Date: March 25, 1999
Place: Shrine to Vinita - Ushas-Gah - Masada
Cast: Altair, Anemone, Aurora (I), Callidora, Cepheus, Chana-Cari, Drusus, Elania, Faanshi, Hidenouri, Ilex, Khalid (I/III), Leonidas, Maat, Madirakshi, Medea, Mohan, Niamh, Oriane, Rabi, Riana, Sakhr, Shahar, Shinjukou, Siranae, StormBearer, Sunil, Tahira, Thalia (I), Vayu, Zuhayr
Emits: Faisal (Rabi), Kuronbo (Shinjukou), Maya (Medea), Rashid (Elania), Yoritomo (Shinjukou)
Scene: Khalid Atar, the God-King of the Varati and the "Divine Flame of Heaven," takes a wife at last; finding his equal in Thalia Jovia Tritonides, a noble-woman from one of the premier Houses in the Empyre. Their union may be met with anger by some, awe by others -- but only one thing is certain... both empires will be forever changed by what has happened this day.

Shrine to Vinita - Ushas-Gah - Masada:
      Matte black stone, solemn and contemplative, forms the basis of the shrine. Sight and sound disappear into the deep shadows lurking above and at thee edges of the room. Oval, the shrine forms a true ellipse; one focus is the raised dais at the front, the other focus is the rows of pews.
      Along the perimeter of the shrine, a wide trough spews yellow tongues of flame into the air, backlighting a series of pictures. Each picture is carved from paper-thin black rock. The incisions create a silhouette that resolves into various images of the darkling heroine Vinita, patriot and Dai, in the various actions of her life that led to her immortalization in legend and lore. The dancing flames make Vinita appear to move, as if her spirit and soul were captured in each silhouette. The entire length of her life is told: from her rejection of her Empyreal heritage, to her plea for the God-King to take her into service, to her leading the charge against Civitas Dei.
      At the end of her story sits a tall glass case holding two items: Vinita's medallion of the Dai and a crystal orb whose dark, milky interior contains her ashes. At this place, the ring of fire is broken by the presence of a pair of stoic Agni-Haidar and a watchful Atarvani Akhund.
      Rows of pews stretch into the nether regions of the darkness, illuminated only by a single lantern at the end of each row. Each lantern is enclosed by a casing of red quartz, giving the impression of warmth. A tier of red wax candles, for those seeking solace or meditative quiet in the dark embrace of the shrine, sits to the right of an archway that allows egress into the throne room. A path stretches through the middle of the pews from the archway to the dais.

Would that the shrine stretch out into monolithic infinity, a hollow song of the souls and minds of the Varati -- they would wait, chanting Khalid's name as a mantra against hopelessness, and greet him and his bride with one fist upraised in defiance of tradition. Alas, it is not to be, and all that remains is the cream of the political crop -- those that are the highest-ranking of all peoples, and the close friends of the bride.

Calm itself strides into the shrine, with long easy steps and dark eyes gliding around the room before the Warlord of Behzad enters further. A young slave catches the man's attention and directs him to his seat promptly.

Niamh moves into the shrine, offering obeisance to the God-King and his soon-to-be Queen. Silent prayers are on his lips and his mind as he moves to one of the quieter pews in the shadows.

StormBearer strides into the shrine, Hidenouri close behind, sitting near the back so as to observe the people easily. His herald's cloak is held tightly around him, and the crow upon his shoulder seems to be showing, of all things for an animal, respect in its posture.

Elania accompanies Vayu and the other attending Orcinus -- Shinjukou, Kuronbo, and Yoritomo -- in an excited little flurry of fringed silk and tiny, chiming bells. Green-gold eyes are rapt and wondrous-wide, trying and failing to look at everything and everyone at once, altogether overwhelmed with the whole affair.

A pair of Atlanteans enter, both tricked out in the finest of flowing robes -- worn solely for the considerations of modesty imposed by their hosts, no doubt, but worn with regal grace to be sure. Orcinus Kuronbo, Decemvirate-Apparent, walks alone now, his First Domo Orcinus Yoritomo having fallen back to walk not far from the Crown Princess, Shinjukou. The Princess accompanies both Vayu and Elania, contemplative gaze skimming her surroundings briefly before focusing upon the true centerpiece -- the dais. Murmuring a quiet excuse to her companions, she and the majordomo part ways with Sylvan and Varati, to follow the Orcinus Heir. A pew is chosen in which to rest feet still somewhat unused, in Shinjukou's case, to the rigors of extended walking.

More and more people arrive, filling the shrine and pulling Oriane out of her contemplation of the both revered and infamous Vinita. Turning to glance behind her at those assembling, dark eyes register surprise to see many familiar faces from Haven having made the arduous and long journey to Masada for the wedding. Empyrean faces only serve to heighten her self-consciousness, making her super aware of her coloring's similarity to the woman honored here and to the foreign clothing gracing her form.

Hidenouri follows the Zephir, her stride slow on the stone floor. Her face is impassive, but her eyes flicker around the room, with obvious interest and excitement. She quickly takes a seat beside StormBearer.

Shahar's entry is the accompaniment of Drusus and his band of oddly unarmed Praetorians, her four Agni-Haidar nearby as per the norm. As she nears the front of the shrine, she pauses long enough to offer obeisance to the front -- how does she kneel and bow so facilely in that sari? -- before a backward glance checks the position of Drusus et al.

In the monolithic infinity so wished for, there would be one -- close enough to the throne to be marked important, yet far enough not to seem overly ambitious; he would be dressed in white, and bear himself quietly on wings of austerity that would smother any who was not consummately sure of himself or of regal nature. He would be clad entirely in white, his hands would be clasped behind his back with squared shoulders and feet, and his name would be Vayu -- he would stare, ever watchful, upon any who would look upon his god-king.

Tucked. Yes, Annie, tucked is a good word, and it suits Riana's positioning to a T. She's been placed on her bench, like a doll put on display, and sits in as still a pose as she can hold. Though her eyes work curiously through the crowds, her mouth is held tightly closed. Yep, she's been tutored well in her duties for the day. Sit quietly, don't talk too much, and smile.

Tucked away among the crowds, near the rear of the shrine, the mostly unobtrusive form of the slim Varati, Sunil, bows as is appropriate for one sharing a room with a God. Moving then to find a place in the vaulted hall, he walks where directed to a place among the numerous Varati present who are of little import.

A rather nondescript arrival, Madirakshi enters with all the pomp of a church mouse, reserving the glory to those which it is due. A smattering of silent steps upon the polished floor fail to echo within the hallowed walls, it is uncertain whether the vacuous quiet is deliberate or drowned out by the buzzing din of the ceremonial congregation. Yet the shechah dallies not a moment find a place among other messengers of the one and only God.

Drusus enters from the throne room, past two Agni-Haidar providing excellent renditions of stone.

So... many... people. Alone -- with neither Kiera nor Murako nor Ulima to provide her consolation or companionship -- Faanshi focuses upon making herself a silent presence in scarlet and royal blue and gold, guiding important persons to their places and asserting her presence only as an occasional softly murmured word or a gentle gesture of a slender golden hand.

Madirakshi bows deeply along with them, catching a glance at the world below.

As quiet an entrance as a group of three people might make, the Archon of Haven, Cepheus Tritonides arrives with a pair of women at his sides. The first holds his arm and stands close, the Arch-Magus Medea Somnaire. The other remains near, though does not touch, the Avatarati Maya. The trio looks about until a seat is found, then quietly make their way while offering nods and quiet acknowledgments to those they see in passing.

Fingers curling around Riana's hand, Anemone murmurs, "Smile, Domina, because today is for your today is for your mother's glory and honor. Show everyone the gems she has already given the world!"

The clarion call of the single royal herald of Clan Khalida initiates the procession. Black and silver, dressed in their finest, four of the Agni-Haidar march forward through the center of the shrine, between the pews. Following them are four of the red-robed Atarvani. Markings on their robes signify their status -- all of them are Imams. A deadly and impressive mix of black, silver and red.

It is the next figure, who draws real attention, however. Khalid Atar, God of Immortality, Fire, War and perhaps even Creation itself, strides with purpose and poise, after the entourage assembled in his honor. Dressed in the finery of his Clan and bearing his infamous twin ebon blades, he moves towards the front of the shrine. Dark wings, glittering with the dust of stars, are folded gracefully against his back. Ending this display are yet another four red-robed Imam and a final set of Agni-Haidar.

Altair motions to Callidora with a bow, allowing her to sit before he does. He takes a moment to look around at the crowd, then shakes his head a moment. "Large weddings... Gods, please let me have just a small wedding in the near future, and I'll be most happy." He mutters it to himself, as if a silent prayer.

Ilex enters the shrine in much the same manner as her fellow Herald StormBearer: striding and with her cloak tightly wrapped about her. Her long red braid swings about as she looks at the people assembled. Finally, she seats herself next to StormBearer and Hidenouri.

How plain next to the finery of his guards, his head uncovered while theirs bear the magnificent bronze helms with their Greek-style plumes of bright scarlet. Drusus looks like a civilian next to them. He bows towards the front, inclining his head towards the King of the Varati and his Queen to be, and then steps off to the side. His guards likewise bow and array themselves behind him.

Siranae comes in place with those of the Delphi delegation, her gown of royal blue silk and ivory rustling slightly in the vaulted spaces as she moves forward. Neither to the right nor left does she look before taking her place as well within the honored guests of this company.

Another cry from the herald's trumpet lifts into the air, the sound rolling through the chamber to hush the crowd with it's singular note. It announces another procession, one which paces through the room on measured steps. First, Agni-Haidar guards, all silver and black. Next, the soft sway of red-robes as Atarvani trail in their wake. And then, splendor translated in white, silver and gold, this Empyrean woman who will be Queen. The gleaming purity of her wings has been dusted with gold and silver, catching light like stolen sunshine upon water and matching the aureate silks which swaddle her form. Her face is calm and this is for all to see, for she wears no veil, and the quiet confidence of her stride is guided by two of the followers of Ushasti, one on either side of her. She makes her way forward, joining Khalid Atar at the front of the shrine. If she is nervous, she does not show it, simply taking her place before the crystal case.

Chana-Cari moves away from the door, and her mother's side, to join a nearby pew. She quietly bows to Niamh and sits beside him, nervous from being in the presence of a god and so many people.

Dark eyes, attempting to hide a troubled expression in a gentle face, look behind to watch the arrivals. For a moment, Oriane's eyes widen and then she turns to face front, biting the inside of her lip. Hearing Anemone's words, she turns and looks at her sister and the long time family servant. Glancing to her hands in her lap, she takes a deep breath and then looks up towards the arrival of Khalid and then her mother. Her mother.

Maat continues to direct guests to the last few available seats, then takes a seat in the backmost pew. Her eyes glow with pride as she looks over the workmanship of her clan's premier tailor, Ranjeet, and how it hangs most beautifully on Khalid Atar and Thalia.

No sooner does the procession enter the shrine or people rise when they were seated, Sakhr Behzad no exception, waiting for his King and God to reach his destination. Awe is in his eyes, much like from one who is looking at a lifelong idol. The Queen to be is watched entering with less awe, a more weighing expression, but no less respectful.

Faisal has entered from another direction and stands near the front, his cold ebon gaze raking out of the crowd, distrusting every one of them that is not clad in his kind's black and silver. Rabi lowers herself to her knees and bows to the front and the god standing there, and to the Empyrean he has taken for his own. She rises and slips through the crowd, then, to find her place beside and behind the Agni-Haidar Nayaka.

The entrance of the procession and the god-king distracts Riana from her response to Anemone. With a practiced move, she carefully rises from her seat and bends to a gracefully arc-winged low bow. It's obvious she's been working on this for days, at least, and she achieves the move passably well.

The Shakir of Clan Khalida, staring with unbridled joy and admiration as the God-King passes by, murmurs unbidden, "Hail to the Amir-al; may he live a hundred thousand years!" before the arrival of the Queen Apparent steals what breath remains from her throat, and her bow is deep and heartfelt.

Mohan moves into the room. A gasp escapes the giant as he seeks a shadow. The God-King Himself. Hide in shadow. He finds the darkest, closest one, and slumps his form into it.

Amid so many faces, both foreign and familiar, dark-skinned and light, winged and ground-bound; one more hardly makes a difference. Aurora is an unobtrusive presence within the shrine; a pale, fey creature with serene grey eyes and folded wings. She stands in attendance, watching the faces of the various arrivals, and her gaze lingers most especially upon the proud, dark-winged figure of the God-King. The second procession drags her attention away at last, so that she might settle her regard upon the woman who will be Queen. Unnoticed amid the crowd, a vague smile curls her lips; one of approval, perhaps.

And there, standing before the crystal case of Vinita's remains, waiting with infinite patience in his regalia of crimson silk, is the Imam Rashid. To his side is a shaped-stone pillar; atop it is the Queen's Crown, elegant and exquisite upon its red pillow. Behind him and to his sides is a semi-circle of twelve Imam, bearing the same serene joy Rashid's face shows. This is their God-King's highest moment; through Him, it is theirs as well. And nothing shall go wrong.

The Imam waits for his King and Queen-To-Be to assume their places, then holds his hands out and up, palms upturned, waiting for silence. Once it has fallen, his hands return to his sides and he speaks. His voice is clear and deep as a bronze bell, burnished with years of service, as he says, "In the names of Ashur Masad, Father of the Divine Flame, and Ushas, Mother of Dawn, I welcome and bless all who have come here to witness the joining of Khalid Atar and Thalia Jovia Tritonides. Through the joining of these two, may our races be free of turmoil at last and a new future be seen."

Callidora smiles at Altair and holds his hand tight. Her attention strays to the God-King and his Empyrean Queen as the ceremony begins

Niamh offers a nod and a small smile to Chana-Cari as she sits beside him, but his attentions is his attentions is drawn back almost immediately to the ceremony.

Nodding concurrence to this initial sally from the Imam, Anemone squeezes Riana's hand all the more and beams at Oriane as if to say, See? A day of joy. Don't worry; be happy.

As many folk seated as she can escort before the procession begins, Faanshi melts to a position at the very outer reaches of the shrine. She clasps her hands at her breast, incapable of speech, very nearly incapable of breath, as the spectacle begins to unfold before all those assembled. Now no longer aware of the gathering even as nothing more than a mighty crowd in which she is a single shudra worthy of no notice, the halfbreed girl gazes with fervent, reverent eyes upon her God-King.

Altair is gentle with Callidora's hand, caressing. He looks to the God-King and his Queen-to-be, watching in quiet silence.

Like a parting sea of red, black and silver, the Agni-Haidar and the Imam veer off to the sides and take their place, watching, as Khalid stands before Imam Rashid Khalida. Ebon wings part slightly, then fold against his back once more as the God-King of the Varati awaits his bride-to-be. Silky black hair has been left free and uninhibited, so as to fall in waves to his waist. Atop his brow, the crown of the Varati empire sits, glittering with the reflections of the fires of Vinita's candles. Crystal blue eyes, fiery and intense as always, regard the face of the aging Imam, before cutting to the side so as to watch Thalia's approach, before another glance is spared to those who have come this day. He is otherwise utterly impassive and silent.

Zuhayr, present among those black-and-silver clad warriors, stands as rigidly as his brothers-in-arms, though his eyes, like the Nayaka's, do not cease moving. He stands across from the Nayaka, the better to catch those who might seek a time and place to voice their disagreement, especially here and now.

Don't worry; be happy. So easy to suggest and attempt, but it is not quite within Oriane to completely hide away her emotions. Not anymore at least. Raven black wings flutter slightly behind her, dusted in the sparkle of silver and gold as decoration. For now, she watches Thalia move to the side of the man to become her husband.

Chana-Cari watches the God-King in awe, eyes not straying once. She doesn't even look away to see where her mother sits.

Her wings flare briefly, a motion that seems a light reflection to the God-King's dark. White and black, soft and hard. Where he is the blazing fire, she is the cool air. So different. Can there truly be a new future, free of turmoil, when there are such extreme contrasts involved, contrasts that lay like a vast river parting the two? Time. Time will tell. For the present, Thalia simply turns soft-grey eyes to Imam Rashid Khalida, after affording Khalid Atar a swept glance -- a brief touch of her gaze over the planes and angles of his face.

Rabi folds her hands in front of her, eyes drinking in the sight of everything with a deep and eager thirst. They shine with her joy at the day, the events of the day, at the history of it all. And here stands the mouse, to see it, to be a part of it. The honor of it fills her heart. She glances up at the chill and forbidding form of her Imphadi but even his stern and earnest countenance can do naught but make her grin happily under her veil. Golden eyes return to the front, skipping over the supernatural form of her god, examining his Empyrean bride. Another soft smile of joy lights her features under the fall of her veil.

The Imam does not waver or flinch when his God's eyes fall upon him; he simply closes his eyes for a moment, and inclines himself in the slightest of bows. As Khalid's attention moves to Thalia, so does his; he bows as before, straightens, eyes momentarily hooded as he composes his thoughts. "It is in the spirit of Ashur Masad and Ushas that this wedding is held, for their story holds many truths for the two here before us. Like the Father of the Sun and the Mother of Dawn, each was mighty in their own way; like them, each has given a part of themselves to create something greater than that which made it. This new creation, the joining of the Varati and the Empyre, is greater than either was alone, and it is in this light that we all bear witness to these vows."

StormBearer's eyes pan across the multifarious crowd, but also watches the procession itself. He takes in the splendor of the bride and groom, remembering it, making an image in his mind. Need to remember long enough to write all this down. The crow on his shoulder is hunched respectfully and it seems to know just what's going on, but it really can't because birds aren't that smart.

The Varati are a proud people, the Khalida no different in this respect, and Shahar stands straight and bedazzled in the glory of her people, her God-King, her future Queen. No egotistical claiming this: she is content to share with all others the wonder that is Khalid Atar and Thalia, and tears of indescribable delight shimmer in her golden green eyes. Upon her countenance shines the hope that is so eloquently promised in the Imam's words.

In an echoing mimicry of the dark and light wings of those who will be joined this day, Thalia's daughters stand at the front of the witnesses. The shimmer of Riana's wing brushes nervously once against the ebon of her sister's. Contrast, there may be, but the two stand close, and Riana reaches with her free hand for Oriane's.

Anemone, no daughter of Thalia's but with Oriane and Riana nonetheless, has no intention in loosening her grip on the latter's fingers, and she is smiling encouragingly at the vision that is Thalia.

Ilex does not seem to be paying as much attention as her fellow Herald. Yes, she is watching the ceremony with a respectful attentiveness, but occasionally her pale eyes wander to look round the shrine, or she barely nods her head in what seems to be a silent prayer.

Tiny graisha-fingers pluck nervously at both Vayu and Shinjukou as Elania watches the God-King and Queen-to-be. So alien, all of this; so overdone and official and glamorous. Then again, the Varati wouldn't be nearly as fearsome -- and the Empyrean, not nearly as imposing -- if this sort of thing was done by dancing naked around a fire and shacking up in a leather lean-to, would they? Nervous curiosity glimmers bright in green-gold eyes as she settles herself down slightly, and continues to watch.

"When time was barely a concept realized and when the universe was still young, my father Ashur Masad asked my mother Ushas, to be his consort." Khalid's voice is heard for the first time, moments after the Imam's own remarks. "She was a Goddess in her own right and her power was as great as his. She ruled her own domain and held herself above most of creation. Still, she saw wisdom in this union and so they joined as two different people, to form a great alliance. In the spirit of my parents' pledge to one another, we are here today." Saying these few words, the God-King of the Varati lapses into silence and nods towards the Imam once more. Black wings stir slightly, as if impatient with the whole proceedings, and gold dust flickers off of his wings to fall towards the floor in a sparkling display.

Blinking dark, expressive brown eyes, Oriane glances to her side at her golden sister and an expression of guilt washes briefly over her face. For Riana, she summons a soft smile and delicate, ink-touched fingers immediately entwine with her sister's. Rather than pulling her black wings back from her sister's invading white ones, she instead leaves the wing extended so that their feathers may brush against one another in what might be a comforting manner.

The words, both those of the Imam and the God-King, grow larger within the echo this voluminous chamber provides. They take on a life of their own, reminiscent of the deeply-pitched beating of a drum -- something that is more felt within one's very core than heard. Thalia follows the imagery woven by language and tongue, shifting her attention between the aged, red-robed man and Khalid Atar. Unlike those belonging to the Amir-al, her wings remain motionless, neatly tucked against her back. She is one of patience; one of steady calm. The Empyrean woman listens, pays attention and waits. Waits for the moment she is to accept her destiny, her future -- whether it be good or bad.

Medea lightly touches Cepheus' hand as they sit there in silence. As she leans forward just enough to look past him to Maya, she smiles on seeing the pride shining in her expression, as is shown so greatly in the faces of all the Varati present. A nod, then she finds herself sitting back. A look to beside her finds her surprised to see Siranae Acesius, and after a very soft whisper of greeting, her attention returns to the ceremony at hand.

Maat's eyes are both full of pride and nervous worry. Thankfully, her face is hidden and thus only the beaming golden orbs are exposed to any censure, though as all eyes are on the ascendant stars, the lines of tension around her eyes are easily missed and overshadowed by the fierce pride that emanates from every pore of her being as she listens to her King and God and his Imam.

Leonidas settles into a soldier's repose, arms clasped behind his back, beneath his wings, attention on the ceremony itself, and mask of polite interest worn openly for all to see. For all those who might, for reasons unfathomable, be watching the winged man.

The Imam straightens despite a lack of previous slouching, eyes sharpening to a keen, scrutinous edge. He looks to both bride and groom, assessing, studying; he has done this before, and negated the ceremonies when he found one or the other lacking some vital trait in his eyes. Not merely a meaningless part of the ceremony, but a true ordeal. A soul-searching. He meets his God's eyes as evenly as he met Thalia's, and after several seconds seems to return to himself, and nods. "It is time," he announces, "for Khalid Atar and Thalia Jovia Tritonides to exchange their vows of offering and acceptance. In the name of Ashur Masad and Ushas, I call upon all to listen, and all to make witness." He takes a half-step back. Silence.

With wide, golden-flecked eyes, Chana-Cari watches the God-king as he speaks, the transfixed on the proceedings.

Where the Lords of War are seated, no murmur comes, no tears shine, no muscle moves, all eyes locked on the scene before them. They could be brothers, the way their manner is so alike, apart from the difference in Clan colors they wear with pride this day.

Shahar is a single strand of rapturous attention at the bidding from the Imam and at the caress of Khalid's unequaled tones upon her aural senses. Likely as no, she will forget to breathe, so riveted by the moment is she.

As bidden, Drusus listens, expression inscrutable.

Acknowledging the Imam's words with a slight inclination of his chin, Khalid turns away from the man and reaches for the Queen's Crown that rests in the comfortable layers of the red, satiny pillow. Taking it within his hands, he turns to Thalia and murmurs quietly, "I, Khalid Atar, ask you in the presence of the people of Aether and in the heart of my empire, whether you shall accept me as your husband." Each word is spoken with grave meaning, as if the world itself depended on the answer to this question. The crown glitters as its gold is reflected by the fiery light of the candles of the shrine. It is a work of art, shape-crafted from the finest mages of the Varati empire and adorned with rubies and sapphires -- the colors of Clan Khalida. The center stone is black, matching that of the God-King's own crown.

Siranae merely quirks one auburn-gold brow in Medea's direction, before turning to regard the joining of Thalia Tritonides and Khalid Atar with a thoughtful expression. No overjoyed expression of rapture can be seen for one of race joined to the Varati God-King, but no burning rage is evident either. No, this one seems to take a more wait-and-see attitude. Her gaze does travel over to the new Princeps however, and a faint softening can be seen in her sapphire gaze as she nods faintly in his direction.

Silence and stillness from the delegation of Orcinus royalty. All three -- Kuronbo, Shinjukou, Yoritomo -- watch with eyes that betray nothing, expressions that appear quiet and mildly thoughtful as the words spoken upon the dais swell to fill the room. There is no question that remarks are being exchanged between the three, but no sign of it is given outwardly. True spectators, and nothing more, these sculptures of onyx, alabaster and mother-of-pearl.

White wings, with a scattering of scarlet ones stir behind Callidora's back, opening and spreading behind her slender back and narrow waist, touching her companions' in the process. Her bright, emerald-green eyes watch the great interest as the ceremony gets under way, she smiles a little as her gaze moves over the God-King with wings like her own, but dark in color, perhaps her smile is one of hope that she will finally be able to see peace between the Varati and Empyrean races with the joining of these two persons.

Anemone has a tendency to squirm, but not this night. Her purpose, other than comfort and support for her Domina and the future Queen, is to prevent squirming from Riana. Hence the unrelieved grip of hand upon hand. But then... maybe that is to prevent Annie herself from squirming?

A thousand pairs of eyes watch. A thousand sets of ears listen. This is an intense moment, over a millennium in the making. All that Was has come to Be, gathered in a handful of minutes and heartbeats. Thalia meets the Imam's gaze with steady eyes, flickering candlelight dancing within their blue-grey depths, and listens to him with quiet intent. Now. The time has come. She turns to Khalid as the words linger in the air, the silks of her attire whispering through the shift. Everything narrows down, stops, and fades to mere static as she focuses her attention on the God-King. Breathe in. Pivotal moments in one's life -- do they all slow down like this? Become sharp in substance and form? As he finishes speaking, she lifts her voice to answer, dipping her head in a single nod as she does so. "I, Thalia Tritonides, come of my own will and conviction, to accept you as my husband. Let the world stand witness." Breathe out.

Into the silence following the Imam's serious words comes the sussuration of feathers. Perhaps forgetting herself slightly in the majesty of the ceremony, Riana begins a slow shifting from foot to foot, her wings brushing against both Oriane's and Anemone's, and loosing a great deal of gold and silver powder in the process. Eyes widening above the line of her veil, her gaze is fixed upon the crown being presented to her mother, and a not-so-quiet "ooooooh" emanates from her direction. They can grip the hands, but a gag upon the Queen's daughter might be a bit unseemly.

A small gasp from Shahar at the dignity and presence thusly presented in so few words from the woman she shall soon call Queen, and a mouthed prayer of thanksgiving is silently winged upward from her parted lips... even if the one to whom she prays is presently distracted.

Those fateful words are spoken and allowed to echo within the chamber that is the shrine to Vinita. Khalid gazes upon Thalia with those large, fiery blue eyes of his, filled with uncertain emotion. Quietly, his words follow, "I, Khalid Atar, God-King of the Varati, Divine Flame of Heaven and son of Ashur Masad and Ushas, do accept you as my wife, Thalia Tritonides. Let the world stand witness." Ebon wings bristle at this statement, but the lord of the Varati stands his place. The Varati empire has been forever changed with those simple words. He murmurs, "Kneel before me, Thalia Tritonides, to be crowned Queen of the Varati."

Rabi finds that she has been holding her breath. She lets it out, a gentle stream of air that sets her veils to a faint shimmering.

Despite herself and despite the worry weighing too heavily on her soul, Oriane smiles. An honest, gentle and loving smile that's directed at her sister. It may be inappropriate and may garner the golden twin glares from other corners of room, but somehow it is reassuring to the darkling daughter of the Varati Queen that amid it all, her sister is still... Riana. Squeezing her sister's hand, Oriane turns her eyes and watches the crown presented to her mother and the ceremony continue. The smile fades, but the overwhelming worry does not quite return in the same force as before.

His response, the words which fashion it, slips about her and presses into her soul. Outwardly, Thalia seems calm. At peace. Her body is that of still, graceful lines, tranquillity smoothing the gold-kissed feathers of those white wings lying quietly against her back. Inside? Oh, how her heart pounds! Certainly, the sound of it must fill the room to drown out everything else. As she starts to kneel, her gaze lowers to the floor, to her feet. All the steps she's taken in life, from the unsteady lurching of her toddling youth to the confident strides used to cross this room, has led her to this moment. Drifting to her knees with the grace of an apple blossom coaxed to the ground by a gentle breeze, her wings spread momentarily in order to lend her balance. Once settled, her eyes do not remain submissively lowered but lift up to look upon the God-King of the Varati. Her husband. Her husband.

Anemone leans her cheek on Riana's shoulder in unbidden show of affection for the two sisters, like Oriane, content that amidst all this change and alteration and joining and whatnot a sliver of normality and consistency remains.

Hidenouri watches the two intently until Thalia gives her assent. Then, the Atlantean seems to lose interest in the ceremony itself. Her pale, cool eyes begin to wander around the shrine again, pausing briefly on the Orcinus royalty, and continuing her keen gaze around the room, and finally resting on StormBearer.

Altair holds Callidora closer to him as he watches the ceremony, his wing wrapping warmly around her. A smile forms on his face as he looks on, hoping that, despite anything anyone thinks or feels, that this is the beginnings of true peace at last.

"On this day you kneel before me -- for it is the last time you shall kneel before man or god -- I name you Thalia Jovia Tritonides Khalida, Queen of the Varati, and my equal." Fiery blue eyes, churning with raw emotion, meet Thalia's own as Khalid gazes upon his wife and Queen. With steady hands, the God-King of the Varati lowers the crown atop his Empyreal bride's golden tresses; it is a perfect fit, a crown forged for her alone. "In this shrine to an Empyrean who was Varati, I renew the ties between our people. They were forged in war, with the coming of Vinita. Now, they are made in peace with the coming of you, my Queen. As pain, blood and fire ruled during the time of my greatest Dai, let peace, harmony, and unity shine through the years of the first Queen since I have sat in the grand throne of the Varati empire." Taking a single step back, he beckons for Thalia to rise as he murmurs, "Stand once more and kneel never again to any creature in all of existence. You are the Queen of the Varati and bend knee to none." His words are like the end of a storm, the soft calm after the rage of nature has abated.

Ivory wings that have lain still; flat and folded against the back of a regal Empyrean woman, now stir to life. Only marginally, as if moved by a breath of wind. Or by some untold emotion summoned forth by the gravity of this scene. Aurora listens to the exchange of vows and the promise of a changed future, and into her clear grey eyes steals the shimmering translucence of tears. They do not fall, and are eventually blinked away so that she might resume her previous calm demeanor.

Wedded. To the Khalid. It is a notion which Faanshi's young mind can barely encompass -- Mother of the Dawn, marriage is a startling enough notion as it is! The shudra girl, red-and-blue-and-gold-clad shadow in the very back of the shrine, stops all her thinking for the time being. Later, she will reflect upon what she has been granted the privilege to witness; for now, she will simply absorb it, wide-eyed, rapt.

Niamh lets out a breath he has been holding for some time, trying to calm the churning in his gut. It will be a great adjustment to make... far more difficult than any he has had to make in his young life. But with determination, he vows to adjust.

Rabi smiles again under her veil. She steals a glance at the figure standing tall and forbidding beside and before her, then looks over the crowd quickly before her gaze flicks back to the front.

Ebon eyes close, and Zuhayr bows his head, briefly, to murmur a prayer that might sound like the sliding of granite against marble to those unfamiliar with his voice. A prayer of gratitude and blessing, uttered with pure faith. When he falls silent, his eyes open again, and he watches his King and Queen with pride.

Relief and renewed adoration for the God-King and for the new Queen suffuses Shahar's expression at this vehement declaration from Khalid Atar himself, and she adds her own singular nod of confirmation and agreement.

Unlike the withheld tears of Aurora, Riana's begin cascading down almost as soon as Khalid's words cease echoing in the room. Oh! Mummy looks so beautiful, and Oh! Doesn't her new husband look so handsome, and Oh... dear. Whatever brilliant person decided her eyes should be lined with kohl, should be given a severe lecture, for now lines of black run downward to pool at the top of her veil. With both hands tightly held, the Empyrean girl can do little more than nudge at her cheeks with her shoulder. Gee, that makes nice smudges. Look, everyone. The Queen's daughter is setting a new style in makeup.

As Khalid's last words command her mother to rise and kneel no more, Oriane lets her eyes fall to the ground and her eyes close. Shutting out the shrine and the ceremony for a brief moment, the Queen's darkling daughter mourns the marriage that once was, but had to die for this moment... A death like so many lost in the war now ending with marriage vows. Taking a deep, soft breath, she opens her eyes once more, expression resolute as she looks upon her mother and her new husband.

StormBearer watches the ceremony with interest blazing like a bonfire in his green eyes. Marriage for the God-King? The idea now fully hits him, and he begins to think of this and other things as he watches the proceedings of this joyous occasion, joyous for those involved at least.

Anemone is not especially in a better position than the two daughters Oriane and Riana, but she is here for them, and, loosening her hold on Riana's hand, she steps behind them and curls an arm around each, silently supportive.

As the crown is placed upon her head, Thalia releases a soft breath. There is so much more weight to it than the physical. This is not a marriage of love; there is no giddy swell of emotion. However, despite the heavy responsibility which cloaks her now, a faint smile curves across her lips. Blue-grey eyes remain on Khalid as she finds her feet once more, rising up in a fluid motion. For a moment, her world remains focused and the rest of the existence is forgotten in one last taste of solitude. It is done. Taking her gaze off her husband, she now turns to the assemblage, drawing herself up straight with her chin faintly lifted. She fans out her wings, a splendor of gold and silver that seems to bow to the crown she wears.

A huzzah, heartfelt and splendid in its emotion, comes immediately from Shahar's throat for the Queen, for the marriage, for future before the freshly joined peoples of the Empyre and Varati. In the eyes of the Shakir, at least, all is well.

The four Praetorians shift, their magnificent plumes bobbing as they turn their heads and glance at one another. Their lips move, a soft murmur passes between them, the words hidden by the tumultuous cries. Drusus himself remains motionless, still observing quietly.

From the throats of the more impulsive Varati all across the shrine, cheers and hosannas rise up in response to the figure of she who has been made Queen. Among them all, Faanshi sketches across her breast the sigil of Ushas that her great-aunt, her heart-mother Ulima, taught her, and invokes to herself that great Lady's holy name, unable to think of anything else to utter in the majesty of the moment. Her head bows automatically, her very being struck to the core.

So this is how the 'civilized' do it. No wild celebrations and giddy-glorious cheering, no passionate embrace once the Shaman--er, Imam has declared it blessed and done? Oh, it's awe-inspiring and impressive, truly, but for one small and furry soul in the crowd, it seems a little... off. Like a piece of driftwood shaped into something elegant-odd by the water and then sculpted by hand into a less-perfect shape. Elania cocks her head to the side, chin uptilted, ruddy brows gently furrowed. Perhaps there will be bonfires and naked dancing later.

Khalid Atar stands before Thalia, waiting for his wife and Queen to rise. Turning his gaze outwards, upon those who have come to witness this union, he searches the crowds with that unflinching blue gaze of his. Slowly, his eyes refocus on Thalia's own face, as he speaks, "All know this is a political marriage. Many may think it has no passion, no fire and will not last. In the faces of some, I see their doubt." His lips twist into a thoughtful repose, before he speaks again, "When Ushas came to Ashur, she came of her own free will. She knew the wisdom in the union, and though she was unlike him in all ways, as darkness differs from light, she grew to love him. Their passion is legendary and it has withstood the test of time. It was more than a simple alliance. It was a true union. And from that union, the world was changed -- altered and forever marked with a special greatness. This is my hope for us. For our people." Stepping within inches of his Queen, the God-King of the Varati raises his hands to draw those slender tendrils of golden hair away from her face, before cupping her soft cheeks within his firm grasp. And then as star-touched ebon wings rise high in a majestic salute, the lord of the Varati presses his lips fully upon the mouth of the Queen of the empire.

"Ohhhhhh...." whispers Anemone at this declaration and the kiss which follows, and if her tears and if her tears were not flowing before, they certainly tumble now.

Rabi's breath catches in her chest.

Feeling Annie at her shoulder, Oriane glances away from her mother towards the faithful woman beside her. A faint flicker of a smile attempts to cross her lips before letting her eyes take the moment to look out over the room. The joyful faces of the enraptured Varati combined with the impassive or neutral expressions of others. Dark eyes pause with a flutter of black feathers dusted with silver. The darkling's gaze lingers for a moment, flicks to another and then drops as she turns to the front to witness the kiss of husband and wife. Despite herself, dark eyebrows furrow and she looks away.

Faanshi's eyes go as round as coins, if coins can ever be the green hue of springtime leaves. Her mouth had already stopped; her breath had stopped; now it seems as if her heart has stopped, as the already overwhelming evening tops itself off for a humble shudra with the sight of the very first kiss she has ever beheld. And what a stunning first example!

As the crown settles on Thalia's head, then the kiss afterwards, the tension lines increase around Maat's eyes rather than decrease. She stands from her seat and moves toward the archway, where she stands ready to direct traffic. As if her rising were a signal, the assembled Varati, join in Shahar's cry with, "Hail, Queen Thalia! Hail Beloved Queen!" in various degrees of joy.

"Hail Khalid Atar! Hail Queen Thalia Khalida!" The words boom from the Warlords of Major and Minor clans, spoken as if by one man with an enormous volume to his voice. Their every difference forgotten, today they stand united, to honor their King, their God and their newfound Queen.

Interest sparkles brightly in the emerald-green eyes framed by scarlet-fire lashes as her vision takes in the kiss of the King and Queen. A kiss that could symbolize so many different things to some many different people. Even as hardened as she herself is to the Varati, she can't help but feel a tug deep in her stomach.

Drusus glances over the noisy crowd, gaze curious. He turns his face and regards the expressions of his guards, which are carefully schooled.

Chana-Cari stands with the others, awe still in her eyes. Her soft voice finds a place with the a place with the others.

"All hail the Queen-Maharani! All hail the beloved Khalid Atar, Divine Flame!" Shahar cries in exultation; there is within her exuberance no doubting her support for this union.

Rabi claps her hands together, unable to give voice, but the exultation flows from her heart anyway, light from a small star, joyous warmth from a fire. Her eyes are radiant as she rises up on her toes, beaming under her veil as tears flow unbidden to make its edge cling to her cheeks.

Silence has possessed Vayu in thick, woolen folds the entire ceremony, his eyes seeming to record everything, as though he had the eidetic memory of a blackjack player. Here, however -- on the threshold of a brave new world and with the fears of war placed firmly behind him, he can raise his voice with Shahar's, in a heavy boom of happiness. "Hail the God-King! Hail Queen Thalia! Blessings to the House of the Divine Flame and all those of both kingdoms!" he exults, a fist raised in the air as though his emotion were trapped within, a sparkling star hidden from the world save in moments like these. So the diplomat does feel things, after all.

The Orcinus royals are smiling, though silent. Approval of the union shows in the cant of a head here, the respectful placing of fingers to a heart there. They celebrate this marriage in their own way, and with no less sincerity shown for it.

As one, save perhaps the Nayaka himself, that black and silver presence, the massive stoic guard, the Amir-al's Lions of Fire, kneel, and prostrate themselves, foreheads pressed to the backs of their hands, before both King and Queen. Zuhayr is the first to lift his head, and bellow, "All praise Khalid Atar, Most High! All praise the Maharani, his Wife!" The rest, the Agni-Haidar, echo the words.

From beside Cepheus, a cry rises to join those of the Varati around her. Maya's voice rings true, "Hail Khalid Atar! Hail Queen Thalia Khalida!" The purity of her devotion is clear.

With one hand freed, Riana reaches up to dab at her cheeks, using the handily placed veil as a kerchief. And then, He says such a sweet thing, and kisses Her. Didn't Ria say just that exact thing when she met with Khalid the first time? Er... or something like it, anyway. Bouncing on her heels, she looks eager to rush forward and lend her own happiness to that pair. Luckily, Annie's hand remains on her shoulder, and so she settles for adding her own cheers to the others, "Hurrah for Mummy! Hurrah for.." erm, hrm. Not Daddy, "...for Khalid Atar!" She'll worry about that one later..

Anemone cannot resist a brief kiss to the back of Oriane's hair at the little half-smile from the darkling, but she otherwise moves not at all save to whisper to Riana, "Hurrah for the Queen and God-King, my sweeting."

The cries echo throughout the shrine and from the throne room beyond until the entire building would seem to reverberate. From outside the walls, further shouts can be heard, as if the populace of Masada had been told that the ceremony has concluded and they have a new Queen. From all sides, inside and out, the Varati call out to their King and their Queen.

The Agni-Haidar are first to show their humble respect to their God, their Queen. The Warlords assembled wait not long to follow their honorable example, kneeling down, back of hands on floor, head in hands. Once again, they exclaim their praise to the newlyweds.

Madirakshi is simply another figure in the wave of scarlet that makes up the Atarvani looking upon this more sacred of unions. The sheer red veiled slit behind which her inscrutable eyes lie wrinkles slightly.

Altair looks upon that kiss, assured that something good and true is happening here today. His smile is relaxed, as are his wings, as he realizes what he is witnessing at last. He looks to Callidora, his eyes gazing upon hers as he speaks to her. "Peace is on its way, true and lasting, if it has not already arrived."

This ... moment ... is so incredibly abstract. Everything exists separately, relating to each other like the hazy components of a dream. There are all these people, eyes set in faces both fair and dark. There are cheers, the sound filling the room like a distant thunder rolling in. And then, there is the Kiss. One hand reaches for his elbow, fingers touching there lightly to hold her balance, as they share the heat of one mouth pressed to another. Shared breath, a brief joining of souls. It all begins to knit together, reality settling about her, and Thalia breaks away with a half-step back. A smile and a look out over the chambers.

Niamh stands with the others, his eyes still fixed on Khalid Atar and his new Queen. Even though he has been in the presence of Khalid Atar before, it never ceases to stun him. Hopefully he will remember this night to record it in his notes later...

During the formalities that follow, as Faisal leads the pride line of Lions toward the newly-crowned Queen and the God-King himself, Shahar tears her devoted gaze from the dais to regard Rabi. Her akraba, her friend. And to her she sends a sisterly glance of understanding, a sharing of deep emotions.

In the midst of the wave of adulation, Faanshi sinks to her knees, trembling beneath her sari, overcome. The shudra girl then flings her forehead to the floor, barely managing missing the back of the final row of seats behind which she has been lurking.

Rabi laces her fingers together tightly, more to keep the boundless energy she feels properly and demurely contained than for any other reason. She watches Faisal and her eyes shine with pride and adoration. She looks over towards Shahar and an added sparkle dances within her copper-chased golden gaze.

Drawing back as well, with his arm offered to his Queen, Khalid Atar looks upon the gathered crowds of the shrine and speaks, "The Crown and Throne of the Varati empire thanks all of you for witnessing this monumental and historical event." He inclines his chin to the collected chamber. "We will be retiring to the throne room. There a performance will be put on while you are free to mingle. In addition, the Crown would be willing to listen to private greetings, petitions and such. A little later in the evening, a fireworks display will be put on for your pleasure." This said, he begins to walk down the isle as the Imam and Agni-Haidar fall into place.

Shahar hesitates not at all. As Khalid and Thalia approach, she falls to her knees and lowers herself in full prostration to the two who rule the Varati... and command her heart.

Rabi sinks down, too, as the God-King and his Queen pass, pressing her forehead against the backs of her slender fingers. She remains bowed even as Faisal passes, and his Agni-Haidar too.

With good spirit, though a tad awkwardly, Riana moves to kneel and then carefully bow as her mother and new stepfather pass. After all, everyone else is doing it, and she so clearly and desperately wishes to please these two, and the people to whom Thalia has been sold. Sparkling wings arch out slightly to aid the maneuver, and the delicious silks she has been dressed in flutter on their way toward the ground.

Anemone bows, if deeply so. She isn't into that kneeling and forehead to the floor-ing yet.

As the god-king of the Varati and his new Queen pass, Leonidas offers a Praetorian's salute, keeping to his feet.

Chana-Cari quickly slips to her knees, touching her forehead to the floor, careful of the pew in front of her.

Squeezing her sister's fingers, Oriane turns to watch the God-King and his Queen pass by. She does not prostrate herself, or even bow her head until she realizes she is the only one not doing anything. Though it may be misinterpreted as disrespect, it is truly only that she is lost in thought. Manners have always been her shield, but now they seem as useless as a broken goblet.

Niamh kneels also, touching his forehead reverently to the floor as the Divine couple pass, his thoughts never ceasing their unspoken prayers.

As the procession makes its way towards her, Tahira lowers herself penitently. Her head bows in graceful respect to her King and Queen, the flames of her soul.

As Khalid and Thalia begin moving down the aisle, Maat disappears into the throne room, and there can be heard the sound of rapid feet movement, as if the director of a play were clapping her hands and shouting, 'Places, people, places.' Just beyond the threshold of the archway, Maat kneels and presses her head to the floor for to the passing monarchs and in a set of double rows, all the assembled shudra and naraki kneel and prostrate themselves.

Drusus, hands still laced behind his back, inclines his head politely as the newlyweds pass. It is a Praetor's greeting to civilians of very high status. The guards beside him follow suit, bowing more deeply.

Madirakshi has seldom seen much else than the floor, this moment is no different. The shechah's robes pool about the floor about her. The form no different than the one beside her, uniform.

That's her cue. Faanshi has to struggle to collect herself, but she knows her orders, and the shaken girl leaves as soon as she is able, to get herself into place to assist in the serving of the food. She leaves the shrine via the archway.

Altair stands as he watches the God-King Atar pass, Altair's Delphic colors worn proudly as he gives Atar a Hounds' salute.

Ilex bows deeply to the King and Queen as they pas by, a reverent expression on her face.

Thalia slips her arm in with Khalid's, her wings shifting slightly behind her. White feathers mix with black briefly, bringing about a light shower of gold and silver dust, before the Queen finally settles her feathered limbs. An easy smile rests upon her lips and her calm expression is warmed ever so slightly by a blush which touches her cheeks. As she walks down the aisle with her husband, she looks to the people showing their respect, and her grey-soft eyes linger on Annie and her daughters. That smile deepens and she nods her head, faintly, to them.

The ceremony is over. No sooner does Khalid announce it is ending than the combined warlords rise to glance at one another with considering eyes, their brief union dissipating with every new breath taken. No hostilities are shown, the purpose of this gathering far from over, but the unison is gone. Every one finds his way to his own Clansmen.

(Eventually, most of the guests entered the throne room, where the reception took place. Read A Nexus of History for those events).  

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