the back of her throat. "Babies," she happysighs wistfully, watching.

Ebony. Ivory. Sugar. Spice. Despite the exertion derived from such a liquid, velveted dance, Kaia's enjoyment finds no boundaries. All honor is bestowed the Queen with such patpatted steps of jive upon the thin, oceanic carpets, heat and vitality radiating from the makeshift, wooden stage.

On the dais, Altair smiles, bowing his head again. He does his best not to show it, a strong exterior before the God-King, but inside he is feeling rather flustered and nervous. "I hope perhaps, upon your return to Haven, that I might see you about the city some time. Such would be a great pleasure."

On the dais, Khalid allows a final nod to be given to Altair. "Upon our return, I am sure at some point or the other, either the Queen or I would be able to entertain a representative of the Hounds. I look forward to that day. Once again, our thanks for your attendance."

On the dais, Rabi's lips press tightly to suppress a smile, even though the gesture is hidden by her veil. She ducks her head down and concentrates on her writing.

A variant upon the gifts first offered by Faanshi and her kinswoman Ulima upon their deliverance from Clan Sarazen, what the shudra presents for the inspection of the Agni-Haidar proves to be a rida scroll on the finest paper an Ushasti priestess can acquire, with a blessing of the Khalid's holy Mother inscribed thereon in Ulima's aged hand. Beneath it is a far simpler line of script, the work of Faanshi. The embroidered pouch is proven to contain herbs; questioned as to their purpose, the shudra whispers timidly and blushingly to the guard that they are for the blessing of marriage. As herbal lore is not exactly the province of the Agni-Haidar, an Atarvani is waved over to confirm the pouch's contents, and the priest proclaims them what the girl has stated.

On the dais, Thalia smiles and nods to Altair, her lips curving up a faint bit more on one end. It gives her a vaguely lopsided expression, one of mirth and good-humor. It is a splendid evening, a time for enjoyment and celebration before having to buckle down to responsibility. "Again, thank you," she replies richly before turning a glance to her husband.

Altair bows to the God-King and his Queen, bidding farewell. "May you have clear skies." He steps carefully away from them, away from the dais. While Callidora decides to return to her seat and rest a spell, Altair looks towards Leonidas and Drusus, beginning a slow approach.

How long have they been dancing? A couple of hours? And still, neither Varati performer nor Empyrean seem to tire just yet. The music picks up further, beginning to edge over from 'fast' to 'pounding,' silks swirling around sweat shimmering bodies.. And then the change comes again. Hollowed out, wooden sticks beat against each other with a near bell-like sound, a sibling to the drum.. Exotic flavoring being added to the already-existing sensuality, a sheer eroticism as the voice of Kala goes lower. Deeper. Richer. Clasping her hands behind the back of her head, her knees bend as her feet go together. Swaying whilst she goes lower in front of the Empyrean, squirming this way and that, her spine is doing a swaying motion that seems near impossible. High on adrenaline now, endorphins to kill that hint of ache in her muscles, she's nearing the peak of the performance. The words are of how a woman can drive a man crazy, now. The little things, the unexpected bearing of the delicate, soft flesh at the back of the knee, the inside of the elbow. Near complaining tone, at the same time as she also seems to be near laughter. Teasing and teased, alluring and lured.

On the dais, Khalid mutters something under his breath as he watches Altair depart, before turning a soft smile on Thalia again.

Rabi looks up from her work and over the line of those waiting to speak with the God-King and his bride. Two Empyreans stand at the fore and she examines them briefly before gesturing that they may approach, her pen pointing out the figures of Leonidas and Drusus.

Standing, Vayu regards the room with a half-smile and the twinkle present in his eye; such are his gifts to the God-King and Queen Thalia. Not much, but what can a man give, who desires nothing but to serve? Turning from the assembled revelers -- and in what appears to be abrupt departure -- he walks from the throne room. Perhaps he's getting some air.

Altair walks on past the two with a nod in greeting, hoping he might have a chance to see them before the reception is through.

Drusus regards the scribe and inclines his head to her, acknowledging the acknowledgment. At Leonidas' side, he steps forward.

Leonidas follows Drusus, inclining his head likewise to the woman who writes so diligently for her king.

Zuhayr guides Alaia toward the line as well, to wait.

On the dais, Khalid's expression is once more that mask of calm, impassive strength the Varati are so well known for. The lingering amusement at Altair's antics has died out in his blue eyes. He inclines his chin respectfully to Drusus, then Leonidas. "Emperor-Apparent." A faint smile touches his lips as he speaks to Leonidas, "I am glad I was right in my prediction, Princeps. It is good to meet you again. And under better circumstances."

At the demanding turn of the dance, a soft ululation breaks out from the crowds watching, an appreciative fluctuating cry encouraging the Varati woman to yield to them every last ounce of her talent. Ranjeet joins in the cry as well, his hands clapping with the driving rhythm of the drums as he watches with obvious enjoyment. There is a discreet tap upon his shoulder though, and turning, he realizes with some surprise that he is next in line. For a moment he is torn between responding to the performance and preparing for his audience. Finally he finds a middle ground between the two, still watching the dance, but bringing his reactions down a few degrees.

An answering soprano, crystal with clarity, sultry satisfaction licking each torrid note as Kaia's wings taunt. Tantalizing flutterings glide alongside her counterpoint's bared, tightened belly, before whisking to trail a sizzling path before her, explicit with invitation, a hint at feminine wiles, a suggestion of more.

Her duty done as best she can fulfill it, Faanshi leaves her gift safely with the rest, and hastily returns to a shudra's appointed tasks.

On the dais, Leonidas bows, formally, first to Khalid, and again toward Thalia. "It was an honor to receive the invitation to attend, Khalid Atar. I am pleased that things have settled somewhat. A time of peace is sorely needed for the days no doubt to come."

As the presence of something dark moving across the night sky might be noted because of the lack of stars where it is, so is Drusus notable not for the presence of emotion but the lack of it. He is a void of expression in a such a sea of joy, jubilation, awe, and profound worship. But never is he anything but unfailingly polite. He bows a respectful greeting, to Khalid and to Thalia. "Your Majesties." It is all he offers for the moment as Leonidas replies to Khalid. His gaze flicks across the Varati God-King, faintly curious, faintly appraising, mostly empty, or at least very, very shuttered.

On the dais, Khalid acknowledges Leonidas' statements with another nod as he speaks, "And I am glad you were able to attend. And that you have become Princeps. I am sure you will do your Empyre proud and steer your kingdom to peace with my own." Still, his attention reverts to Drusus. Considering the man for a long time, he says quietly, "You are he who is to be Emperor, yes? Drusus Jove?"

Words are exchanged between Khalid and Leonidas, but it is Drusus who seems to win the God-King's attention in the end.

Elania watches Vayu leave, expression hovering tremulously between disappointment and dismay. Her teacher is always leaving. Hmf. She wilts a bit, settling back further in her chair, one knee drawn up towards her chin, drink-free hand clasped 'round her shin. She sips frequently from her glass, attention restlessly flicking over the rest of the room, stopping most often on Yoritomo and the paired dancers.

On the dais, Thalia straightens up a bit on her throne, subtle shifting her wings behind her as she trades inward chuckles for a calm smile. Her eyes touch upon Leonidas first, since he is familiar to her. After all, he inadvertently had a hand in putting her in this position, having been involved with the negotiation of the treaty. "Princeps," she greets, nodding her head to him. Attention moves to Drusus, restrained curiosity lifting her eyebrows a fraction. She's heard about him and in way not necessarily associated with the rank he will soon take within the Empyre. "Emperor-Apparent."

On the dais, Drusus does not wilt from the gaze of such a dangerous being as he who sits in rulership here. There is no challenge in his grey eyes. Just that pale appraisal as the soldier meets his people's legendary enemy. It is the gaze of a man who studies. "I am the one chosen, yes, Your Majesty," he says, his voice a quiet, distant baritone. "Drusus, son of Marcus. I bring greetings from my House and congratulations to both your Majesties on this occasion of your marriage." The words, formally couched, still manage somehow not to sound stilted.

More? They want more? Now Kala is laughing, a chuckling quality that's transplanted to the song, Woman's taunting teasing reply to Man's plead for mercy. And her legs are parting, the bend still to them though the distance between her feet is getting larger. Wider with each shake, each squirm, whilst her back is doing a bend that just HAS to get her strained muscles tomorrow morning. Back and down she goes, keeping her balance in the impossible position of having the back of her head nearing the floor whilst her legs seem intent on spreading to a completely horizontal line over the floor. Thank Ushas for the slits in her sari, the hidden seams that keep her skirt from riding up on her hips. Faster, faster, the pounding is over going to a frenzied call, the palms of the drummer screaming with pain from the slapping impacts with the skin, the flute shrieking out notes that are still somehow pure, the vina all but vibrating with the urgent movements of the hands of its wielder. And the Varati's voice is panting, laughing, Man begging and pleading for mercy. At the same time as asking for more.

As the night wends on, a single tiring shudra halfbreed makes it at last to the end of her appointed shift of service. The excellent guidance of Maat and those others who have commanded the arrangements of the shudra and naraki this night have arranged for fresh replacements to boost the first wave of servants before any encroaching weariness is obvious. And accordingly, as unnoticed as she came -- or at least as far as Faanshi can tell, for after all, one cannot see much with one's eyes shyly diverted floor-ward -- exeunt the young servant girl, stage out.

On the dais, Khalid's voice is quiet, soft, but it hints at the promise of power that he holds at his fingertips. Still, there is no threat in his demeanor or actions at all. Instead, he seems purely curious as he inquires, "I would like to speak with you in greater detail. In private at some point. However, for now, I ask only a single question. Please excuse me if it appears rude, but are you always like this, Deus? So... controlled? Do you always hold your emotions so tightly in check?"

A gleaming sculpture of pale colors skirts the sides of the room, weaving through the clusters of well-wishers on a direct path to Yoritomo's side. Shinjukou picks her way carefully to avoid drawing attention from the dancing. Drylanders. So odd, their celebrations. The woman's mouth is brushed with the faintest of smile as she settles beside the Orcinus First Domo.

On the dais, Leonidas will not answer for Drusus, but in response, his own shoulders tighten.

On the dais, Drusus arches one eyebrow, but the gesture is very faint. "I ask why Your Majesty asks that question," he says, curious.

As words are exchanged on the dais, Khalid allows himself a soft laugh. It is a laugh of appreciation, not amusement or criticism. He gazes upon Drusus with twinkling blue eyes as he speaks anew.

On the dais, Thalia folds her hands, slender fingers twining as she settles them in her lap. Her smile has faded down into the most subtle of curves -- not because she has lost her humor but simply because curiosity takes a greater hand in her expression. She seems intrigued, like her husband, with what the Emperor-Apparent's answer is going to be.

His eyes caught by the ethereal creature, the shift to the seats by the dais he awaits before. Ranjeet finds that his gaze is torn away from the tempestuous dance. While he relishes the wild impetuous pacing, the contortion of form and figure, there is also a soft yen for the more formal style of Varati court dance... a style that sadly enough seems to be waning out of fashion. His dark eyes rest then for a moment upon the cool colors of the Atlantean, taking a moment of respite there.

Rabi glances up at the laugh of her god and tilts her head, regarding the two men who stand before him. She looks out past them, over those waiting, and gives faint nods to both Ranjeet and Zuhayr. Her gaze softens as she sees Alaia once again, and her babies.

Those babies. Those two boys are the recipient of Alaia's continual looks. Yearning to cradle each, worry for their care, love of a mother. All cast right around that towering Agni-Haidar at her side.

On the dais, Khalid's laughs trails off into a soft chuckle, "Already you are cautious, Emperor-Apparent. A wise virtue. You gauge and wait. You find out as much information as you can, before speaking or action or revealing your hand." He shows his appreciation with a slight nod. Finally, his explanation is forthcoming, "I ask, because I feel it is important. You are young still, though I see the wisdom of the years in your hard eyes. I wonder if those eyes are too hard, however. Strength is to be appreciated. Control even moreso at times. To weather the elements, you must be stronger than them, no? Cut out everything around you and you will not be harmed." He pauses, before pressing on, "Yet, let me leave you with this one piece of advice. I have learned, over the centuries, that passion, sheer passion and emotion, can create miracles that no amount of control can ever achieve. A great warrior can control himself in all things. The very best can summon such passion and emotion in his time of need. This applies for monarch as well, Deus. Do not be too hard, lest you forgot why you are made Emperor, and lest that control break at the worst time -- for all can break."

Shadowed steps gracefully dip the pale Empyrean lass with a feinted thrust to retreat as a ferocious tidal upheaval. Velvety feathers spread in peacock fan to fold just as suddenly, before once more the pristine display is agilely twisted, brushing Kala with a hearty breeze, before once more she drops into a mirrored dance. Movement for movement. Touch and glide and stroke.

"Hello-to-you, Princess," Elania greets, eyes brightening from their minutes of dulled dismay. She looks between Yoritomo and Shinjukou as she finishes off the last of her drink, setting the glass aside for a servant to collect. A curious look -- are they talking to themselves, she wonders, and if they are, what do they say? "Elania is glad you're back," she adds, rather earnestly.

On the dais, if Drusus is moved, he does not express it. He merely nods and says, "My thanks for the advice, Your Majesty. The answer to your question is: No. Not always."

On the dais, "Mm. You are welcome. Perhaps we will speak more at some point. I would like that. I knew both Lucian and Justinius. I liked them both. I hope we may have a future together." No more words. Khalid has said enough. He inclines his chin to both Princeps and Emperor-Apparent, before gazing back at his Queen.

On the dais, Leonidas' expression lightens ever so slightly, and he speaks again, saying, "Again, our congratulations on your marriage, Khalid Atar, Domina." He glances at Drusus, then turns to descend the dais.

Sea-foam pale eyes lack their usual chill this evening. There is something almost of genuine unveiled amusement, actual pleasure in the crystal light of Shinjukou's gaze as it casts about. Flickering over the dancers before skimming towards the dais -- noting those who sit there and their expressions -- only to skirt away once more to inspect those nearby. Minute nods are awarded those who meet the Crown Princess' regard, slight smiles are offered the one, Ranjeet, who holds those eyes for longer than a bare span of seconds. But it is an absent recognition, as upon being greeted the woman directs attention to Elania. Yes, undoubtedly she and Yoritomo are speaking silently, but no difficulty is found in giving a soft reply to the graisha in that rippling waters voice of hers.

Drusus gives a bow of farewell to man and woman on their great thrones. "Majesties. Ave atque vale." And, with that, he takes a few steps before turning to descend with Leonidas.

Chana-Cari stands, bidding farewell and bowing to Sunil. She begins to make her way to the atrium.

On the dais, Thalia leans back and nods, a slight movement that seems to be an answer for an innerly-asked question. Tension, tension she had not even been aware of, leaves her shoulder and wings as she relaxes against her throne. Breathing a smile onto her lips once more, she nods to the pair as the prepare to depart. "Thank you most kindly for attending, Emperor-Apparent. Princeps. You have honored us greatly."

On the dais, Drusus says softly, "It is you who honored us with the invitation, Highness."

Is it really physically possible for the top of a person's head to be against the floor whilst her legs are straight horizontal against that same floor, spread in an exact 180 degree line? That's what Kala seems to be aiming for. The frenzy is over. The beat is instead slow, careful, building up tension like a breathed out warning. Shhh. This takes concentration, else she might slip, might slide, and hurt that curving, unnaturally bending body. Arch that spine. Bend it. Palms glide over the wood, the stone, the cloth that might be beneath her, the arch going narrower, sharper, more and more extreme to the point where her back seems to nearly be touching against itself. Jack knifed, before her palms harden against the ground. Lifting her lower body up, one leg slowly going forwards to make the 180 degree a 90, then both legs are together again. Being lifted up. Soon she is standing on her hands, before again bending. Soles against the ground once more, the knees bend yet again, and then she's on all fours on the floor, a deep bow, nearly prostrated. Lyrics still there, having gone from song to hum and now song again, Man singing of the glory of Woman. Then Kala's voice fades. Stops. And she's straightening up, chest heaving, sweat beading and dripping all over her body. One final solo from the drums, and then the music will end as well. Finished. The End of the Performance.

On the dais, "Good eve, Deus." Khalid watches Drusus and Leonidas step down from the dais with fiery blue eyes, then waits for the next person in line.

Rabi finishes up a sentence as the Emperor-Apparent steps down. She gestures with her pen towards Ranjeet and, as the man approaches, swiftly changes out a paper filled with words for a blank one.

Altair stands as he sees Leonidas and Drusus finishing with the God-King, starting a cautious approach. As if he wanted to see if he were welcome to join them, first. Those at the table he leaves, Callidora, Cepheus, Maya and Medea, all seem to be either eating or conversing amongst themselves.

Thanks a lot, Kala. You just put Kaia through rigors of which she had no plausible conceived notion. Having mirrored her counterpoint to a 't,' it is no wonder that the Empyrean's dripping sweat mingles with Kala's own. Not very attractive by half, and dangitall if she's not going to be hurting severely for weeks.

Leonidas, seemingly about to say something to Drusus, pauses mid-word to close his mouth. He slows to a halt before Altair. "Altair."

Applauding fervently, Ranjeet is taken by surprise by Rabi's summons. Turning and straightening his clothes with a casual gesture, the proud Varati approaches and bows to her first fractionally, eyes deceptively calm and relaxed, a pleasant charming smile curling his lips. "Namaste," he greets in low musical tones.

Drusus stops also, bowing his head to the Hound. "Esper, Ave."

Back inside. A brief walk in the streets of Masada seems more than enough to satisfy whatever cravings Vayu had to be part of a 'disorganized mob.' He may not be very large, as far as Varati go, but the diplomat bears himself with enough force to seem a block of lead -- or rather, mercury, as he moves throughout the assembled dignitaries as though he were part of the scenery. Melting here and there, he shifts himself about until he stands beside Shinjukou and Elania once more, head tilted back very slightly as he once more regards the God-King. Triumphant, he smiles upon those assembled -- let them take tales of this back to their peoples -- no Emperor has a city of this caliber, no king a palace like this, none have such poise. Feast your eyes, o peasants, and know that this is the King of Kings.

On the dais, Rabi goes pale under her veil, glance darting frantically from the tailor towards those who sit in king- and queenship here. She quickly nods her head before turning her gaze solidly to Khalid's boots.

Elania watches Shinjukou for a while, expression still a bit mournful, not having seen Vayu re-enter the throne room. "Vayu left," she explains simply, to whatever question was posed to her. She nibbles her bottom lip, worrying the remaining flavor of the drink off, then shrugs a little -- Important People always have Important Things to do, she supposes. "Elania is glad you're back," she repeats, brightening a bit more. "You are having a good time?" A question, technically, but not much of one -- at least to her, it's obvious the Crown Princess is in high spirits.

Altair bows his head to Drusus and Leonidas, offering a smile. "Ave Deus Thanatos, Deus Jove." He looks to Drusus with a light grin, a hand coming to the twin bars on his shoulder. "Reeve, actually." A moment's pause, before he continues. "I hope I am not interrupting? I was hoping to get the chance to see you both, as it has been quite a while."

Well, that's the sad life of mirrorhood, you know. One dusky hand will briefly clasp the Empyrean's, but then Kala will pull away again. It's just too warm for any pats on the back just yet. Cool drinks. Where're those cold drinks? She does react to the applauds of course, big white grin spreading over her face as she does another one of those low curtseys. Not quite as low as the first one, though. Those knees are just too shaky. "Ushas, I think I'm getting too old for this."

On the dais, Ranjeet turns, facing his God-King and Queen, touching forehead, lips and chest before bringing his hands together reverently, eyes cast upon the ground before them. "Namaste," he murmurs, a benediction, and then lowering down to his knees he shows full fealty by pressing his forehead to the ground, waiting for permission to rise.

Leonidas suggests, wings shifting with the breath he takes, "Perhaps now isn't the time or place for a meeting, Altair."

"Yes. Though it is different from the celebrations I remember in Orcinus." Lightly given, warm -- dare to call her fond, however, and the Crown Princess revert to glacial, and that would be rather poorly done, given the festivities. A slender, shimmering hand touches lightly upon the wrist of the fox-graisha, meant to firmly focus Elania's attention on whichever words are given by Shinjukou next. Though still seemingly relaxed, even content, the more animated sparkle that had so briefly touched her fades beneath a solemn yet still serene weight. Pearl whispers silkysoft against coral, and the jewelesque spill of her hair as head is inclined towards the dais in accompaniment of whatever question is asked. And still she is able to direct a look of greeting to the white-garbed Vayu, a curve of a smile that acknowledges his presence, and gives welcome to it. "And the Imphadi has returned. See, little heart?"

"My pardon, Reeve Altair, and congratulations," Drusus says. He nods as Leonidas speaks and says, "pardon once again, but the Princeps and I have much that we need to discuss. No offense intended."

On the dais, Thalia brushes a hand along the silks of her gown, smoothing the lengths as she waits for the next person to break from the crowd to approach the dais. The interplay between Ranjeet and Rabi is missed -- that, or it is not remarked upon. Gaze lifting up from beneath the shadow of her lashes, the Queen smiles richly as she sets her focus on the tailor. "Imphadi Al'Samar," she speaks, her tongue flowing over the name. "I am so pleased to see you here in attendance. Please, rise."

"I feel as though you just put me through a meat wringer, you imp," mumbles Kaia good-naturedly as she retreats to the very back of stage, one secured cup of coldstuffthankyouverymuch in her miniature hand as she plops down in a corner to expire.

On the dais, Khalid's eyes flicker over Ranjeet's form, as he responds in kind, "Namaste." It is impossible to tell whether he is pleased or not at the appearance of the tailor, but he does say, "The Crown is pleased you are here in attendance of our wedding. We are also pleased with your work."

Altair bows his head, his smile gone, but he understands. "I understand, and hope all is well. May you both have clear skies." He gives the fellow soldiers a salute traditional to the Hounds, then moves to return to his love and the table by the Queen.

That gets the Varati performer laughing, so tired that she almost gets some of her own cold drink up that subtly bent nose. "I was wondering if you could keep up, kama. Don't worry. I'll massage those muscles of yours tonight. You definitely deserve it." The latter is purred-sighed, as Kala sips from her goblet.

On the dais, Ranjeet, obedient to his Queen, rises up gracefully, his gaze shifting up as well, as it is hard not to look upon her beauty. "My Majesties ... you are too kind with your praise and generosity. I only wished to offer you my most humble salutations and congratulations upon this blessed wedding, to offer you my life and my services, which are as always yours to command, and to apologize that I have not had the time to offer you a gift other than the wedding raiment. Time has not been my ally, but I will atone for its thievery and offer unto you any gift that is within my power to grant. You have but to wish it for it to be made unto you."

"So I have." Vayu's answer is deadpan in amusement, urbane reaches of it twining helix about the ear to take up residence in the deepest corners of the mind. Rustling Elania's bright red hair a little, he glances up to regard the two dancers who have just finished. Skilled women, are they -- why doesn't Atesh-Gah have any of those lying about? He glances away briefly, staring down toward Drusus. Emperor-to-be. Oh, and the things we already know about you, Emperor... oh, but the things we know.

A delicious little snicker, as Kaia stretches fullform on backside to enjoy the view of a... well... actually, of a ceiling. But what a marvelous ceiling it is, at least, it will be when it stops spinning. "Kala, sugar," is her lopsided grin, "I do not know if I will be awake to appreciate it."

Drusus nods to Altair. "Ave atque vale, Reeve." He returns his attention to Leonidas. Beyond him, by the wall, his guards wait, occasionally glancing his way but their attention mostly absorbed by the room and all its spectacles.

Green-gold eyes fly open wide at whatever Shinjukou's words are, and her head swivels owl-like to stare at the dais and the two people thereupon. "You... you are sure?" she replies to the Crown Princess, looking back at the pearlescent Atlantean, nervousness coming back in droves. A flitted little smile at Vayu, head ducked into the hair-tousling -- pettings are always appreciated -- before she nods twice to Shinjukou and decides, "Elania will." She's supposed to be the True Heart, after all; what a True Heart would she be, hiding and huddling in a corner?

Leonidas gestures toward the doorway out. "Shall we?"

On the dais, Khalid's lips curve into a faint smile as he clucks his tongue in a chuckle. "The Crown is pleased with your offer and your congratulations. You have our thanks." He dips his head in a final nod towards Ranjeet as gold-stained, ebon wings flutter against his back, once.

Bowing low unto his God-King and Queen, Ranjeet touches his brow, lips, and chest, bowing over hands clasped palm to palm before lowering himself to the ground, touching his forehead in an offer of respect and reverence. It is a soft command from the Queen that has him rising once again, the soft words exchanged lost in the din of the celebration.

Drusus nods. "Aye." With a last glance over the room and its occupants and distractions, he turns and walks with Leonidas. His guards fall in behind them, plumes bobbing as they walk.

Time to go. Yes. A sleepy, lazy purred-out drawl from Kala, reaching over to help Kaia get back on her feet. "Up you go, little love. Time to hit that nice room with that big bed, and sleep, mmm?" She is practically groggy herself.. God, what a long time it has been since she last did a performance of this caliber. "Imphada Maat better pay us extra for this one, I think."

Altair nods to Callidora, taking her arm in his as he stands. Bowing to those at the table, he wishes them fond farewell and safe journey, then walks to the exit with his love.

With the help of her assigned torturer, Kaia rises, and allows herself to be prodded along, empty juice cup hanging half forgotten in one hand.

The hand lifts, curves over Elania's shoulder as Shinjukou chuckles softly -- yes, actually chuckles! -- the sound oddly melodic for all that it is not one given often. "I would not ask if I was not sure, little heart. Thank you. Come." Smoothly gaining her feet, the Atlantean woman once more angles through the gatherings of people to stand with those waiting to be recognized by the God-King and his Queen.

On the dais, Thalia's mouth is twitched in a smile. She only conveys warmth for the tailor and tilts her head, diamond-dripped tresses shifting about her face. "Please, accept my most heartfelt thanks for the talents you used to create our wedding clothes. I do not think I have seen garments so beautiful." The woman shifts faintly, anchoring an elbow upon one armrest of her throne, darting a glance to Khalid before inclining her head in a gracious nod to Ranjeet.

On the dais, Rabi dips her pen in ink and starts in on the next sentence. She looks up as she curls a letter into its neighbor and sees the advance of the Orcinus princess. A smile is hidden by her veil and she nods to her, acknowledging her place in line. Her gaze yet again returns to Alaia and her Imphadi and the two littles so new to the worlds.

Exit, stage right for two tired, sweat-smelling, ruffled, panting and flushed Performers, then. Kala leads Kaia out. Staggering a bit. And definitely cradling her goblet of nice cold niceness to her heaving chest.

Elania and Shinjukou, going up to speak to Khalid? Vayu smiles lopsidedly, and apparently decides to follow -- he tags along, at any rate, one foot after another. What sort of deputy minister would he be, if he didn't wish the happy couple his best? Like a weaving chaperone, he tails the two.

Elania trails uncertainly after Shinjukou, looking back once over her shoulder to Vayu. Roast fox is not a Varati delicacy consumed at the apex of marriage ceremonies, right? Right? Oh, thank... er, various heretical furry-gods... that Vayu's coming along. Hopefully he'll keep her from performing any huge faux pas. She takes a deep breath as the dais is neared, tiny fingers tangled before her, and moves to stand alongside Shinjukou.

On the dais, Ranjeet is bold enough to shine a smile upon Thalia, remembering his time in her chambers, properly guarded and with chaperones of course, with pleasure. But he has been clearly dismissed, and there is no reason for a lowly vaisya tailor to receive more than a simple nod from his King and Queen, if even that much of an acknowledgment. "Your words alone spin more beauty and grace than the finest weaver or tailor known. You do me great honor by bestowing them upon me." Again his hands are clasped and bowing low before them in a repeat of his first pattern of devotion, Ranjeet backs away from the royal pair with all humility.

On the dais, "Good eve." Those are the final words ushered upon Ranjeet by Khalid as he gives a final nod of his chin to the tailor. Blue eyes watch the man for long moments, before he retreats from the dais.

Kind words must be offered to the vaisya tailor, for Ranjeet beams a smile rich in pleasure at the Queens words. But it is clear that by the Khalid's words he has been dismissed, and repeating his gestures of reverence, Ranjeet withdraws himself from their regal presence.

Zuhayr's arm curls a little more securely about Alaia's arm as he murmurs in her ear, and guides her forward, up the dais. Though he does not bow as he normally would, still, he inclines his head, respectful. The shudra woman, Khadisha, climbs as well.

Rabi finishes up another word and that radiant smile returns as she points with her pen and indicates that Zuhayr and his family are free to approach their King and Master.

Thalia trails her attention after Ranjeet as he withdraws himself, the woman obviously pleased with him. After all, look at her and Khalid's clothing. He's done a good job. Gold star for him. As he leaves, the briefest glance is flickered over to Khalid before she devotes her attention to the couple who approach.

On the dais, Khalid's fiery blue eyes flicker over Zuhayr's form, then Alaia's. A faint smile creeps across his lips as he speaks, "My silken lion." Perhaps a hint of mirth in his eyes. "I see you and your consort did not wait for me and our dinner before having children. A pity. As the Royal Scribe can tell you, I enjoy the entertainment of childbirth." He gives Rabi a sidelong glance, before turning his gaze on the pair. "Still, I am glad you are both here. Your consort looks tired, Kaimakam."

Waiting and silence are two things that the Crown Princess is excellent at. Standing for any great length of time is not, after having been standing for most of the day. The woman's practiced stillness is broken by the occasional shift of feet against floor. But composure remains, continuing the calm smile that graces delicately crafted features and the serene drift of pale eyes over that around her -- inclining her head fractionally to murmur some remark to Elania.

Taking a deep breath once he is down from the dais, Ranjeet manages to hold his calm demeanor and pleasant smile, wending his way through the celebratory crowds. Along the way he manages to claim a drink and some more food. His heart is still pounding in his chest, a slight flush coming to his features as he exudes nonchalance otherwise. But the stiff drink is imbibed readily and his feet carrying him toward the atrium for some air ... and perhaps a chance to regain some of his composure.

This is the God-King who pulled a mountain out of the earth. Does he jest? Yes, it must be jest -- he can make jokes, can't he? Rabi glances up and unwittingly meets those brilliant blue eyes of his. Her own warm, copper-flecked amber eyes widen and she is trapped for one moment, two, three. She quickly looks away, back towards Zuhayr, and gives him a little nod, blushing furiously under her veil.

As the dais is gained, Alaia, only accomplishing such with the help and support of her protector, performs a weak, teetering curtsey. Heavy midnight lashes are left downcast demurely, silence maintained.

Thalia seems to grow a faint bit distracted as she gazes upon Zuhayr and Alaia. It's understandable, of course. It's been a long, eventful evening. One that promises to be longer still. The buzz of speech becomes more clear and she blinks, mutedly surprised, as she catches the tail end of the conversation. Dinner? Babies? The entertainment of childbirth? That's what she gets for not paying complete attention. The momentary slip in her expression is chased away and replaced with a resplendent smile.

On the dais, Zuhayr cannot help but smile, though it is slight. Pride, however, cannot be dimmed in his eyes, as he nods agreement. "She is tired, I think, Most High, and truly, I would not have brought her, but she was eager to see you, to offer her wishes to the Maharani," he adds, bowing toward Thalia himself, "and to have you meet these two boys who could not wait to meet you, Amir-al. We hope, for their sakes, that you will forgive their impatience."

On the dais, full, red lips curve into a grand smile as Khalid utters to Zuhayr, "The loyalty and fervor of your consort is not easily forgotten by the Crown." His blue eyes flicker over Alaia's form as he murmurs, "I am glad you have come this eve, despite your own pain and exhaustion." Beckoning with his hand, he motions for the twins to be brought forward.

On the dais, Rabi's pen pauses, oh how it pauses. She is a scribe, yes, but also a mother and her eagerness to see the babies eclipses her own loyalty to her work... for the time being, at least.

One twin having been propped on each shoulder, the selected shudra Khadisha steps forth to present the healthy boys.

On the dais, Rabi smiles as she cranes her neck to see. They look so much more adorable when they're not covered with blood and lymph and other lovely birth fluids. Her eyes find Alaia and they dance with radiant joy, sparkling -- under her veils, she is grinning broadly.

"What are their names?" Khalid's voice carries, perhaps, from the dais as he extends his hands towards the first child. It is obvious he expects the boy to be given over to him.

The first child is given over, immediately cuddling against the warm, strong touch of the God-King.

Thalia leans forward a faint bit, her expression eager as she looks upon the infants. She is a mother, after all, and the sight of the boys makes her think back on when her own children were that small. Hesitantly, she holds out her hands. "May I?" she asks, her eyebrows lifted hopefully. Guess she wants to hold Baby Number Two.

On the dais, as the first child is handed over, Zuhayr straightens, broad shoulders seeming even broader in the moment. "If it pleases you, Most High, they will be named Adri," and as the second is passed with utmost care to Thalia, he continues, "and Jibril."

May she? She's the blo..err.. She's the Queen, is Thalia! Automatically the second, healthy boy is shifted, plucked, and systematically handed forth, a quiet little gurgle eliciting from within him.

Repeated nods are given to Shinjukou following her words to Elania. Softly, most of the nervous warble smoothed from her voice, the promise, "Elania remembers," is given. Her bottom lip disappears as she starts discreetly nibbling it again, fingers arranging into a new pattern of woven knuckles. What's to be nervous about, right? It's only the God-King and his Queen, after all. No potential problems here. Of course not.

On the dais, Rabi smiles again, eyes tearing up with delight as she oh-so-carefully commits those two most important names to the record she is keeping of the night and its events.

On the dais, "Mm. He is strong. Like his father." Khalid cradles the child within his grasp for a long moment, before planting a kiss on its forehead. Studying the babe for many moments, he closes his wings around the child. When the cloak of black is drawn back, a single ebon feather lays in the child's clutches. "I like the names. They are good names. They will be good Agni-Haidar. Like their father." He goes so far as to favor Alaia with a faint smile. "And have the kindness of their mother." He extends his hands, giving up his half of the twins.

Alms for the poor! Twins for the shudra! The first is taken with a beaming grin, as though Khadisha had something to do with the whole conceiving-birthing thing.

Thalia smiles softly, cradling the babe in her arms. She is completely comfortable, completely at ease, as she rocks the child very slightly. "Jibril is a good name." is murmured, her voice soft like a lullaby being sung, and it is clear that the words are being delivered more to the gurgling infant than the others on the dais. A glance flits over to Khalid, the Queen observing him with Adri, and she then mimics his actions. A kiss and a white feather later, she is handing the child back. "They are beautiful."

On the dais, Alaia blushes ferociously once more, a huskily whispered 'thank you' directed at her God-King as Alaia tiredly inclines her head once more. Curtseying is, as it happens, out of the question, as she'd be flat on her face within a second's span.

Rabi grins again -- thank goodness for the veil! She resolves to visit Alaia and help her sew the feathers into the babies blankets, if she likes, as Rabi did for Jaimizal. Such blessings... she lets out a little sigh and bows her head over her work. There is a heaven for the faithful, right here on earth.

On the dais, Zuhayr is fit to burst. He will attempt not to do so on Khalid's feet, or Thalia's lovely gown. Instead, he parts from Alaia a moment, to kneel as he should have before, forehead pressed to the dais beside Khalid's foot. Thalia, too, is honored, in this same manner.

Smiling faintly down on Zuhayr, Khalid raises his hand so as to motion for Zuhayr to stand. "I am pleased this night, Kaimakam. Now go and take care of your consort and children."

Automatically Alaia's knees buckle. Whether from the lack of strength or support, or from the need to mimic Zuhayr's motions, Alaia's veils press against the floor as well.

On the dais, Thalia nods, concerns sweeping over her features. She is uncertain is Alaia is kneeling or has just flat out collapsed. "Thank you for standing witness to our marriage. Please, go and be well." A glance is cast toward Khalid. A questioning one.

Zuhayr rises and helps Alaia both to her feet, then down the dais.

On the dais, Khalid says quietly, under his breath, "Just a little longer, my Queen."

Rabi smiles and gestures with her pen towards Shinjukou, Vayu, and Elania. She catches an errant drop of ink that wants escape, a black spot appearing in her palm.

On the dais, Khalid's blue eyes flicker over Shinjukou as he expands, "It would be rude if both of us were not in attendance for the Crown Princess."

Movement is infinitely preferring to stillness, when one is required to stand, and when one is of a race used to the buoying support of water on all sides. In her time on the land, Shinjukou has gained a certain grace made all the more delicate by the required slowness with which it is performed. Tiny steps lead her up to the dais, where she performs the formal gesture of respect -- fingers to heart, then extended towards those there -- before executing a deep bow.

Looking honestly just a tad tired, Khalid inclines his chin towards Shinjukou with all the respect one would expect that a Crown Princess of the Atlanteans would deserve. He murmurs, "Please rise," to those who have become before him. His fiery blue eyes flicker over the forms of the Atlantean, the Varati and the graisha. Quite a grouping.

Elania holds her breath for a second when Rabi gestures to her. The scribe is certain it's their turn? Maybe... oh, all the servants and waitstaff needs to go first? Then again, surely the God-King and Queen would be cranky by the end of all that. Better to go now. Her fingers tighten 'round each other, then loosen, hands slipping to her sides, and she ascends after Shinjukou in a lazy flurry of fringed silk, wispy red hair, and the silvery laughter of her anklet. Rather than performing the Atlantean greeting -- which she would, if she'd thought ahead to practice it, muttergrumble -- she ducks her head and bows deeply, trying not to look too nervous. Anyone have the heart not to break the bad news to her? She straightens at the God-King's words, and immediately begins re-worrying her lip.

Rabi looks over each of the newcomers before bowing her head over her paper and work.

Lifting from the bow, Shinjukou directs her gaze first to the God-King, then to the Queen who sits at his side, offering a smile that seems almost sympathetic once one chips away the formal ice that has returned to her serene bearing. Taking a moment to gather the words needed into orderly lines within her mind -- so inconvenient, this vocal talk, she could save them all the trouble of extended conversation if they were only Atlantean -- the Crown Princess states simply, "My brother wished me to convey to you that the people of the Orcinus Decemvirate send their congratulations, and wish happiness, and an eternity of peace, for this union. It is with regret that Orcinus Kuronbo was unable to pass these words on himself, but he required rest after his recent recovery. I would like to express my deepest thanks, as well, for all that the Varati people have done to aid the Orcinus and extend my own personal congratulations."

Thalia's soft, grey gaze, a bit veiled in its weariness, pauses on each person in turn: Vayu, Elania, Shinjukou. As tired as she is, an elegant smile is not prevented from sweeping across her lips as she nods to those before her. Although interest colors her attention in regards to each individual, she pays special attention to the Crown Princess.

And Elania -- that is, Orcinus Shinzou -- tries to follow the Crown Princess' instructions, by standing there, still as is possible for a fox-graisha to be when not hunting mice, and look pretty. Her attention is focused on a spot near the floor of the dais, between the thrones.

"Your thanks is well-received, Crown Princess, and the Varati know well of the Orcinus' regard for our people, for we mirror such feelings for your own nation. You do us honor by attending as you have with the Major Domo and other members of your household." Clearing his throat, Khalid continues, "I do look forward to the Heir-Apparent speaking with us very soon. There are several issues that need to be discussed. The Queen has been appraised on all manners of business between the Varati and the Orcinus, and it is my desire that she conduct negotiations in my stead, since I am may be detained on other matters when your brother comes to call."

"It is an honor rewarded by the joy of being able to see Ushas-Gah, and attend such a momentous event." The Atlantean woman dips into another bow -- this one somewhat abbreviated, given the weariness that all but rolls from the newly-married couple in heavy waves. When she straightens, ice-chip eyes rest for a long moment upon Thalia, smiling but obviously taking a moment for respectful study. "I will be sure to inform my brother. He was unhappy that he was unable to be here, at the reception, himself, and looks forward to meeting you, to discuss those matters that need to be resolved."

Elania is... still silent and looking pretty. She hopes. She could learn to be pretty good at this cute-and-silent routine, though the practice is a bit nerve-wracking. She's just an oddly-shaped shadow next to Shinjukou, honest, your God-Kingliness and Queenship.

"Very well. I am sure we will speak more either here or back in Atesh-Gah. Once more, the Crown thanks you for your generous words." Khalid graces Shinjukou with a final nod, though he turns sharply inquisitive eyes on Elania, as if appraising her worth and substance. Still, he says quietly, "And to you, graisha of the Orcinus."

"It is my deep pleasure to meet you, Crown Princess, and to have been gifted with your presence at our wedding." Her voice, although weighed down by fatigue, has a gentle pitch and a confident measure. "I look expectantly to that time which will allow me to make your brother's acquaintance." Thalia nods respectfully to Shinjukou before drifting her attention over Elania and Vayu, nodding to them as well.

Rabi continues to work steadily in her task of committing words to paper, a constant marching of newly-born letters in neat and even rows. She works with serene patience: all is right with the world and there is a joy captured in her writing to reflect that.

Oh Gods, why does the God-King always seem so interested in her? It causes Elania no end of consternation. Then again, that might be the reason he does it. He's not the God of Sweet and Friendly Things, after all. And what's this about generous words? She's not supposed to say something, is she? Nope. Not going to happen, not tonight; she peeks up at the God-King for the briefest of moments, bobs a little two-stroke nod, and follows quick as can be after Shinjukou.

Khalid, Thalia, Shinjukou, and Elania descends from the dais.

(Everyone heads into the atrium to view the fire-show).

[Entrance Atrium - Ushas-Gah - Masada]

Torches are extinguished, obscurity descends, and silence engulfs the festivities with a tingling sense of anticipation. Whispers follow, the air becomes incarnate, and above the heads of the ceremony's guests bursts a cornucopia of color. The skies themselves at Armageddon could not rival what follows: a veritable devastation of darkness in which streaks of flame compete for domination above, courtesy of the fingers and creative souls of Khalid Atar's Atarvani. Khalida colors prevail: ruby conflagrations burn across the obsidian atmosphere, vying with jagged spates of cerulean blue like heaven-sent bolts of lightning. Amidst them all, sparking outward like Polaris bedazzled, erupt two dozen golden sunbursts that dismiss shadows from every fingerlength of the atrium, before a respite occurs and matters briefly dim.

Rabi, freed from her duty as scribe, slips up behind her Imphadi as he settles into his place of guarding, he and the rest of the Agni-Haidar arrayed in a broad crescent behind the smaller crescent that forms the Queen's guard. Boldly, she tucks her hand into his, leaning lightly against his thickly-muscled, thickly-scarred arm as she tilts her head back and looks up, watching the first mage-induced fire explode and dance across the vara's ceiling. He does not pull away, although he does not otherwise react either, but for Rabi that suffices as affection. The immensity of the place almost overwhelms her, somehow being more profound than the skill and might of the magic itself.

In the time allowed for pupils to contract and vision to adjust again, as heart palpitations cease, the Atarvani renew the convocation of flames and flares across the atrium. Angrily now does the deftly wrought incandescence shoot spirals upward, boiling a reddish gold inferno from the very treetops. Ashen streaks tumble over themselves, threatening onlookers with fiery dispatch until realization dawns that no heat accompanies the conflagration, and before the afterglow is all that remains of this demonstration, a path of bubbling red like a flow of lava has rent the dark ceiling of the vara in twain, as if the ground itself had expunged its molten core. Then all is silent again.

From the red river that continues to throb overhead, a red dragon rises. Red-gold scales glitter across a chest that could not be penetrated by a thousand spears while gold claws attempt to rip asunder the velvet curtain that separates it from its prey. Great red wings beat orange flames against the black backdrop as the monster gains ascendancy over the darkness, then with a giant roar, it belches a huge stream of flame. As if having poured out its entire essence, the dragon dies, crumbling to ash as its child grows and takes form as man, rather than beast. In a twinkling, the image of man born out of flames is gone as well, as if it never existed. Above, the canvas of the fire-mages' artistry is once again blank.

Shadows play across the uplifted faces of the atrium's occupants until the gathering of Atarvani again apply their magic and paint colorful images and shapes upon the inky canvas of the sky above. Where orange and red were earlier evidenced is now a palette of azure, aqua, seafoam, turquoise, even amethyst... who knew that fire-mages could produce such a dazzling array of blues and greens? Yet under the tutored guidance of the Akhunds, such springtime hues flourish. A garden of light blossoms throughout the air in volleys of violets, festoons of forsythia, torrents of tulips. So real are these kaleidoscope impressions that a subtle sensation of floral fragrance seems to permeate the obsidian locale. After the last bouquet of brightness fades, bedazzlement lingers on. What shall follow?

The absence of a horizon does not stop the soft bloom of pink and gold. The arrival of dawn finishes with an explosion of hot yellow. Blasting aside the glitters of pink and gold, a miniature sun of flares whitely against the darkness, then splits into multiple streamers of color. As the streamers move away from the horizon, all the colors of the rainbow flicker into existence, then the multitude merge to become the flaming tail of a firebird. As if having passed through a prism, the initial ball of white light ripples through all the possible hues, and settles on a glorious red. Still higher, the red bird rises, and at the apex of its flight, an explosion greater than the initial bang of its creation occurs. Tiny silver sparkles shower downwards in the aftermath, slowing forming into...

...an outline. Like tiny drops of dew, the silver sparkles outline the shape of the wyvern queen. The sparkles drop downwards to fill in the features of the God-King's steed, until her entire fierce shape is revealed, like one of the constellations in the heavens. In the darkness opposite, another gout of white light explodes like a nova and a second rain of silver stars begins. Soon, the wyvern is joined by the regal form of a griffin. Up above the atrium, the two steeds hover, and as if by trick of the tiny glittering balls of silver flame, their wings slowly beat.

The duo of silver hover for a few brief seconds before three rapid explosions in red, blue, and gold shatter the pristine darkness around them. As if this were a call to action, the griffin and wyvern begin to swirl about each other, showing the true talent and skill of the Atarvani fire-mages. The figures stay true to form throughout their movement. Faster and faster, the clusters of silver flame twist around a center point as wyvern and griffin swing in concert. Finally, the speed of the flight causes the two creatures to merge into one. The multitude of silver balls combine into one grand blazing orb. For a moment it pulses, then explodes outward in a prismatic ring that grows and expands until it covers the entire space overhead.

Within the growing ring of color, small balls of flame incandesce like fireflies, winking in and out. Reaching maximal width, the ring slowly, very slowly, begins to spin, and its shape distorts until instead of a flat ring, it is a swirling funnel. Then, like popcorn, bits and pieces of the swirl begin flying off: yellow sizzling spirals shoot off with a snaky hiss, bouncing green orbs bobble off with a springy twang, blue raindrops plummet downwards to disappear in the mist among the trees, gouts of orange shoot up into the air, miniature fireballs of red strike out in all directions. Finally, nothing is left, but darkness and silence.

Whispers puncture the silence in the wake of the last aerial demonstration of magical manipulation of light and color. Enough time passes that the eye again adjusts to the soft effulgence supplies for this presentation -- enough time that an anticipatory air again flitters through the spectators. No warning precedes the prodigious panorama that follows; striating the heavens are dexterously defined impressions of birds. An exultation of those creatures, in fact, dominates the atrium's higher elevations, while wings of both white and ebon feathers flutter forth on the largest pair of avian outlines: one predominately red, the other predominately bluish-white. These birds -- expanding to some thirty feet in length -- alter their appearance in steady steps of advanced evolution, transmuting into humanoid shapes until they take the guise of the Varati God-King and his new Queen. Separate, they indulge in lissome flights of fancy before, at last, entwining. Like a light-speckled pas de deux, the two merge into a solitary creation of brilliance, creating a confluence of color that explodes, like a sun gone supernova, into pristine light dotted with hundreds of golden starbursts that sparkle their way downward. Thus shall the marriage of Khalid Atar and Thalia, the union of Varati and Empyrean, bedazzle the lands with its glory.

And so the astral illumination again fades, leaving in its wake the implication of grandeur to come, the promise of a future incomparable in its individual splendor.

Standing beside his Queen, shaking a moment of intimacy, perhaps, Khalid watches the fireworks with a pleased smile. All in all, the night has gone smoothly and though it has been long, it has also been very rewarding. He casts a sidelong glance at Thalia as the last of the fireworks ends the night.

FIN  

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