Another Courtship Thread (Peaceful, Open RP)

[The Resurgent Dream]

Officially, the ball was being held to reestablish the Resurgent Dream’s place in the world and to familiarize everyone with the restored and expanded Danaan High Kingdom. Provided they agreed to accede to Danaan security, people from all nations were invited. As often happens in diplomacy, tyrants, figure-heads, popular politicians, saints, sinners, healers, and killers would all congregate together behind at least a thin veneer of politeness. As always happens, there was to be an accompanying protest several miles away.

Of course, for those Christians of noble birth from nations not seen by Danaans as too horrific, there was another purpose to the ball. Her Majesty was twenty-six. She was a well-formed woman with golden hair, devout faith, and a civil manner. Nonetheless, she was unmarried. She had once had a husband but fractal reality had erased the entire event from time and space. The nation needed an heir and Gwendolyn needed someone by her side given her newfound responsibilities.

Gwendolyn looked up. The Grand Hall of Celyn Palace seemed to sparkle. Liveried servants moved through the crowd carrying all sorts of delicacies. The Tarana Orchestra was playing. Nobles and other notables were milling about in formal dress. Even the light seemed just right in crowded room. Still, none of the foreign guests had yet arrived.

Gwendolyn moved through the crowd, her long, flowing gown creating the illusion that she was gliding rather than walking. She stepped out alone onto one of the balconies. The moon was just starting to top the distant hills. It was rather romantic. She couldn’t help but give a small smile, one which faded as soon as her mind drifted to other balls, ones when her brother had still been alive.

It was in some ways hard. The national mood, now that the crisis had passed, was one of relief and renewal. How could she share in that mood when her brother was dead? How could anyone who lost a loved one in Solomon? A single tear slid down her cheek. She suddenly wanted to be alone, to leave the ball and find somewhere to cry. She shifted forward, her hands clasping the railing of the balcony tightly. Such weakness was not permitted!

Gwendolyn turned and passed back into the hall. A few courtiers looked at her with vague worry in their eyes. She, however, made her way straight over to her cousin, Princess Maria Teresa. Of all her relatives, Maria Teresa perhaps looked the most like her. The princess curtsied as her queen approached. “Your Majesty, I hope you’re enjoying yourself?”

Gwendolyn sighed ever so slightly. “It is nice to have a ball again. It feels like it’s been ages. Still, I can’t help reflecting on how many people aren’t here.”

Maria Teresa nodded sympathetically. “It’s a very different world than it was even five years ago and we have a very different place in it.”

“I suppose I’m not Queen Agwene struggling for my tiny nation of five million to be taken seriously by the great powers of the world, am I?” Gwendolyn asked.

“No, but Agwene was surprisingly successful, even before the nation actually grew,” Maria Teresa noted. “You’ll have your own challenges but I’m sure you’ll meet them just as well.”

Gwendolyn was about to say something else when she noticed movement near the Entrance Hall. Someone had arrived, likely someone she would need to greet. “Excuse me, Your Highness…” she said as she glided away from her cousin.

[Old Tyrannia]

A Tyrannian helicopter hovered over the vast territory of the Resurgent Dream below. The Emperor sighed. He turned to Empress Numeria Flavia, his wife,
"When will we arrive in the Resurgent Dream?" she asked him.
"We are presently approaching the capital, my love. Once we land, we will go straight to the concert hall; are you looking forward to it, Numeria?"
"Of course, Gaius! It's been such a long time since we went anywhere together..."
"And I hear that the new Queen is looking for a husband- perhaps we can marry off young Prince Appius."
Prince Appius Lepidus Romulus, son of Emperor Gaius Romulus IV and Empress Numeria Flavia Romulus, had never been good with girls. The Emperor had long wished to marry him off to some rich foreign monarch. He turned to where the Prince was sleeping quietly; at 23 years of age, he was extremely handsome, with wonderfull brown eyes, reminiscent of his father, and his mother's blond hair.
"I suppose, though they are christian in resurgent dream," said the Empress.
"They don't approve of the Tyrannian religion; they call us pagan barbarians."
"What? Just because we believe god is to great to take on any one form? Bah!"
The Empress sighed as they landed in the Resurgent Dream National Airport. She had organised transport to the palace...

[The Resurgent Dream]

The Tyrannians were, in fact, wrong. No one had ever called them pagan barbarians, at least no one at the royal court. No one, in fact, knew much about their religion. Perhaps there was something to offend? However, the proposition that the divine can take many forms was one held in Buddhism, Hinduism, and Shinto, all religions with many many hundreds of millions of practitioners in the Resurgent Dream, including some at the court. However, it was also true that Gwendolyn wished to marry a man of her own faith.

She smiled as the Emperor and Empress were shown in. "Your Majesties, I am pleased you came."

[Old Tyrannia]

The Emperor smiled.
"The correct style is 'Your Imperial Majesties', though 'majesty' will suffice."
He looked around the room.
"This ballroom is almost empty. Where is everyone?"
The Emperor was wearing a long, red traditional Tyrannian cloak. Below this he wore a silken suit and a gold medallion around his neck. He wore a stylised gold circlet, reminiscent of the leaf crown often worn by roman emperors, on his head. The Empress was even more impressive; she wore a beatifull scarlet silk dress, a feather boa, and a silver circlet. She also wore a pearl necklace.
The Prince, on the other hand, was dressed in a buisness suit, albeit an impressive one, and had a multitude of military medals on his chest; the combination gave an eccentric look, though he liked it. The Empress was'nt so keen. The Prince's mind wandered, but promtly re-focused after the Empress delivered a sharp kick in his leg.
"Hello," he said to the queen.
The Empress did'nt know much about Resurgent Dream; only that they were primarily christain, and Tyrannians had clashed with christianity for centuries. The Empress knew this; she was an intelligent woman. As such, she was convinced that the people of Resurgent Dream were intolerant monsters, though she was not going to let that stop her from having a good time. The Emperor, on the other hand, thought this was nonsense, and was convinced that with a little pushing, the Queen would be delighted to marry the prince. He willed her to respond to the prince.

[Xirnium]

There were in the Eternal Republic two ladies who, though very rarely seen, though never much spoken of, were of the near-extinct imperial blood, and so when it came to royal ceremony and pageantry such as this were naturally to be invited. They were their ladyships Alphónsa and Edwyna, sisters-in-law to the slain emperor, granddaughters of the seventy-seventh grand duchess Bláncheflour, and spinster sisters in their own right. They inhabited a set of dour rooms in the deserted eastern wing of Vardârgotha Palace and shared with one another a morbid, all-absorbing obsession, a mindless, unhealthy passion, for dwelling endlessly upon that ironic injustice of history which had excluded them so permanently and so entirely from having any say in, or influence upon, the affairs of Holy Xirnium.

Their ladyships Alphónsa and Edwyna opened the door very quietly, very carefully, very secretly, and they peered around it slowly before advancing with an expression of vague but deeply and impolitely mistrustful curiosity on their faces. It had been several months since they had dared sally forth from the gloomy empty wing wherein their grim and chill tapestried and golden mote-swirling apartments were located, and they were openly suspicious of every new space and every new person.

‘It’s Gwendolyn, my dear,’ the lady Alphónsa whispered flatly to her sister. ‘What’s wrong with her eyes?’

‘She’s crying,’ replied the lady Edwyna, utterly tonelessly. ‘She’s grieving for her brother of course, I suppose. Didn’t you know?’

‘No,’ said the lady Alphónsa.

There was plaster on their dreadful cheeks and powder on their long white necks. They stood there with their shoulders and hips touching, side by side, their heads forced forwards a little, a vacant look in their wide eyes.

Alphónsa and her sister were as thin as storks’ legs, remorselessly flat of chest, and were clothed in dresses so violent in their purple hue they gave discomfort to the rational eye, cut from a fine twill-weaved foulard silk so limp and so shapeless it seemed to hang from their prominent jutting shoulderblades and bony clavicles as if suspended from iron hooks, housing little more than a tangle of sinews and stiffened ligaments and dead malfunctioning nerves. They wore black iron-rimmed monocles each on the left eye, each magnifying its violet iris grotesquely, imparting on their owlish blinking an aspect such that it resembled the opening and closing of a clam. At their thin white throats the ladies wore identical gold filigree brooches set with cabochon almandines and delicate rose-pink balas rubies, dusty as if they had been hidden in the musty dark drawer of a bureau for half a decade, and at the end of hatpins through their limp, sparse grey hair they wore similar gilt ornaments. Presumably so that they might match with their tarnished golden brooches, for the ladies were immodestly vain.

‘We ought to say hello, oughtn’t we, my dear?’ asked the lady Edwyna at last, injecting the long featureless silence with some volume if not any expression.

‘Why?’ asked the lady Alphónsa with identical vacant disinterest. ‘Why should I?’

‘Why shouldn’t you? You’re of the original blood.’

‘So are you, if it comes to that.’

‘Well it does come to that, doesn’t it? Silly.’

‘Yes but...’

Their conversation thus harping on this inane nonsensical topic, it would have been quite possible for Alphónsa and her sister to remain motionless here in a corner all evening. Rooted firmly to the spot where they had entered the ballroom, beside the monumental doors, ramrod straight. The absurd childlike clamour of their flat voices might not cease all evening, until the food had gone cold, until the last guests had left, until the chandeliers had been extinguished and the hall had been shut and its entrances locked for the night, imprisoning their forgotten ladyships in the dark.

So sadly lonely had they been in their dusty and deserted corridors in the eastern wing of Vardârgotha Palace, so starved of attention and hungry for someone to exalt them and to be awed by their names and to kiss the tips of their thin white fingers, yet for the moment they took turns to stare open mouthed at one another. With dead white hands clasped excitedly beneath a chin, or gauchely scratching the back of an ear, large and degenerate and sensitive things that were the most expressive features on or attached to their heads, standing so dreadfully close to each other that anyone else would have recoiled to a less unnerving distance, their ladyships Alphónsa and Edwyna took turns to watch as the other gibbered senselessly.

[Bovidia]

"If you do not stop bolting at every unfamiliar scent, then I shall be forced to leave you tucked back here!"

A narrow head poked around from around a small bush. The ears were cocked attentively behind the first little sprouts of horns and the calf's big, dark eyes stared around the courtyard. "But this time I'm sure I smelled a predator!"

Exasperated, his mother raised her nose to the wind and inhaled several times. There were many, many unfamiliar smells there, and some of them could very well be those of a Predator. After all, she had never before been out of Bovidia and all the Predators there had been exterminated during the Rise many, many years before. For a moment, Ulaanda Breetanacalf's courage faltered. She wanted to run and leave this strange place, with all its crowds and enclosed spaces, far behind. To be back in the open fields of Bovidia, back with her herd so that her calf could join his young playmates. But Ulda was on a mission, an important one. The Gray Bull wished to open relations with the rest of the world, which meant that they could not afford to turn down an invitation of any sort. Besides, she was an eland of the royal lineage, more than a thousand pounds of muscle and sinew. She could face any Predator this strange land could throw at her and her calf.

"Nonsense. That is just the smell that the hairless primates emit. If you are planning to accompany me on an important diplomatic mission, then you must do your utmost not to be embarrassing. If you humiliate me, then you sully the name of the Gray Bull your father. You don't want that, do you? How do you think he would react if I told him that you offended the Danaans?"

"Don't tell him that! I promise to be good!" cried the young calf.

"Then get up here, Botan Ulaandacalf," she said sternly. At once, her child, his too-long legs flailing, bounded up from the shrubbery and took his place near her back legs. "I should think that you would be more respectful, after all I went through to allow you to accompany me. Do you know how long it took to convince the Gray Bull? I am myself now not entirely convinced. You should have stayed back with the crèche."

"No! Subelder Ebagocalf's milk tastes awful, and she always is the one stopping by to nurse us."

"Subelder Ebagocalf is the Gray Bull's sister..."

"Half-sister!"

"Fine, she is the Gray Bull's half-sister, and you oughtn't to speak of her like that. Are all the calves in this year's crèche so ill-mannered?"

"You think that I'm ill-mannered, mother? I'm sorry -- I don't mean to be." Botan lowered his head in shame and thrust his chin out.

"Then why do you speak of your elders so disrespectfully? You are a strange calf. Most of the two-month-olds would give their dewlap to be back in the crèche gallivanting about with their comrades and driving the subelders crazy, not trailing behind their mothers on diplomatic errands."

"The other calves say that I am too attached to you. I think I might be as well. But you are my mother -- oughtn't I be attached to you?"

"That is not the traditional way, Botan. Most calves leave their mothers after they are finished laying out, and only hang around her when they need protection or milk. My last calf would hardly speak to me after she was a few months old."

Botan considered this as he walked alongside his mother. Her hooves made clicking sounds on the strange ground, rather like the clicking that the Gray Bull's legs made whenever he walked anywhere. Botan could not explain why, but those clicks of the Gray Bull's unnerved him, and so did these clicks that his mother was making. Perhaps that was why he was so on edge -- although that smell! That husky, threatening one! That must be a predator! This place was crawling with them!

His mother seemed to sense his stiffening, for she threw an ugly glance over her shoulder and presented her horns. It was only then that he noticed she was talking to one of the hairless primates.

"I am the Elder Ulaanda Breetanacalf, personal envoy from the Gray Bull himself. This," she said, looking over her shoulder yet again, "is my son Botan Ulaandacalf. We are here to pay our respects to Her Majesty and attend this, ah, 'ball'." Ulaanda said the last word clearly unsure as to what exactly a "ball" was, but willing to find out.

[The Resurgent Dream]

“Do enjoy yourselves,” Gwendolyn said. The insults, improprieties, and breaches of protocol the leaders of this tiny nation had managed to perpetrate within seconds of arriving was rather spectacular. Gwendolyn managed to limit her response to a slight twitch of her lips as she turned away to greet her other guests. A sentient eland, it seemed. This ball might just be getting interesting.

Gwendolyn smiled brightly as the two elands were shown in, inclining her head politely. “Elder, Mr. Ulaandacalf, it’s a pleasure both of you could join us. I understand that the servers have special instructions to meet your dietary needs,” she said. In fact, everyone’s food was strictly herbivorous tonight to avoid offending the Bovidians. Danaans made an absolute distinction between the sentient and the non-sentient. Ulaanda and her calf were people. The sort of non-sentient elands found in parts of Ambara were not. However, she knew that not all sentient species, especially those biologically similar to a generally non-sentient species, drew lines in the same way. She didn’t want these people seeing her as a monster.

[Bovidia]

The form of address "mister" was on foreign to Bovidia and, while his mother was familiar with it from her diplomatic training, little Botan had never been addressed in such a manner before. He shied away from Gwendolyn, trying to cram his already-lanky form underneath his mother's belly. A brief kick from one of her back legs squirted him back out again and he stood, muscles twitching, apart from her.

Ulaanda ducked her head low and jutted her chin out, flattening her horns against her back in a submissive gesture. "You will have to excuse my calf, your Majesty. He is nervous, like many of his age, but he insisted on accompanying me. I said he should have remained in the crèche, but his maternal attachment seems unusually strong."

Her voice was more exasperated than maternal, truthfully, as little Botan was actually her sixth calf, and there was now a seventh inside of her, although it would not be born for many months and she had not yet started to show the bulge. It was common for Bovidians to become pregnant again as soon as the previous baby had been born, a holdover from the times of the Predators when infant mortality reached into the high eighty-percent range. Also, with elands particularly, the bond between calf and mother was traditionally a weak one. After two to four weeks of laying out with the mother its only contact, the calf was herded into a nursery herd, where it bonded quickly with its young companions and considered mother little more than a source of milk -- and even then, the calf was more than willing to nurse from other females if the opportunity presented itself. Consequentially, the mothers regarded their offspring more as a source of trouble and headache to be protected rather than as a child to love and cherish. Still, young Botan was the first male she had carried for the Gray Bull, and she was more willing to indulge his bizarre attachment than she would in other cases.

"I am glad to hear about the food, your Majesty. Do -- and I hope this question does not come off as overly impertinent -- but do you happen to have any morning glory tubers? They are a particular favorite of mine," continued Ulaanda.

"I want some tubers too!" cried little Botan, so excited that for a moment he forgot to be scared of Gwendolyn. His mother had often whispered her love of the delicious roots into his young ears while they had been laying out together after his birth.

"You are too young for solid foods, Botan Ulaandacalf," said his mother. "You may be able to chew on it, but you should not be able to properly digest them and I will not have you wasting her gracious majesty's food and time. After I have eaten, you may nurse."

Truth be told, however, Ulaanda would be happy with pretty much any leaf or grain. And the Daanans need not have worried about excluding meat from the festivities: the old legends and myths about the Predators described how entrails would be torn out of still-living bodies and eaten on the spot, but Bovidians had no clue about the concept of cooking meat. One could very well be able to feed them a cooked side of beef or lamb and, although they would find it disgusting and inedible, they would likely not recognize that it came from an unenlightened Bovidian (as was their term for the members of Family Bovidae around the world inexplicable unable to speak).

[Old Tyrannia]

You could imagine the Emperor's reaction when a pair of hoofed animals walked into the room. The fact that Queen Gwendolyn had left the prince to greet those newcomers, among others, irritated him further. Try as he might, the Emperor could'nt get it into his head that just this once, he was sourrounded by equals; if he did, he probabley would'nt care.
"My dear, would you like to dance?" he asked the Empress.
"Of course," she returned.
The Emperor and Empress moved away, leaving Prince Appius to his own thoughts. As the prince stood their, unsure of what to do next, the Emperor and Empress danced across the hall. It was'nt long, however, before they grew bored.
"Let's go and meet some of our fellow guests," said the Empress.
"A very good idea," answered the Emperor.
They drifted over to the newcomers. As the Emperor desperately tried to work out what they actually were, the Empress decided to open communications, so to speak.
"Hello," she said. "I am Empress Numeria Flavia Romulus of the Empire of Old Tyrannia. How do you do?"

[The Resurgent Dream]

"Of course," Gwendolyn said to Ulaanda. "Children will be children after all. As to the morning glory tubers, I'll see that you're given as many as you wish." Her smile for the diplomat was quite genuine. However, as the Empress interrupted the conversation rather abruptly, Gwendolyn couldn't help glancing over sharply. Who raised these people?

Still, she forced a polite smile for the Tyrannians. "This is the Elder Ulaanda and her son, Botan."

[Old Tyrannia]

"Charmed," said the Empress kindly. She genuinely did'nt realise she had caused offense.
"It's good to see that we aren't the only foreign guests here tonight. Would you like a kebab? They are very nice."
The Emperor came up behind her.
"Your Majesty," he said, addressing Queen Gwendolyn. "I must congragulate you on a fine ball; I mearly wish more people had cared to attend. Eldar," he said, addressing Ulaanda.
"I am Emperor Gaius Romulus IV of the Empire of Old Tyrannia. I understand you've met my wife, Numeria?"

[The Resurgent Dream]

"There must be three hundred people here," Gwendolyn said, not much masking the irritation in her tone this time. "But thank you."

Meanwhile, the Xirniumites were approached by a rather...roundish...blond woman. She smiled politely at them. "You seem familiar..." she started.

[Old Tyrannia]

The Emperor did'nt like the tone of voice. He responded venomusly;
"I was reffering to the lack of guests from abroad, your... majesty."
The Empress quickly noted the Emperor's agitation.
"Well, it was nice to meet you, Eldar Ulaanda. Your Majesty."
She turned to the Emperor.
"Come on, Gaius. This is my favourite song."
As the Emperor turned away, the Empress said;
"I'm afraid His Imperial Majesty suffers from a terrible temper. Please, forgive us. We mean no offence."
The Empress promptly turned to follow the Emperor.

[Songri]

Prince Tadayoshi paused outside the entrance hall. He glanced at his twin sister, Princess Natsumi. "This is it". His sister was here to represent the Songri Empire and his father, Emperor Kureno, who had recieved an invitation to the Ball . But he had a different reason for being present. He was the youngest son of the Emperor, and so while his actions were not as strictly monitered and regulated as his brothers he still had a duty to Songri, and tonight that duty was to try and open relations between Songri and the Resurgent Dream. Since the queen was seeking a husband he had volunteered to accompany his sister on a diplomatic mission on the off chance that he would be acceptable. He looked over his and his sisters outfit one last time.

Natsumi was a beauty, and her gown (made of white silk that had been threaded with strands of gold thread) had been custom made for this trip and even her brother Tadayoshi admitted it made her look divine. For jewelry she wore a gold necklace set with sapphires and two sapphire earings. Tadayoshi wore a variation of his Oushi dress uniform. This one lacked the ceremonial armour plating, the holster for his side-arm and Katana. It was made of the same material as his sisters gown, with the two differences being the gold thread in his outfit was far more elaborate and sapphires had been crushed and spread along the gold threads forming an alaborate pattern of gold and blue.

Natsumi looked at her brother carefully before smiling to herself. He looked good. Although Tadayoshi would never admit it he was handsome, and his lifetime of service in the Oushi had ensured that he looked after his body.

As Natsumi's smile faded to be replaced by her usual neutral expression the two stepped into the entrance hall before being guided by servants to the main hall.

[Xirnium]

Interrupters were very few and very far between in their ladyships’ lonely dictatorship sprawled across the three forgotten upper floors of the eastern wing of Vardârgotha Palace, and for a moment they were rendered too excited by the presence of this one to reply, staring at each other and then at the Danaan and then at each other again. Then the sisters confused one another in their mutual efforts to get the first vacant word in. Eventually Alphónsa was allowed to be the first to open her mouth, and when she did her usual deadpan voice was lowered in a hoarse flat whisper.

‘She says we seem familiar, dear.’

Alphónsa had an unshakably certain belief that as long as she whispered, no matter how loudly, no matter how inconsiderately, nobody could ever hear a word of what she said, save her sister’s ladyship.

‘I heard her, you silly thing. I’m not deaf, am I?’ said the lady Edwyna in her loud, flat manner. Her voice had travelled in a similar whisper from where she stood on the other side of the Danaan, from where she stood staring up at the interrupter with an emptiness of expression, and it seemed as if the whisper had intended to reach her sister’s ears without making any contact along the way with the unfamiliar pair of ears that lay between.

Her ladyship Alphónsa did not answer, but bit her thin, loose lower lip. ‘She’s been watching us. Hasn’t she?’ she said, turning her eyes suspiciously, staring guardedly. ‘Who told her we seem familiar? How long has she been spying?’

‘We aren’t in private, dear,’ replied the lady Edwyna vaguely. ‘Ballrooms aren’t private.’ She tossed her head which was attached to her long unattractive neck, but her coarse grey hair, which was gathered into a great hard knot affixed with vicious-looking jewelled headed hatpins, was not the type that could easily be flung.

Alphónsa was not sure she was altogether convinced by her sister’s arguments, which she in any case regarded as the product of a much slower and sillier mind, and she stood smoothing her purple foulard silk, sullenly. ‘What is she doing here? What is her name?’ she asked the Danaan, staring remorselessly.

‘Yes, yes,’ came the empty echo of her sister’s ladyship, ‘that’s what we want to know, my dear. What is her name? Can you hear me? Can you? Can you? Tell us your name. Tell us! Tell us! We’d like to have it.’ Edwyna wrung her hands and readjusted her smudged and gold-wire ribboned monocle.

[Bovidia]

Still, she forced a polite smile for the Tyrannians. "This is the Elder Ulaanda and her son, Botan."

"Of course," said Ulaanda, adopting the same submissive head-low, chin-out position that seemed to denote respect and fixing the newcomers with one of her big eyes. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Empress."

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Eldar Ulaanda. Your Majesty."

"Of course, very nice to meet you as well."

The two elands were somewhat perplexed at the rapidity of the discussion and the meeting. Very few conversations were so short in Bovidia, where long discussions over rumination were the norm. Neither of them had a chance to do much more than stare before the Empress and her consort -- to whom they had not been introduced -- stalked off into the distance.

"If it makes you feel better, your Majesty, I think there are lots and lots of people," offered Botan. "I've never seen the wildebeest in migration before, but from my mother's description it must look rather like this."

"Hush, little one," his mother chided. "The Great Herd migrates in a cloud of choking dust. Her Majesty's realm is much more civilized than that. It is gorgeous in here, your Majesty."

That was quite the complement. Enclosed spaces tended to make Bovidians very, very nervous. As well as it being tough to manage her long, bulky body through narrow doorways, it led to a sense of being entrapped, unable to flee if necessary that was very stressful to their systems.

After this chiding, Botan ducked his head low, but got a chance to hear with his sharp ears the sounds of new footsteps entering the hall. He spun on a dime, jumping a little into the air and landing near-splay-hoofed on his long legs. He wanted more than anything to bolt off and hide behind the salad bowl, but then he spotted the new arrivals and convinced himself it wasn't a Predator.

[Songri]

As Tadayoshi and Natsumi looked around the room trying to spot Queen Gwendolyn. Natsumi was the first to spot her speaking to two elands. Even through her mask she startled and felt a brief flash of fear before she quashed it. Tadayoshi's hand had drifted to the gap where his side arm usually rested and closed on air.

However after a moment to compose themselves Tadayoshi and Natsumi walked towards the Queen.

Coming to a stop facing Queen Gwendolyn Tadayoshi bowed and Natsumi curtsied. Natsumi was the first of the two to speak "Your Majesty, it is an honor to be here tonight." As the two stood back up straight Natsumi's eyes turned to the larger of the two Elands. "Please forgive my rudeness, I am Princess Natsumi of the Songri Empire and this is my brother Prince Tadayoshi." Her voice was light and friendly, and a smile had spread across her face.

Tadayoshi's gaze lingered on the Queen for a moment longer than his sisters before following hers to the two Elands. He dipped his head at them when Natsumi introduced him but his mind was elsewhere. Queen Gwendolyn was beautiful. He had never seen anything that came even close to matching her. But it would not do for a Songri Prince to be impolite, even to a non-human. He smiled at the two Elands

[Old Tyrannia]

His Imperial Majesty soon recovered from his brief temper, and turned his attentions to his son.
"Look at him, standing their like a fool," he hissed to the Empress.
"Leave him, Gaius," she responded.
"It's the first time he has attended an occasion such as this. He is naturally overwelmed."
"Yes, but he has'nt got to show it!" hissed the Emperor.
"He is embarrasing the entire Empire!"
"Gaius! You are far to hard on the boy. He is only 23, after all. He has not been given much of a chance to prove himself, anyway- it is always his brothers who get to attend such occasions."
"You are too soft!" snapped the Emperor.
"He is a member of the Imperial House of Old Tyrannia and it is about time he began acting like it!"
The Emperor marched over to the prince.
"Well?! Don't stand their like an idiot! The queen is unoccupied, I suggest you take the chance to try and make up for your earlier blunder!"
The Emperor ruled one of the world's largest empires, and did so with an iron fist. Loved though he was by his people, he was not someone one wanted to annoy. He certainly was'nt going to be beaten by his son; luckily Appius knew this.
"Er... yes, father. I will do so immediately."
He wandered off to ask the queen to dance, much to the approval of the Emperor.
"Perhaps he has a chance after all!" he exclaimed.
"She won't pick him, not with all these fine christians around."
"Oh, come on! You judge these people to harshly. They certainly don't seem intolerant."
"Oh, come on, Gaius. Let's go and dance."

Meanwhile, the young prince walked up to the queen.
"Excuse me, Your Majesty," he said.
"Was wondering- that is, if you are unoccupied- would you like to dance?"

[Luoffee]

Magistrate Aeuwer Aleister entered the Entrance Hall; his footfalls masked by the noise of talk and music, though he was as silent as ever. Though his mother country of Luoffee was an empire, the emperor and empress were merely figureheads; the real power rest in the hands of the magistrates.

Aeuwer's purpose at the ball, that of the young Gwendolyn, was political: Aeuwer sought to learn as much as he could of the nations that were present. Aeuwer knew that the ball held an importance for Gwendolyn, in that she was to find a husband. Aeuwer did not linger on the matter for long, as a woman of Christian faith would find Aeuwer's atheist beliefs to strongly opposing hers, despite his intelligence and physical appearance.

Aeuwer was a tall man, with pale skin and long, almost white hair; his tall frame supported by strong, lean muscle. Perhaps his most striking feature was his heterochromatic eyes, one blue and the other green, both rimmed with a faint hazel rings. Aeuwer was dressed in his countires formal attire: a black shirt and pants, both with golden threading. His shirt, a thick, padded vest-like suit, was decorated by medals of his military service, as well as those of his office.

As Aeuwer walked into a grand room, he noticed a rather odd sight: bolvine-like, animals. Aeuwer had not attended many formal events outside of his own country, as his country had been founded not long ago, but he did not know many of the guests, in fact -- as he scanned the room -- he did not recognize anyone.

"This is going to be interesting" Aeuwer thought as he scanned the room, hoping for at least one familiar face, "I guess that I will have to be more proactive than I have had to be up to this point." Aeuwer contemplated his choices for a moment -- he was the magistrate of truth: the library of his nation, and though he had served in the military, and had a breif tenure as magistrate of war, he usually found himself in his enclosed office, reading from the many records of his nation and others; writing records so that future magistrates could read them just as he did.

Aeuwer decided to try and meet the young sovereign Gwendolyn. In his mind he calculated what he would say, how he would converse with her. He remembered that the young sovereign's brother had passed away: an opening for conversation in Aeuwer's mind. He would offer his condolences and formulate what he could say from there. Aeuwer was always this careful in his actions, whether it be speaking to a queen or diplomat, or picking out a book from the library, or deciding whether to walk or ride his horse, or perhaps his bike.

[Bovidia]

As the two stood back up straight Natsumi's eyes turned to the larger of the two Elands. "Please forgive my rudeness, I am Princess Natsumi of the Songri Empire and this is my brother Prince Tadayoshi." Her voice was light and friendly, and a smile had spread across her face.

Tadayoshi's gaze lingered on the Queen for a moment longer than his sisters before following hers to the two Elands. He dipped his head at them when Natsumi introduced him but his mind was elsewhere. Queen Gwendolyn was beautiful. He had never seen anything that came even close to matching her. But it would not do for a Songri Prince to be impolite, even to a non-human. He smiled at the two Elands

"It is very nice to meet you, Princess," said Ulaanda, who was somewhat wary of the long glances and attention that she was drawing. "I am Elder Ulaanda Breetanacalf and this -- this..."

So absorbed had she been with meeting people that she had not managed to hear the clicks of little Botan's hooves as he wandered off. Ullaanda paniced slightly, raising her head out of the head-low crouch she had assumed to supplicate before the princess. She turned one way first, then the other, but all she could see was the mass of moving humans. Although her son was growing fast, he was still less than a hundred pounds and able to vanish on her. Still, even with him leaving, Ulaanda did not seem overly concerned. The Queen was so nice: she assumed that there was no trouble a young eland could get up to. He might say something awkward to the wrong person, but that could soon enough be smoothed over.

"This, er, is my first ball. It seems to bear remarkable similarity to a rumination, only with more arrivals and departures," she said, noting the arrival of a young prince.

Meanwhile, Botan had almost bolted when someone new approached him, but was now regretting it. He hardly came up to the waist of most people, and was a little awkward on his feet, resulting in more than a few "excuse mes" bleated at offended looks when he bumped into someone. More than anything, he wished to get back to his mother, to nestle around her legs and feel her protective presence. Even the other young calves of the crèche would be welcomed as familiar faces. But they were far, far away on the warm open fields of Bovidia.

Subconsciously, Botan's mind was leading him towards the wall, then towards the corner. In this shifting sea of feet -- he had never before seen so many creatures! -- it seemed to be the only constant. But he drew up short at the sight of three women, two huddled closely together and whispering to each other, the other looking at them. He stood frozen, as if afraid they might spot him.

[Xirnium]

Their ladyships Alphónsa and Edwyna followed the strange oxlike antelope with their faces, or rather those curiously expressionless, unblemished white areas of thin and bony flesh from the front part of a person’s head, upon either of which were wide, protruding shortsighted eyes and a silly open mouth, each staking their respective jealous claims between a pale narrow forehead and feeble receding chin. Invincibly anatomical, these faces seemed possessed of that same dumb animal-like incomprehension that dwelt in the eyes of the little calf, as if they were just the preliminary layouts of some macabre, grotesque abattoirist whose work it was to sculpt such items with the bleached, snipped linings of the inner gut, and who had yet to inject his bizarre creations with that obscure spark of sentience.

The sisters had never any thought for others when their vacant minds were thus occupied and restive. Everything in the room, all of the persons not of the blood around them ceased at that moment to exist. Within the mouldering gloom of their old mistrustful skulls, their ladyships Alphónsa and Edwyna had only enough room to accommodate comfortably a single thought at any time, and at the moment that thought dwelt on this spiral-horned beast. They no longer paid the slightest attention to the Danaan but instead stood staring at Botan, more in the manner that the open grassland stares at a calf than a calf stares at the open grassland.

They might have attempted to curtsy, but their purple twill weave dresses were too tight. Their ladyships Alphónsa and Edwyna were standing very close together, their bodies facing each other but their heads staring emptily in Botan’s direction. Already the contents of the evening would be for them the theme for excited reminiscences for many a long drab week and month to come.

[Slyvonia]

The Black Coach was moving in a slow trot around the time the sun was setting over this part of the world. The Black Coach moved in a ceremonial like procession as the ceremonial guard of Countess Sophia Von Swartzwald marched in a rhythmic marching formation. The guards were dressed in the livery of their Lord Count Karl Von Swartzwald the new ruling count of Slyvonia a wayward province in the Empire of the Old World.. The Livery’s colors were black and white and sliver to represent the colors of the Slyvonia emblem that was the coat of arms for the Von Swartzwalds and the County that they now ruled.

They were marching behind the coach and were in two columns of six wielding polished halberds. This was more of a ceremonial display than a gesture of war. The thirteenth member of the guard was holding the standard of the Von Swartzwald. The banner was circular with twin dragons inside black and white fields. The dragons were white in the black field and black in the white field. The sliver was for the outline of the banner. The other reason this was amazing was the fact that Slyvonia had chosen to show it’s own colors and not the twin tailed comet of the Empire itself!

Inside the Coach….

Countess Sophia Von Swartzwald was perhaps the only human in the ranks of the Von Swartzwald nobles. The Countess was not happy with her present situation. Her new husband Count Karl had chosen her and Lady Rosalie and her new boy servant to act as her escorts. The real reason was to have Lady Rosalie get in close with the nobles of other kingdoms, and empires, to gain influence with their leaders.

It was a classic move make alliances and friends to support the legitimacy of your rule and keep the other Elector counts of the Empire from forming their own alliance against you with the threat of foreign intervention. The Countess was quite surprised to see that Slyvonia was only supporting her own colors to this event and not those of her ruling Empire. If Emperor Ludwig ever heard about the newest Count of Slyvonia was acting so brazenly on the international stage. His Imperial Highness would send forces to behead her new husband!

Lady Rosalie was more concerned about the fact the Count had chosen her and her new “pet” to escort the human Countess. Lady Rosalie with her blonde hair and ivory face looked upon her new servant with cold calculating eyes. The boy Hans was his name was dressed in the livery of his lord and master the Count. He had recently sworn his oath of loyalty even after death. It was this oath before his liege lord that kept Hans alive and instead of ending up a walking corpse in Slyvonia.

Lady Rosalie decided to claim the boy as her personal servant thus protecting him from the other vampire lords and ladies of Slyvonia. The Countess may think that Lady Rosalie and her ilk were monsters but that did not change the fact they were all once human. Lady Rosalie decided to keep her new toy and see how long it would last under her cold yet dainty thumb..

Hans had a look of surprise upon seeing the destination, Slyvonia had no palace or castle as grand or spectacular as this place that they had just arrived at. The Black Coach promptly stopped and Hans opened the door of the coach and held his hand out to the noble ladies that he was escorting. He promptly kept his appearance regal and professional despite the fact his mind was still bewitched by the manipulative Lady Rosalie..

The Countess Sophia got out first and promptly thanked the Family’s new servant for his service. The peasant boy merely bowed and said, “I live to serve my Countess!”

The Countess merely nodded her head at his direction and walked toward the entrance of the building. Lady Rosalie followed behind her. Hans was behind his mistress being careful to only be five steps behind his Lady in his livery outfit.

Hans upon reaching the entrance of the building bowed before his betters and said, "I humbly ask permission to annouce your arrival?"

Lady Rosalie said in a gentle voice, "Yes, go ahead and annouce our arrival to the hosts of this ball..."

Hans nodded his head and followed his Lady's orders and entered into the foyer and headed to the nearest servant to annouce the arrival of the Slyvonian nobles..

(OOC: I am going to say this takes place a little bit after my other thread to keep the timeline from getting too confusing.)

[The Resurgent Dream]

Gwendolyn

Gwendolyn simply arched a brow at the Tyrranian Emperor. The man’s rudeness was really starting to exceed all bounds. Her lips tightened but she let the Empress extract her husband…this time. She looked back to those around her. “I do hope all of you are enjoying the Palace?”

As Tadoyashi and Natsumi entered, Gwendolyn turned to them without dismissing her current company. She folded her hands neatly before her waist. Her own gown was a soft, green affair which left the lovely porcelain skin of her shoulders and the top of her chest exposed. She wore matches elbow length gloves and her hair was up. Her posture was welcoming, inviting them to join the small group. “Welcome to the Resurgent Dream. Forgive me, my lord, my lady.” She listened to their introductions. She took Natsumi’s hand in her own gloved hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Then she offered her hand to Tadoyashi, palm down.

“This is Elder Ulaanda and her son, Botan,” Gwendolyn said, introducing the elands. “They are certainly among the most charming beings I have yet met. I hope to see more of their people.”

Being quite occupied with her present company, Gwendolyn turned her head when she heard a man screaming that she was unoccupied. While not prejudiced, Gwendolyn wanted to marry a man who shared her core beliefs. They guided her life and would need to guide a life together. However, even were that not a concern, the idea of marrying a Tyrranian had become beyond the pale. Still, she smiled sympathetically at the young man. It seemed to be more the father than the son. “Actually, Your Highness, I was speaking to Their Highnesses and the Elder here. However, I’ll be sure to save a dance for you.”

Gwendolyn was, as expected, the center of attention. It was not something she was used to. While certainly a prominent woman, crowds had always formed around her brother before. She almost failed to notice Aeuwer approaching. However, she turned to give the man a warm smile and to offer her gloved hand. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, sir?”

Gwendolyn then turned to the Slyvonians, the last the crowd forming around her. She felt a chill run up her arm, goosebumps. Still, she offered her hand. “My lords and ladies…:

Yuko

The Princess of Adoki had never felt so alone in a crowd. Her recent divorce, a situation where the general public favored her given her husband’s adultery, had made her something of a pariah among her fellow nobles whose mores were different. She was too young to be a divorcee, in her mid-twenties like her cousin the queen. She wore her night black hair short. Her complexion might be described as a light honey shade nicely complimented by her dark blue gown in the same general cut as the queen’s.

Jessica

The fat blond woman opened her eyes wide. The Xirniumite ladies seemed simply…odd. She was half tempted to simply turn on her heels and go find someone else to talk to. Were they drunk? High? Insane? She swallowed. Perhaps if she just answered their question? “I’m Lady Jessica Grantly.”

[Bovidia]

Botan froze, every muscle in his body twitching for another flight. But that was what got him into this fix in the first place. His big, dark eyes stared at them, while his legs trembled, ready to jump.

It was very kind of them to consider his horns spiraled. They had just started sprouting a week or two ago, and he was rather self-concious about them. Some of the older calves back home had far more impressive displays, and one of them even had his first real twist in the horn. The edges of Botan's were starting to twirl ever so slightly, but it would be a while yet before he got a true corkscrew. Similarly, his dewlap was little more than a loose patch of skin with a shock of brown hair on it. He had been to see the Gray Bull once, whose dewlap hung like a curtain from his chin to between his forelegs. Mother said that, if he was good, he might even look like the Gray Bull some day.

That thought gave him courage. After all, the first Gray Bull had fought off the Predators and ended their reign of terror! He raised his head and took a step forward, although his muscles did not seem to believe him. He was now close enough to overhear their conversation, especially with his big ears poked towards them. But his mother had insisted that he not embarrass her at this function, so he did not say anything but rather waited for their conversation to pause so that he could interject.

Meanwhile, Ulaanda was quite awash with all the new people being introduced to her. It was a "pleasure to make your acquaintance" here and a "lovely to meet you" there, many introductions without true interaction. Fortunately, eland appear to be smiling to humans even when they are greatly perplexed, and perhaps her sloth-like speed in following the introductions would be mistaken for quietly following the widely shifting conversation. She did sense that the Queen was a little cold to the young prince who had come to ask for a dance -- she did not know what that was, but assumed it was part of the human mating ritual -- and thought that he had not properly presented himself as a suitor. His tuft, for instance, smelled more like fruit than it did like urine; if the Queen could not smell his odor, how was she to know how virile he was? After all, she would be the one saddled with the burden of raising any child; it was only proper that she pick the strongest and most fit of the males.

On that note, Ulaanda spared a brief thought for her little calf, wandering around without her. She could call to him with a sound most humans described as a "creaky door", but that was not yet needed. Most likely he had found some small shrubbery to hide behind and she would not have to worry until it was time to nurse him again.

[Songri]

As Gwendolyn offered Tadoyashi her hand he bowed and lightly kissed it. "Tadoyashi and Natsumi are fine, your majesty. Thank you for inviting us here. The Celyn Palace is amazing, even our own Saphire Palace pales in comparison." When he was interupted by a man practically screaming at Gwendolyn inside he frowed, how dare someone address a person such as Gwendolyn in that manner. His face however did not show any sign of his annoyance, but his eyes did flicker over to Natsumi's for a moment. However he needn't have bothered as Natsumi was already smiling at the man.

When Gwendolyn said she was occupied before the man had a chance to otherwise respond Natsumi piped up "Could I ask you the honor of this dance, noble sir?" Her voice was warm and her face friendly. While she had guessed that Gwendolyn was annoyed by him she would take no chances. It would be best if she could divert any other potential suitor away from the Queen.

As more people approached the Queen Tadoyashi looked each over in turn. From what he had seen so far the only people here who were potential suitors was himself and the man who had interupted earlier. But when his gaze came to the last group to approach the queen he felt his body stiffen and his hand again reached down for his non-existant pistol. Something about most of that group was wrong.