A Light in the Darkness

[Nir'wei]

It took far, far too long to reach the buffet table; unfortunately using a false noble name on the spot with a load of vague, meandering and often contradictory qualifications was also a very good conversation starter. Nir'wei found it being used on him rather often as he descended into the crowd and squeezed through in the most dignified matter he could muster, without outright shoving the guests from his path. What few introductions he received were quickly swept aside with the bare mimimum of acknowledgements, barely a step away from outright insulting. It didn't matter. His eyes were locked on that food, and that food only. Fruits, vegetables, meats and cheeses. Sweet pastries, cakes, breads. Scattered across small dishes, heaped together into large display cases showing off every delectable morsel, painting the perfume-laden air with its delicate scents. He'd never believed himself an expert, nor was he arrogant enough to consider his pallet refined... but Immortals above, he swore they looked better than anything he'd eaten in his life and his stomach was aching to put that theory to the test.

Nir'wei leaned over to snatch up a pastry-wrapped little bundle of some unknown smoked meat and his elbow bumped up against an elderly woman nearby. "Ahh, sorry my... oh?" Looking up to apologize, he caught sight of a familiar and unexpected face just over the side of the table. Faith? He was about to question what a slave-girl like her would be doing at a ball like this, until he looked down at himself and realized he was in no position to question anything at this point. He could even overlook the fact that she was filling a plate with perhaps the most mouth-watering morsels of them all, and the fact that she looked like she was wearing an arc's worth of his wages. Her owner must have been nearby. Oh, a brilliant idea sprung to mind realizing that.

Popping the meat-pastry into his mouth and smirking to himself, he wandered ponderously around the small circles of chattering ball-goers and crept up just behind Faith, close enough that he could reach out and touch her... and then he did. He clapped a hand on Faith's shoulder and suddenly said, just loud enough to make himself easily heard by the surrounding men and women, "Ahh, my Lady High Priestess!" His grin was impish and voice faux-mocking as he tugged Faith into a light one-handed hug, mindful of the tray she still bore. "How lovely it is to see you again, your work with the King must keep you busy." Of course he was just making up whatever nonsense he could think of on-the-spot, he couldn't possibly know that he was actually speaking a shred of truth amongst the veil of slander. "And, aha, I see you're still using the slave disguise." His voice dropped to a whisper, but it was still more than loud and clear enough to be heard by any passer-by that wished to eavesdrop. "I must say, it even fools me at times, my lady." He winked, widened his grin a little more, and reached back over the table for another slice of food.

[Quio]

They had lingered at the drinks table too long. Quio had wanted to skedaddle after snatching the first glass of liquid his hand landed upon, but Hart remained, fawning over the arrangement of juices and liquors. The adult equivalent of a kid in a confections shop. "Do you think there's some Venora Red?" he asked, picking up one bottle to peer at the label, then shaking his head and looking around at the others.

Someone stepped up beside Quio and the Yludih automatically stepped aside to let the person --a huge wolf of a man-- get access to the refreshments. Hart looked over and said, somewhat weakly in a voice Quio knew well, "I'll have what he's having." And took the bottle after the man was finished with it.

And then the guy turned to Quio, eyes searching, and he said, "Iaan Krome, the name is familiar but I don't remember your parents. Riki and Toni perhaps? Did you go to school with my boys Marcus and Vaughn?" Quio nearly dropped the glass he'd been holding.

"Oh," he said, trying to sound surprised. He thought he came off rather too on edge. He tried harder to smile. "Named for my father, actually." Then he realized the other man might not speak Rakahi. He repeated as best he could in Common, and put out his hand to shake. "Iaan. Sorry, my Common's not that great. And my friend is--" He turned to introduce Hart, but the other was gone. "Uh, not here," he said, and not having the words in Common said in Rakahi, "He seems to have run off."

Sort of disgruntled, his eyes scanned the crowd, and he spotted Hart quick enough, the whole bottle of red still in hand, surrounded by a gaggle of women. The seaborn surreptitiously pointed to the man Quio was talking to and fanned himself a little, mouthing oh my gods. The women seemed to titter at his expression, glancing over.

Quio looked away before his face could turn red. He asked the man, back in Common, "You're Krome too, yes?"

He tried to remember. The man was wearing a cloak of wolf skins, and the Yludih ran through as many of the noble houses as he could recall. Andaris. Venora. Krome. Burhan. Warrick. Um. There were others... six, seven in total? He knew Andaris was the dragon, and Venora the rose. Krome, were they the wolf? The bear? Looking at the man before him, he guessed wolf. This man must be a Krome.

"I don't know your boys," he admitted. "I'm not much of a Krome. I live out of Rynmere. Don't come here, much. I don't know a lot of this place, I fear."

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Elyna]

The young woman watched as another dazzling couple spun past in a whisper of chiffon and silk. Lingering beside the tabletop, more treats found themselves devoured as the skyrider made efforts to be sneaky. Her gaze drifted through the crowds picking out the familiar faces as they gathered in small crowds to socialize. With sore feet and extra weight on her back the woman found herself with one hand balanced on her back, trying to ease swollen and tender muscles.

Thirsty she collected a drink of water that was offered and started to make her way around the edge of the ballroom. Fingers trailed over the wooden panelling, picking out the familiar patterns of waves and ships. Images that she’d copied as a child and had always enjoyed exploring. At one point she thought she saw a tall man with dark hair heading in her direction and she took the first door away from the room. Fumbling with the handle in her haste to escape.

The corridor was dark and more importantly it was quiet. She heard announcements made in the ballroom behind her. That guests were welcome to drink, eat, dance and be merry until the final bell rung for the day. At which point they were expected to depart.

Her slippers took her away from the bright lights and the temptation of good wine. She smoothed hands over her stomach and the restless child within. Peering into the rooms set aside for guests to linger the woman finally made her choice and slipped beyond the door with as much grace as she could manage.

► Show Spoiler

Hello all! Lets get this tied up  We have a few splinter threads going, but if we consider this to be the final round of posting before it’s submitted for grading.
I hope you’ve all had fun, sorry that it seems to have lost momentum and petered out!

[Faith Augustin]

Well, if ever there was a moment of being careful what she wished for, Faith considered, it was right here and right now. She sent a heartfelt prayer to Famula to thank Her for the lesson as, not only was it Nir'wei-that-she-knew, but he behaved in an entirely Nir'wei-that-she-knew manner. He put a hand on her, announced loudly that he was pleased to see her, his Lady High Priestess and pulled her into a hug. "Oh, you dreadful man! It is wonderful to see you", she whispered as her mouth was next to his ear and she could not resist the smile of delight that lit her face at seeing him, and the hug that she gave him in return was as heartfelt as it was possible to be.

"I am wearing shoes which are torture devices", her admission was accompanied by a pained look, tinged with amusement "And I can't breathe properly. Look at what this does to my waist. It's like.. torture" She smiled at him and shook her head "You should not tease me so, it is most unkind." She couldn't bring herself to actually sound or look like she meant it and instead she lowered her voice so that only he heard "This is dreadful. I can't feel my feet, Nir'wei. I can't breathe and people keep talking about me behind their hands. I like being tall, though", the last she had to admit.

"What are you doing here?", she asked with a raised eyebrow "Do you know Lady Elyna? She is wonderful, isn't she? She is Master's friend, but mine too. Which means that there are two of you. I like that. Other than her and Master and you, though I don't know anyone here." She gave him, then, a wicked smile and her expression wore something which, thusfar, he had only seen in a dream they'd shared. She looked at him with a challenge in her eyes.

"I hope, your Lordship, that you plan on asking me to dance?" By every Immortal and the Seven, let him back down, she thought to herself as she met his gaze with a level expression.

Off Topic

Thanks so much for the thread! Great fun!!

[Nir'wei]

It was nice to know that through all that ghastly attire Faith had retained her sense of humour. "It's wonderful to see you too," he whispered back, giving an extra-comfort squeeze to their embrace before he pulled back again to get a proper look at the woman. "Well I mean, it's wonderful to see your face underneath all that... some part of me wants to say makeup but for some reason it bares a striking resemblance to something I scraped off the stable floors yesterday." Though of course he wasn't being serious, he made sure to keep his voice down. Immortals forbid if anyone should hear his jesting and think it truly insulting. No doubt he'd feel the wrath of half the people in the building, and Elyna too, if Faith was good friends with her as well.

She drew his attention down to her feet, and he cringed. "Jeez. You'd think a ball would be a time for celebration, not mutilation." He wanted to ask who on earth had decided that she should wear something so uncomfortable, but he had his suspicions. "No, what is most unkind is making you wear such things. If you wanted to be tall I could make you some stilts, ones that wouldn't cut off circulation to your toes in the process too, I bet!" She might not have meant it but the more they talked about it, the more Nir'wei did. It was awful to bring her to a ball, a celebration with food and music and dancing and fun, and then at the same time ruin the whole night for her by dressing her in outrageous outfits and leaving her for others to gawk at like some form of entertainment for the crowds.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I met her once. She helped me with a small, unsuccessful mission I tried to carry out on behalf of the Lodge... unfortunately we failed and parted ways afterwards. She was a nice woman, though. One of a surprising number. A Skyrider, too! Though I've never actually seen her at the Lodge." Talking about it made him realize just how odd that sounded. Perhaps they'd simply never crossed paths. The Lodge wasn't a small place, given that it housed most of the Volareon and Jacadon under the service of the entirety of the Xiur Skyriders. Still, he liked to think that he at least had a casual acquaintance with most of them. "Ha, I was actually hoping to see her and get to know her a little more. Of course, no reason why you can't go up to somebody here and strike off a conversation too! You might make even more friends - after all, I only know you and, err, Lady Elyna." He didn't know she was a noble.

Wait. She wanted to dance? He looked in her eyes for a moment and grinned softly. "Oh, while it would do me no greater a pleasure," he went on with yet another over-exaggeration of formality, "I fear that if my horrid dancing didn't break your ankles before we even finished the first dance, your shoes would." He laughed. "Besides, I don't think I'll be lingering for long. The food is delicious and Elyna is nowhere to be seen. As for how to find her, I've done nothing and I'm already out of ideas." The young man shrugged his shoulders innocently. "No doubt she's already forgotten that I exist, so I will take whatever food I can stuff into my pockets and leave," he excused himself before leaning over and whispering directly into Faith's ear, "before somebody pulls me aside and tries to ask which noble family I come from!"

As it turned out, he did linger. For most of the rest of the night he ate until he felt fit to burst, and then snuck some extra cakes into the pockets of his cloak for later. The rest of the time he spent wandering aimlessly, occasionally chatting to Faith whenever she wasn't already engaged, and generally enjoying the atmosphere. When the night ended, he left, stomach and pockets full. It wasn't all that bad being a noble. One day, he thought to himself with a smile as he returned to the mockery of a camp-site he'd left behind, he might actually try it for real.

[Yanahalqah]

By no means the evening had gone on for too long before Yana and her companion found themselves back in the open air, cold caressing their faces, the wind brushing through their hair. Hannes leaned heavily on the false Eídisi, one arm slung around her shoulders, the other hanging limply by his side. Yana herself had curled an arm around his waist, keeping him upright with every ounce of strength she had in her. The added weight of the man made moving around quite difficult however, and when he stumbled he pulled the woman down with him. It took all the Yludih had to keep the two of them from falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“I want to stayyy!” the newly appointed knight whined, refusing to take another wobbly step, forcing Yana to stop moving as well. “I can still go on.”
The Yludih sighed, wondering just why she had decided to see him home. It would have been so much easier and convenient to leave him at the Burhans's mansion. “No you cannot,” she spoke rather annoyed, “you are feeling sick and you can barely stand.”
“I'm not sick,” Hannes disagreed, even though he looked utterly miserable, had puked through an open window just a few moments prior, and had been complaining about nausea.
“Yes you are. It is time for you to go home. You will feel better once you go lie in your bed.”

The knight mumbled something incomprehensible, but did not resist any further, instead taking an unstable step forward, falling to the side rather comically. Yana could not prevent him from disappearing half into the hedge before pulling him back in position. Hannes complained a little, struggling weakly.
“No. No. No. No,” he muttered, shaking his head while frowning. “I have to... no. I need to-” he pulled himself free with an awkward motion, stumbling back into the hedge. Somehow he caught himself, adopting a stabler position with knees bent, and face staring at the ground. His hands gripped his thighs in fear of not being able to support the weight of his bent-over torso. Yana took a step back when he started to gag. He sounded as if he was dying, his back and gut convulsing with each noise he made. And then he threw up, again, spilling the leftover contents of his stomach into the grass. It was mostly liquid, Yana noticed, suspecting it were the few glasses of water she'd given him after his prior vomit session.

“I do not think the Burhans will care to invite you again,” she observed, not supposing the maids would be pleased to find Hannes's semi-processed meals on the balcony or in the garden. She sighed again.
“F-fuck the Burhans,” the young knight managed, tears steaming from the corners of his eyes, and snot drooping out of his nose. “They have b-bad booze.” He threw some more stomach contents out of his body, tottering a little to the left. “I'm not feeling well.”
Yana rolled her eyes, “I noticed. Are you done yet?”

He gave a weak nod, wiping his mouth and his nose with the sleeve of his suit. Yana could almost feel the designers of it shiver in horror. If they'd been there to witness, they surely would have suffered a heart attack. “I think so.”
“Good, let us get you home then.” She caught the man as he stumbled towards her, and once more took position to support him as he walked. She made sure to stay as far away from that disgusting sleeve as possible though.
“Uhuh. I'll feel better then, right?”
“Of course you will,” the Yludih lied. “Tomorrow you will be feeling well again.”

Poor fool, the worst is yet to come.

[Malcolm]

Malcolm had always been fond of making people sweat. He liked to see it as handing them a shovel, watching while they dug their own grave, and figured he just played the role of nudging them into it at the end. However, the man in front of him seemed harmless, a terrible liar, but harmless. “For just over forty arcs now,” he admitted, surely this pretender wouldn't go on, no one could be a member of any family for forty years and not know everyone related to the line. Malcolm lifted the left side of his mouth in a wicked little smirk and winked. “Enjoy the free wine, Iaan.”
With that he gave the man another look up and down for weapons, the usual from a knight, and went on his way with a fresh glass of wine in hand. The hall was getting a little hot with everyone dancing and talking, packed in like fish in a bucket, and Malcolm chose to venture outside where the music wasn't so loud and he could enjoy some fresh air.

[Quio]

Cryptic, and yes, Quio was sweating. Digging his own grave?

That would come later.

For now, he simply nodded at the Krome, trying to keep his cool, then snatched a wineglass, and fled.

Fancy get-togethers were really not his thing.

---

Despite his awful evening, he was probably one of the last to leave, having hidden himself away in some untouched --or at least, usually untouched-- nook of the great house. He didn't dance, he didn't socialize, though he had spilled some wine-- and perhaps the greatest of his secrets. By the time he left his hand was wrapped and stinging with pain.

Hart found him when he entered the emptying ballroom, and immediately the smile dropped off the other's face. "What's wrong?" the seaborn asked, concerned, "I've been looking for you all over." But Quio just shook his head.

Not here.

They hurried towards the door. Hart nodding politely at the people who looked over at them, saying a short goodbye when it was necessary, thanking the staff. Quio looked at the floor and walked.

It was a relief to have his weapons and coat in hand. He didn't bother putting anything on before he left, despite the rain and the evening chill.

OOC: Thanks for the party, Elyna! Though Quio is a poor guest. ^_^'

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Tristan Venora]

“High Priestess?” Tristan wondered as the man that had been announced as Lord Nir’wei put a hand on his slave’s shoulder and hugged her and looked at Faith in confusion. “Is there something I don’t know?” What did Faith really do when she left his house in the morning to work as a cook and seamstress? Did she really go to the temple? And why did this Nir’wei person talk about her work for the king? As far as he knew Faith had only been in the king’s company once when she had accompanied Alistair on that mission. Maybe she had a doppelganger as well, one that was some sort of spy priestess?

Come to think of it, who exactly was Lord Nir’wei? The man’s clothes looked as if they belonged on a beggar, and the rest of him didn’t look much better. Was he even a real noble? Well, the guards had let him in, so he had to have had an invitation. Maybe he was just eccentric, kind of like Tristan, but less fashionable. Or maybe … maybe he was a Krome. Most of them were lacking when it came to appearance, apart from Elyna’s husband and Iaan.

That was probably it, he decided.

Faith mentioned something about dancing though, and all thoughts of Kromes and doppelgangers disappeared from his mind. He considered her question for a moment before he smiled brightly and offered her his arm again. “Of course, your Ladyship. Let’s dance.” He didn’t know what she thought of the sudden change in title, but to him at least she was not just a slave, but a real lady this evening and precious beyond measure. He wanted everybody at the ball to see the beautiful woman that had accompanied him – even if he knew little more about dancing than how not to step on his partner’s toes.

[Elyna]

The nobleman had his opportunity to dance with his slave as was of course, his right. A kindly gentleman took pity on the scrawny looking ‘Lord’ with wild hair stood beside the buffet table and ensured his pockets were filled with pastries before he left.
As a final act of generosity, guests were given a tipple of brandy or whiskey as they made their merry way out of the enormous wooden doors and back to the streets of Andaris. Caelan’s expression may have dimmed towards the close of the night, something had obviously irritated the Noblewoman. She remained polite to the last though, speaking to the last guests as they made their way to the door and then hopefully home.
Elyna returned to an empty ballroom, a wolf-skin cloak wrapped around her shoulders to keep her cold. Servants were gathering up glasses and the chink of glass rattling in crates echoed in the empty space.
"Where have you been?” Her Mother stood up from a chair on the side of the room. Shoes in one hand and empty glass in the other the Baroness’s movements remained impossibly graceful. Elyna swallowed and pulled the cloak closer. It smelt like Malcolm and no matter what, his presence was a comfort. Caelan approached, eyes hard with reproach.
Tired, and with an aching back and feet, the skyrider was in no mood to be kept from her bed, “are you concerned that I’ll damage my reputation, Mother?” She rested a hand on her swollen belly and felt the restless babe move within, “I think we’re a little beyond worry.”
“You weren’t with him were you? The Krome bastard?”
“Malcolm,” Elyna corrected with a sigh and met her Mother’s pale gaze, “I was with Malcolm.”
“I forbid it Elyna!” The wine glass was discarded, smashed against the wooden floor and splintering like spilled water beneath them.
The skyrider watched the final pieces skidding across the floorboards before shaking her head, “it doesn’t matter who you find for me, Mother,” if any nobleman was even willing to take her up with another man’s child, “I won’t. I’ve made myself very clear. I won’t marry.”