A Summer Rite (Open Party RP)

[The Emerald Dragon]

Quietly walking away from Jacob, he placed some money in his pocket to thank him for the beer. His face was still as red as a strawberry, and with his blueish white hair, he became subject to a lot of comments about strawberries and cream. After those comments became too strange to listen to, he walked away. A thin cover of sweat, still covered by the strong scent of luxurious herbs and spices covered his clothing but wasn't yet noticeable. He prayed to God, that he wouldn't run into Princess Nailin or someone important.

[Kytalan]

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Nesar. Nor do I have an excellent recollection of how my party arrived here, but I'm just going with it. Uh, nice robe you have." Fjúri himself had one on, of course, along with a matching shawl, but though both were neatly embroidered the material quality was well below that of the Roanian's garment. "And greetings to you too, Lady Daeri." He felt a strong urge to touch her breasts, not out of sexual interest but rather of pure curiosity, but resisted the temptation. "Of course, this being a high-society event, what spot of importance do you hold in Roania? I myself serve as deputy governor of a... reputed... province in my homeland."

Cimma and his wife, Selu, heard the loud shattering of glass from across the garden and jumped to their feet. "Is there a fight going on? I love fights!"

Selu stepped on top of her seat to look above the crowd. "No fight, dear." Soldiers. All the same. "Just someone important getting very upset."

"Let me see!" Cimma climbed onto his own chair to get a clearer view. He saw Selevar tensing up and screaming at Wilson, then being pacified by the Empress as the apparent offender was dragged away. "Someone important? That's, wow, those are the rulers of Roania. Wonder what upset him so." He pushed through the crowd to get to Wilson and Malhim. "I'll be back in a moment, love. Just trying to figure out what's going on."

I'll just get another drink, she thought, and started making her way toward the bar. Though she didn't care much for the taste of peaches, alcohol was alcohol across the universe, and she just needed something to suppress her quiet loathing of the situation she was in.

I felt tempted to use bold to get WER's attention, but then I felt like you old people would think I was being uppity trying to copy your style.

[The Boundless Legion]

Before the Imperious Fury...

"Together, now."
The Captain's flanking delegates immediately snapped to attention and pulled up their right hands to their brows in salute. Moments later the Captain did, as well.
"The Boundless Legion's duty is to the galaxy, Your Grace. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Captain Marcus, of the Dreadnought Defiant."
There was little that readily phased many of them, as many military commanders they had faced were usually lobbing fanciful and obscene epithets at their sterns whilst escaping daringly from certain doom.
Captain-General Selevar was, as their briefing put it, essentially the Lady's right hand. And if her right hand was here, it would most certainly be enclosed in the most delicate metaphorical chokehold any of them can recall being in. His reputation well preceded him...so, the Captain chose to be diplomatic.
"We're just doing what we believe is right. It's...understandably a bit rare we receive formal recognition for it, Your Grace."

[The Emerald Dragon]

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Nesar. Nor do I have an excellent recollection of how my party arrived here, but I'm just going with it. Uh, nice robe you have." Fjúri himself had one on, of course, along with a matching shawl, but though both were neatly embroidered the material quality was well below that of the Roanian's garment. "And greetings to you too, Lady Daeri." He felt a strong urge to touch her breasts, not out of sexual interest but rather of pure curiosity, but resisted the temptation. "Of course, this being a high-society event, what spot of importance do you hold in Roania? I myself serve as deputy governor of a... reputed... province in my homeland."

Cimma and his wife, Selu, heard the loud shattering of glass from across the garden and jumped to their feet. "Is there a fight going on? I love fights!"

Selu stepped on top of her seat to look above the crowd. "No fight, dear." Soldiers. All the same. "Just someone important getting very upset."

"Let me see!" Cimma climbed onto his own chair to get a clearer view. He saw Selevar tensing up and screaming at Wilson, then being pacified by the Empress as the apparent offender was dragged away. "Someone important? That's, wow, those are the rulers of Roania. Wonder what upset him so." He pushed through the crowd to get to Wilson and Malhim. "I'll be back in a moment, love. Just trying to figure out what's going on."

I'll just get another drink, she thought, and started making her way toward the bar. Though she didn't care much for the taste of peaches, alcohol was alcohol across the universe, and she just needed something to suppress her quiet loathing of the situation she was in.

I felt tempted to use bold to get WER's attention, but then I felt like you old people would think I was being uppity trying to copy your style.

Oh great, more attention to be bought in my direction. Aata thought to himself, as his reddening blush started to fade. The tickling of glass made his ears prick, amongst his spiked whitey-blue hair. A masculine voice could be heard, raging, before inexplicably calming itself upon the urging of a more feminine voice. Aata looked down at his shirt, and the sweat was sticking to his muscled chest. I better pull this away from my chest, or the girls'll be all over me, like wasps. Aata urgently thought to himself, before pulling the drenched cotton, which still wasn't visibly drenched when Aata looked in a window at his reflection.

[Roania]

Tiburon

ArchChancellor Kouran beamed. The incident with the Grand Duke and the stranger had been noted, of course, but he had pushed it to the side as so much political clutter. "Well, this is an ancient ceremony, originally directed to the Spirits within the Peach Trees. In the days of the ancients, of course, it ended with a virgin being sacrificed; now it's merely a ceremony as you saw. The idea is to welcome the beauty of summer with the most beautiful creature within the empire... the ne... the Princess," he corrected himself with a visible effort, "the Princess NaiLin has been chosen for that role this year. Hardly much of a surprise, I suppose." The line moved forward ever so slowly, while the ArchChancellor continued with the lecture; bringing up fertility rites, the spirits, the importance of peaches in the various cultures that made up the Roanian state as simple symbols of femininity and youth.

He reached up and pulled a peach free from a branch, chewing it thoughtfully as he continued. "The peach, to the ancient Nah culture, was of course..." That was how he talked; long great gulfs of information with pauses to fill his mouth with food (though he was polite enough not to talk with his mouth full.) By the time the impromptu lecture ended, everyone nearby knew more of the history of the Empire and peaches within its culture than they had previously; and they were somewhat close to the buffet table; this automatically drew Kouran back to a more interesting topic. "Now, as to what to serve yourself?" What followed was a potted explanation of the various dishes on offer, coupled with "You probably won't care for the eggs, they'll be somewhat bitter..." and "Try the lizards, they're splendid this time of year."

Dread Lady Nathicana, Zero-0ne, Scolopendra

Damalin nodded in recognition. "I am sure the Grand Duke can handle whatever problem arises." He clicked his heels together and smiled a cool smile. "I am, as you have no doubt been advised," His eyes twinkled, but only slightly; there was neither approval nor disapproval there, only a recognition of the facts, "Asen Damalin, the crown prince of this Empire." A smile played on thin lips. "A new title, I'm afraid, but one I will grow into, I'm sure." His cool eyes appraised the three 'barbarians', and his eyes wandered to 'Fulanah al-Fulaniyya'. Where they stayed.

Of course, part of it was the usual teenage curiosity about an attractive female form. But something flashed in his eyes, and his smile grew somewhat plastic as he bowed ever so slightly in greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet such charming ladies, and so excellent a servant of the grand Dominion." There was no question of awarding Iballa Ipolla her claimed title of 'Supreme Emperor'; the thought of doing so didn't even cross Damalin's mind. He nodded to her again, though, regardless. "Your Eminence," Nice, neutral, hopefully not stepping any toes. "Lady." That was to Fulanah. "Lord." Mancuso. "And what did all of you think of this evening's performance?" He asked, without further preamble, a curious tone coming to his voice as he asked.

Kytalan

"I've always thought that the best parties are the ones where you don't remember how you arrived." Nesar nodded, a smile coming to his pleasant face. His wife rolled her eyes, but slipped her arm around his anyway. "My wife is, of course, the... in your tongue you would call her the Great Secretary of Justice and Law. I... I am a man of no importance." He bowed slightly.

Daeri rolled her eyes again. "My husband is the cousin of the Lady of Ten Thousand Years, and Duke of the House of Cheruv. He's a surprisingly important person, actually." She covered her plump lips to hide her smile, and rolled her shoulders back, causing those ripe breasts that had drawn Fjúri's attention to bounce once or twice. Daeri was well-aware that she was being stared at, of course, and completely accepted it; it was par for the course, she believed, when you were as beautiful as she was.

OOC: You can use any style you like, Kytalan.

Kytalan, Western European Republic

Malhim was having a nervous breakdown as the newcomer approached. "I don't know what you think you were doing, but I just saved your life! I mean... yes, of course the Princess is very pretty. She'd be flattered to hear you thought so. Maybe I can arrange a meeting. But I'd have to know you weren't going to put your life, and more importantly, mine at risk!"

The Boundless Legion

"And it does you credit, gentlemen." Selevar returned to his previous task with barely a sniff of fury; the insolent fool had been withdrawn from his presence, and therefore there was more important matters to attend to. "I have always believed that valor should be honored..." His eyes searched the captain's thoughtfully, and he smiled ever so slightly. "But perhaps you could do me a bit... more personal problem. Tell me, captain... are any of you three fine men married? Or do you have children? You see, I have a daughter."

"Yes." Selevar repeated, half-to-himself, "I have a daughter. And it isn't a bad thing, by any means. But... well, you can see what it leads to. People demanding her hand, people..." His eyes wandered over the field until he found his errant child, talking to that... kitsuite. "Taking advantage of her... people who perhaps are not best suited for her." His eyes drifted back to the captain, weighing the man thoughtfully. "And perhaps there is a better way. Do you follow me?"

[The Emerald Dragon]

Tiburon

ArchChancellor Kouran beamed. The incident with the Grand Duke and the stranger had been noted, of course, but he had pushed it to the side as so much political clutter. "Well, this is an ancient ceremony, originally directed to the Spirits within the Peach Trees. In the days of the ancients, of course, it ended with a virgin being sacrificed; now it's merely a ceremony as you saw. The idea is to welcome the beauty of summer with the most beautiful creature within the empire... the ne... the Princess," he corrected himself with a visible effort, "the Princess NaiLin has been chosen for that role this year. Hardly much of a surprise, I suppose." The line moved forward ever so slowly, while the ArchChancellor continued with the lecture; bringing up fertility rites, the spirits, the importance of peaches in the various cultures that made up the Roanian state as simple symbols of femininity and youth.

He reached up and pulled a peach free from a branch, chewing it thoughtfully as he continued. "The peach, to the ancient Nah culture, was of course..." That was how he talked; long great gulfs of information with pauses to fill his mouth with food (though he was polite enough not to talk with his mouth full.) By the time the impromptu lecture ended, everyone nearby knew more of the history of the Empire and peaches within its culture than they had previously; and they were somewhat close to the buffet table; this automatically drew Kouran back to a more interesting topic. "Now, as to what to serve yourself?" What followed was a potted explanation of the various dishes on offer, coupled with "You probably won't care for the eggs, they'll be somewhat bitter..." and "Try the lizards, they're splendid this time of year."

Dread Lady Nathicana, Zero-0ne, Scolopendra

Damalin nodded in recognition. "I am sure the Grand Duke can handle whatever problem arises." He clicked his heels together and smiled a cool smile. "I am, as you have no doubt been advised," His eyes twinkled, but only slightly; there was neither approval nor disapproval there, only a recognition of the facts, "Asen Damalin, the crown prince of this Empire." A smile played on thin lips. "A new title, I'm afraid, but one I will grow into, I'm sure." His cool eyes appraised the three 'barbarians', and his eyes wandered to 'Fulanah al-Fulaniyya'. Where they stayed.

Of course, part of it was the usual teenage curiosity about an attractive female form. But something flashed in his eyes, and his smile grew somewhat plastic as he bowed ever so slightly in greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet such charming ladies, and so excellent a servant of the grand Dominion." There was no question of awarding Iballa Ipolla her claimed title of 'Supreme Emperor'; the thought of doing so didn't even cross Damalin's mind. He nodded to her again, though, regardless. "Your Eminence," Nice, neutral, hopefully not stepping any toes. "Lady." That was to Fulanah. "Lord." Mancuso. "And what did all of you think of this evening's performance?" He asked, without further preamble, a curious tone coming to his voice as he asked.

Kytalan

"I've always thought that the best parties are the ones where you don't remember how you arrived." Nesar nodded, a smile coming to his pleasant face. His wife rolled her eyes, but slipped her arm around his anyway. "My wife is, of course, the... in your tongue you would call her the Great Secretary of Justice and Law. I... I am a man of no importance." He bowed slightly.

Daeri rolled her eyes again. "My husband is the cousin of the Lady of Ten Thousand Years, and Duke of the House of Cheruv. He's a surprisingly important person, actually." She covered her plump lips to hide her smile, and rolled her shoulders back, causing those ripe breasts that had drawn Fjúri's attention to bounce once or twice. Daeri was well-aware that she was being stared at, of course, and completely accepted it; it was par for the course, she believed, when you were as beautiful as she was.

OOC: You can use any style you like, Kytalan.

Kytalan, Western European Republic

Malhim was having a nervous breakdown as the newcomer approached. "I don't know what you think you were doing, but I just saved your life! I mean... yes, of course the Princess is very pretty. She'd be flattered to hear you thought so. Maybe I can arrange a meeting. But I'd have to know you weren't going to put your life, and more importantly, mine at risk!"

The Boundless Legion

"And it does you credit, gentlemen." Selevar returned to his previous task with barely a sniff of fury; the insolent fool had been withdrawn from his presence, and therefore there was more important matters to attend to. "I have always believed that valor should be honored..." His eyes searched the captain's thoughtfully, and he smiled ever so slightly. "But perhaps you could do me a bit... more personal problem. Tell me, captain... are any of you three fine men married? Or do you have children? You see, I have a daughter."

"Yes." Selevar repeated, half-to-himself, "I have a daughter. And it isn't a bad thing, by any means. But... well, you can see what it leads to. People demanding her hand, people..." His eyes wandered over the field until he found his errant child, talking to that... kitsuite. "Taking advantage of her... people who perhaps are not best suited for her." His eyes drifted back to the captain, weighing the man thoughtfully. "And perhaps there is a better way. Do you follow me?"

I could use one of those... Thought Aata dreamily, so, without thinking and acting on his lessons in the Kolikul forest back home, he climbed up the Peach tree. After grabbing a peach and falling backwards from the tree, Aata took a bite. This is so juicy and tasty! Aata thought excitedly, as his eyes lit up and he took chunks out of the peach. He soon heard the vague word 'cute' which made him almost choke on a slice of peach in his mouth, he swallowed weakly, before hopping onto a branch and seeing if anyone had seen him.

OOC: I'm going bed for the night, i'll be around 16:15 GMT.

[Kytalan]

"I knew you would have to be of some importance, Mr. Nesar." Fjúri quickly glanced again at Daeri's bosom. "It seems our cultures are not so far apart when it comes to marrying others of high standing. You know, my own wife is a military officer. The brawn to my brains, I suppose. She'd be here too, I'd bet, if she were home more often. Anyway! As cousin of your Empress, what can you tell me about the family?"

Across a sea of respected attendees, Cimma approached Wilson and Malhim. "What's going on? Sorry, I'm just curious what you could have said to irritate Selevar so. Something about his daughter?" He waited. "Oh, and I'd like to introduce myself. I'm Governor Nykko Cimma, here for... well, I don't know why I'm here. Who are you?"

Meanwhile Selu walked back from the bar holding a peachy drink in one hand and tugging her shawl around her neck with the other. Instead of drinking slowly to enjoy the decadent cocktail, she muttered a toast to herself, "Well, here's to a nosy husband and an overly gregarious subordinate," and slammed down half the glass, without her expression deviating from a scowl.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Another Intro ...

It was inexcusable, really. She was late, rather than fashionably early. Of course, had Lucian not spilled his juice on her dress while they were disembarking, it might not have been the case. Such were the trials and tribulations of wrangling twins.

Naiya was prepared, of course. One had to be, especially when traveling abroad. And this far out, too. There had been some complaints, yes, but in truth there was no place safer for them than right here with her, lest it be with her and their unbeknownst-to-most-adoptive father.

Given the event, and the tone set, it had further been decided, mainly by her, that her security would monitor things quietly. Uninvasively. And that at the first hint of trouble, she would contact them for a swift retrieval. Not that she expected any real trouble, mind. But it tended to put her security team’s dander up whenever she chose not to be surrounded by them the way some felt she ought.

This was no longer a time of war preparation, and they would all just have to get used to the idea. That, and the fact that there were some things she simply didn’t consider to be any real threat anymore. Not if she chose to reveal her true nature. Even so, her training alone could account for a great deal. And again … this was a celebration. Not a turkey shoot.

She walked briskly yet with the appropriate poise expected, her second choice of dress. A modest white cheongsam decorated lightly with peach blossoms, and reasonably heeled sandals did not add to the problem of pushing the tandem jogging stroller containing her sons, Gabriel and Lucian. They were looking about with interest at their new surroundings, speaking to one another in what she called ‘twin’. She and Marcus had done it when they were younger, and still did on occasion. It was something personal between pairs, and it made her smile to see it in the next generation.

“All well on this end,” she murmured quietly into her Spook set, arriving in time to just catch the end of the presentation, and take in an accounting of the crowd that she could see from her vantage point. The expected confirmation came as she clued in to the minor kerfluffle involving a diplomat she wasn’t familiar with. Naiya winced inwardly at that. Faux pas already, and it had barely gotten started.

The oddity was the princess, in her mind. Yes, time passed differently in some places, but she was certain the order of children had been somewhat different, all the same. Something odd was going on with all of it, but it wasn’t really her place to bring it up. Not here, not now in any case. Something had been missed. Intel was going to hear from her about that particular point.

And … what was that, teenagers carrying on? Or perhaps a bit older? Still … and that lad there. Was he ill? His shirt seemed to be inordinately wet. She shuddered at the thought. That level of perspiration was unhealthy, surely. A fever, perhaps. She didn’t really have a change of clothes to offer him that would fit, or she would have asked. He seemed ridiculously nervous as well. If not for her personal promise not to pry without real cause or need, she might have tried to take a peek.

And that brought her up and to the present. One never knew where other sensitives might be, and who might clue in to such meddling. Best to mind one’s own business and simply enjoy the day, as it was meant to. And of course, sample the peaches. She was certain the boys would enjoy that as well, and likely as messily as could be managed, bless their little hearts. She'd also learned to keep her dark brown hair up when she could, free from grabby little hands, which would soon no doubt, be sticky.

Naiya nodded and smiled to those she passed and was not acquainted with, which were many it seemed, and made her way to one of the trees. Was that … “Mancuso?” she murmured aloud, her eyes narrowing for a moment. Taking in his company, she stifled a grin. It had to be Zia as well, surely. And she would have to say hello to Ipolla.

Nesar was there as well, she saw – and his lovely wife. That still boggled the mind in some ways. And in some ways, perhaps not so much. She did hope they were happy and doing well, at the very least. The man was still in great part a mystery, and one she on occasion, when absolutely honest with herself, admitted she regretted not having gotten to know more about. Still.

The peaches.

Reaching up, she plucked one gently from the tree, then took a bite, savoring the sweet taste for a moment. “Oh, that really is nice,” she admitted, breaking off a piece, then splitting it again and handing it to each of the little ones. They watched one another as they sampled it, as if wanting to see each other’s reactions, and soon they were asking for more, which she happily provided.

There would be time to greet their hosts as well, seeing as they were currently engaged, and so soon after that bit of unpleasantness. No need to dominate anyone’s time, nor call undue attention, considering her tardiness. For now, sampling and sharing the peach was enough, and simply taking in the sunshine and fresh air.

[New Naggoroth]

Rudan Prime. It hadn't changed over the years she had been away.

Scarlet Drakharn, now Major Drakharn, hadn't been home in nearly a decade. The last time she had been here was just after the birth of her youngest half-sister, Kaelyssa. She hadn't seen her three other siblings over that time either. Her duties hadn't allowed her much time away from her ship, especially after she had been elevated to the position of executive officer. However, as it happened, the Eventide was undergoing a major refit, allowing the eldest Drakharn scion to catch up on several months of overdue leave.

So as coincidence would have it, Scarlet had arrived in time for the celebrations. Not that she had technically received a formal invitation, but her name alone had allowed her entrance. She didn't recognize any of the dignitaries present. Which was well enough, she supposed, given none of them likely knew or remembered her, either.

Scarlet wore her uniform to the event, and while she otherwise looked resplendent in her perfectly pressed black, brass-trimmed uniform, she regretted the decision to wear it almost immediately while she stood amid the crowd in the Closed City. The shade offered by the orchard was insufficient to stifle the heat and humidity of the warm summer sun, and already few trickles of sweat had escaped from beneath the brim of her cap. Her people didn't like the heat; coming from cold worlds, they just didn't do well in it. But, stoic to a fault, they would never admit as such out loud.

With that spirit of enduring stoicism held close to heart, Major Scarlet Drakharn patiently awaited her turn to approach and visit with her cousin, the Lady of Ten Thousand Years; heat, humidity and poor choice of attire be damned.

[Scolopendra]

Roania [Crown Prince]/Zero-One/Dread Lady Nathicana [Mancuso]

"Without doubt," Ipolla answered carefully to the young man's self-appraisal. She gauged him how, in a previous life, she would've gauged a boot slick-sleeve. Self-confident, collected, calm, respectful as far as she could see. Maybe laying it on a bit thick by suggesting that Mballa was 'charming' but seeing him eyeball her 'aide' led her to figure that it was just guilt by association as well as a semi-meaningless pleasantry. She made a mental note to be particularly careful in her phrasing around this one.

"I found it interesting," she stated clearly, as 'fascinating' would've been too much. "Experiencing and learning about new cultures are things that the Federated Segments value highly. I must be sure to thank the Empress personally for her invitation and the opportunities it has offered." She recognized that these could be interpreted as platitudes, so she decided to go into further detail to prove that yes, she was actually paying attention. "Coming from a younger civilization that is... less inclined to incorporate ancient traditions into its governance, the active participation of the ruling family in such a ritual is new to me." Her immediate analysis of that was too cynical, according to headware-accelerated self-reflection, so she skipped over it. "I suppose this is an effect of being such a"--not old--"historied civilization, with a stable form of government going back a long time."

Stability was indeed a virtue, and one the Segments prized relatively highly. It was, to them, a shame that for the Roanians it came at such a cost, but such were differences in culture that they could hardly make any effort to, well, help. At least, not obviously. The Segments' very existence, and its resulting cultural output, were probably subversive enough as far as Roanian conventional wisdom was concerned.

[Zero-One]

Mancuso/Ipolla/Damalin

'Doctor Fulanniyah' certainly did not fail to notice either Mancuso's winks--of which she was always appreciative--nor the Crown Prince's interest, in which she was less interested except as an opportunity for a bit of fun. Not the kind of fun her sister-in-mind was known for, but rather the kind she was known for. Taking advantage of the peach her partner in crime procured for her, she bit into it slowly, delicately, capturing its juice with her lips as she subtly modified her stance to be a little more loose, a touch more fluid while the Scolopendran talked. To be perfectly honest, she found herself quite impressed with Ipolla's improvement as a diplomat. While the Supreme Emperor still continued to speak in relativley short, declarative sentences, at least they weren't as absolute as they once were.

She'd have to tease Polly about getting soft in her old age at the first suitable opportunity. Probability analysis based on known personality factors indicated that Polly would most likely retort that she was one to talk, what with being quite a good deal older and her wink-and-a-nudge 'friendship' with Mancuso. This would of course be a fair assessment, if indeed that prediction turned out to be true. Or maybe she'd be surprised. She liked surprises, usually.

"I would be interested in learning more about this festivals origins and historical evolution," she said, casually looking over the freshly denuded peach pit in her still mostly clean fingers. "One would have to presume that given its timing, the chosen symbols, and certain parallels between both similar traditions in other societies and various realms of biology that there is probably no small association with fertility." She barely emphasized that last word, glancing to catch Damalin's gaze. Meanwhile, her more relaxed posture did cause her to brush against Mancuso's arm, part of their mutually developed thieves' cant. Even if she had made certain... improvements to his stock chassis in the interim since the coronation, she found it more amusing to take advantage of their fundamental mutual understanding and the language of gestures they'd naturally developed to keep their inside jokes inside.

[Roania]

Scolopendra, Zero-One, Dread Lady Nathicana

Damalin looked... disappointed. That was the word for it. He was good, but he wasn't good enough to keep it from entering his voice, either. "My... 'sister'... has a way about her." The use of the familiar term for another member of the imperial family was a tell, even if it wasn't alone. There was a moment where there was absolutely no concealment of his feelings; utter distaste came into his eyes and his lips visibly curled. Roanians generally wear their emotions lightly, as it wouldn't do to truly commit oneself to a position like that. But something had Damalin truly rattled, and it wasn't necessarily Fulanniyah. Once the emotional moment passed and the usual expression of bored superiority reasserted itself, he did watch as Fulanniyah devoured the juicy peach; his expression growing a bit more vacant as warring considerations entered battle in his mind. "I... yes, I suppose there's a certain... association with fertility." Obviously, Damalin was usually an eager observer at this ceremony, though he'd not admit it under torture.

"The Lady of Ten Thousand Years believed that it would be an excellent opportunity for my 'sis'... I mean, the Princess to be introduced formally, as she has now attained her age of majority, and the Princess agreed. The Grand Duke didn't initially, but he changed his mind." Something about Damalin's tone indicated he disapproved on multiple levels, and the slight shrug (something Roanians are excellent at) conveyed that he was well aware no one had bothered to ask his opinion, and was somewhat resentful of the whole thing.

Kytalan, Western European Republic

Malhim snapped to attention the moment Cimma approached. "Nothing out of the realm of the ordinary. I'm Vice Presi... I mean. He's Vice President Anthony Wilson of the Western European Republic, and I'm Malhim Fell, Great Secretary of Foreign Relations." Despite the claim that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on, Malhim was so rattled as to be visibly sweating -- something no noble Roanian mandarin would under ordinary circumstances be caught dead doing. "Everything with the Illumined Princess is quite fine. Quite fine! Isn't that right, Mister Wilson?" Without waiting for an answer, Malhim bowed low to Cimma. "It is an honor, a pleasure, a delight to meet you, Governor. I'm sorry to hear you don't understand your presence, perhaps I may be of some assistance in this question?"

Kytalan

Nesar laughed. "I could tell you all sorts of things about Ailies..." Daeri gave a strangled growl in the back of her throat, and Nesar now rolled his eyes. "I mean, the glorious Lady of Ten Thousand Years. The Lady of Ten Thousand Years and Her husband, the Grand Duke, have three children. You no doubt saw the Princess," Something about that word caused a slight gloss to cover Daeri's eyes, and she disengaged herself from her husband and went to grab her own drink from the bar. Nesar smiled smugly. "The Crown Prince is no doubt wandering about. I'll see if I can arrange an introduction to both of them if you like." Nesar shrugged, this shrug indicating that it would be a matter of supreme ease for someone as important as he was to arrange anything for anyone. "And the younger Prince is no doubt wandering the place with my daughter."

Daeri returned with a peachy drink, her glazed expression long gone. She joined Selu over by the side and smiled slightly at the other female. "I'd be careful. Those have a nasty kick, even if they do taste sweet."

The Emerald Dragon

"I don't think you should be up there." A young voice said from the bottom of the tree. "Mother says it's terribly rude to the spirits to climb their homes like that." The speaker was a young boy dressed in bright blue robes, holding the hands of an equally young girl. The boy was bright-haired and blue-eyed, the girl's hair so black as to be almost blue.

[The Emerald Dragon]

Scolopendra, Zero-One, Dread Lady Nathicana

Damalin looked... disappointed. That was the word for it. He was good, but he wasn't good enough to keep it from entering his voice, either. "My... 'sister'... has a way about her." The use of the familiar term for another member of the imperial family was a tell, even if it wasn't alone. There was a moment where there was absolutely no concealment of his feelings; utter distaste came into his eyes and his lips visibly curled. Roanians generally wear their emotions lightly, as it wouldn't do to truly commit oneself to a position like that. But something had Damalin truly rattled, and it wasn't necessarily Fulanniyah. Once the emotional moment passed and the usual expression of bored superiority reasserted itself, he did watch as Fulanniyah devoured the juicy peach; his expression growing a bit more vacant as warring considerations entered battle in his mind. "I... yes, I suppose there's a certain... association with fertility." Obviously, Damalin was usually an eager observer at this ceremony, though he'd not admit it under torture.

"The Lady of Ten Thousand Years believed that it would be an excellent opportunity for my 'sis'... I mean, the Princess to be introduced formally, as she has now attained her age of majority, and the Princess agreed. The Grand Duke didn't initially, but he changed his mind." Something about Damalin's tone indicated he disapproved on multiple levels, and the slight shrug (something Roanians are excellent at) conveyed that he was well aware no one had bothered to ask his opinion, and was somewhat resentful of the whole thing.

Kytalan, Western European Republic

Malhim snapped to attention the moment Cimma approached. "Nothing out of the realm of the ordinary. I'm Vice Presi... I mean. He's Vice President Anthony Wilson of the Western European Republic, and I'm Malhim Fell, Great Secretary of Foreign Relations." Despite the claim that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on, Malhim was so rattled as to be visibly sweating -- something no noble Roanian mandarin would under ordinary circumstances be caught dead doing. "Everything with the Illumined Princess is quite fine. Quite fine! Isn't that right, Mister Wilson?" Without waiting for an answer, Malhim bowed low to Cimma. "It is an honor, a pleasure, a delight to meet you, Governor. I'm sorry to hear you don't understand your presence, perhaps I may be of some assistance in this question?"

Kytalan

Nesar laughed. "I could tell you all sorts of things about Ailies..." Daeri gave a strangled growl in the back of her throat, and Nesar now rolled his eyes. "I mean, the glorious Lady of Ten Thousand Years. The Lady of Ten Thousand Years and Her husband, the Grand Duke, have three children. You no doubt saw the Princess," Something about that word caused a slight gloss to cover Daeri's eyes, and she disengaged herself from her husband and went to grab her own drink from the bar. Nesar smiled smugly. "The Crown Prince is no doubt wandering about. I'll see if I can arrange an introduction to both of them if you like." Nesar shrugged, this shrug indicating that it would be a matter of supreme ease for someone as important as he was to arrange anything for anyone. "And the younger Prince is no doubt wandering the place with my daughter."

Daeri returned with a peachy drink, her glazed expression long gone. She joined Selu over by the side and smiled slightly at the other female. "I'd be careful. Those have a nasty kick, even if they do taste sweet."

The Emerald Dragon

"I don't think you should be up there." A young voice said from the bottom of the tree. "Mother says it's terribly rude to the spirits to climb their homes like that." The speaker was a young boy dressed in bright blue robes, holding the hands of an equally young girl. The boy was bright-haired and blue-eyed, the girl's hair so black as to be almost blue.

Roania

Uh... mumbled Aata quietly. He was surprised that he'd actually been caught climbing the tree, it was his good luck that these were only two young kids and not adults. Of course, if they had any sense, they'd leave him to get all the fruit he wanted. Otherwise, he'd have to go out... there, and be assaulted by an army of female admirers. His cheeks blushed crimson at the thought of such an event, and this contrasted his hair quite stunningly. He looked more like a tulip than a person.

OOC: There's going to be one hell of a thunderstorm, over here. I might lose my internet.

[Scolopendra]

Roania [Crown Prince]/Zero-One/Nathicana[Mancuso]

Now that was something that didn't bode particularly well. This kid was next in line to the throne and apparently had a grudge against his sister. The Supreme Emperor couldn't quite tell why: sibling rivalry? More used to seeing pretty girls that weren't his sister at this sort of thing? Some sort of weird no she wasn't even going to entertain that thought. Maybe he just wanted the attention she was getting. Sure, he was young, and had plenty of time to build some character and burn that out of his system but if he never had any particular hard knocks to do so--well, that could be problematic. It was also the worst kind of problematic: the kind where neither she individually nor the Segments collectively had any leverage to affect. It'd bear watching, in any case.

She glanced over at her aide and suppressed a frown. Then a thought popped into her head and she suppressed that frown even harder, which just meant she'd gone back to looking stern for a moment. The last thing she needed was to be distracted. On the plus side, it appeared to be distracting the prince as well and so Mballa put her greater experience in repression to work and used the opportunity to her own advantage. "It is, perhaps, for the best." That seemed a good way to recognize his displeasure without calling him out on it. "It does seem harmless enough; what harm could it do?" This she asked with an inflection of curiosity. Maybe she could draw his concerns out for analysis.

[Zero-One]

Mancuso/Ipolla/Damalin

The 'doctor' idly noted Polly's disapproving look as she sucked her fingertips clean. Impolite, perhaps, but so was befuddling a teenager for kicks... and perhaps befuddling a middle-aged woman as well. Oh, the mutual sniping they'd have over that. She liked Polly, she really did, and she was pretty sure that it was mutual, even if the Scolopendran would never admit to it even on pain of death. In fact, not only was she not taking things lying down, she... was taking advantage of the situation to pump the kid for information?

The tall woman grinned for multiple reasons as she teasingly made eye contact with the Prince again. He was a curious character; clearly displeased about something. The "doctor's" hypotheses broadly mirrored the Scolopendran's, and she found theorizing around the puzzle even more interesting with the limited tools she had available in this form. She could finally see why Magnus always operated on a handicap. How she estimated things, however, it couldn't simply be hormonal and missing out on the usual pleasures of the festival. Perhaps something more basic, far simpler. He was the Crown Prince, superior, aloof, crowds parting around him, probably often the center of attention as he should be in the patriarchal society of the Radiant Empire. But he was the son of Empress Alessa, who had come into a sort of liberation in her own right thanks to the tall woman's sister-in-ind. And his older sister was a sister, a young woman, who would naturally have a closer connection to their mother, the current seat of power, than the son, who was expected to take up that mantle at some point. Sibling rivalry multiplied by royalty could be most disruptive, as histories of civil wars and less bloody familial purges showed.

Then there was of course a matter of collating and updating data. The Roanian imperial family was a close-knit, closed affair. It was only in events like these that membership was even publicized, just in case, but she did know people who knew people and something did not add up.

She checked her database, last updated during Naiya's coronation.

One data point stuck out with facts uncoordinated to the present. NaiLin was older than Damalin, the older son. The second son--

A few more avatars cross-checked this against other collated reports and information. There were no smoking guns; contrary to popular belief, she wasn't everywhere. However, there was precedent and, from experiments she'd never admit to doing based on randomized genetic material she'd never admit to having, biological possibility...

It would indeed bear watching, to borrow a phrase.

"Indeed, as the padishahbanu says, it cannot be all bad." She let a little sultriness drip into the last phrase. "After all, it is an opportunity to meet new people from around the multiverse, always an important opportunity for a future leader to have... and it appears to be an opportunity you are taking full advantage of, to your credit. Please, tell us more about yourself, Your Highness."

The title, as she said it, carried no obsequiousness. Only... interest.

[Sunset]

The Empress...

Demi nodded again, "I suppose I am. Ambassador Demi Love, or Demi if you prefer, Your Majesty."

"It was the Grand Secretary Rimeil who mentioned the Peach Ceremony, though in passing," Demi replied as she swept the side of her dress out from under her legs and sat, crossing her legs at the ankle to keep them tucked under her chair. A moment of eye contact and then she turned, though not completely, to search the crowd for the by-now somewhat familiar face of the older Roanian. Not immediately seeing him, she turned back to the Empress, "I'm sure he's here somewhere. He did seem rather pleased with the idea of someone who didn't ask for the Sun and the Moon upon their arrival on foreign shores."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Roania/Zero-One/Scolopendra

Mancuso had no problem taking the back seat to the conversation. He was, after all, simply a common citizen here, with no title or responsibility, other than to not embarrass the women he was with. He found he enjoyed the freedom the situation offered.

And it left him with the ability to observe his lovely companion at play. He would sooner cut off his own right arm than interrupt that. The telltale smile that played across his lips was ample indication of his own thought processes as he watched the interaction between young prince and the good ‘doctor’.

He savored his own fruit contentedly, appreciating the sweet flavor while acknowledging the almost inconsequential point of contact with a slight shift in his own posture that was fluid and natural to the casual observer. It was all part of the game, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

This young prince now, there was a problem. Of course, it wasn’t his problem, and the subtle hints he was picking up from present company told him they were aware. Their words, gently probing. His recollection of the last time he’d seen the Imperial family was a bit hazy, admittedly. His mind had been firmly on other things, and international diplomacy had nothing whatsoever to do with any of it. Still. There was one point he was fairly convinced of. A microflexion of one eyebrow and a quick glance between the prince and Fulanniyah, and his doubts were conveyed as well.

Instead, he nodded and smiled at his companion’s assessments, agreeing and keeping silent. And continuing to observe the play.

[The Prism Fleet]

“Lin!” Lain exclaimed. The young man's face brightened into a wide smile as the princess just suddenly appeared before him, out of the sea of people milling about the orchard. He never would have expected someone as striking as her to be so good at blending in when she wanted to, especially considering that she was the focal point for the whole event. “I missed you! You look... I mean, I expected...” The young man fumbled for a bit, trying to find the right words to compliment her appearance. He was glad to see her healthy; she looked much better in royal regalia than a hospital gown.

A slight twitch of his arms betrayed him. He wanted to give her a hug. It'd been too long since he'd last been in her company. When she adopted a more formal posture, he hesitated. 'Of course,' he thought to himself. 'She's a princess here. Gotta act accordingly...' He quickly adopted the officious and serious air of someone who'd never held a position of any importance, but had seen people who had on television. “Ahem...” He opened his mouth to speak, to say something important and diplomatic... but nothing sprang to Lain's mind. It really just wasn't a world he was familiar with. Fortunately, his chaperone was quick to terminate the pregnant pause before it became awkward.

“Our most sincere thank, Princess,” Lieutenant Commander Riez said. With a confident smile on her face, the tall segonune brushed her white hair back over her shoulder and dipped into a low and respectful bow. “It is our great honor to be graced with your radiant presence, and may this passing of seasons give way to many more, each more fruitful than the last. And now, with the pleasantries over and done with, I'll simply say that it's a pleasure to see you again Princess, and I'll be taking my leave to let you two talk, hm?” Vìe added with a knowing smile. She had, of course, been present when Nailin and Lain had first been formally introduced, back aboard the Prism. She knew they had a lot to catch up on.

Not that they'd had the time. It was just then that Nailin had been accosted by a rather pushy dignitary from some place Vìe didn't recognize, though she certainly detected the scent of alcohol on his breath, even from a distance; the young princess, spooked, had exercised her rather peculiar skills and once again disappeared into the crowd.

“Oh dear,” Vìe scratched her temple. There was one at every party, she supposed. “Welp!” she clapped Lain on the shoulder, and then gave the young man an encouraging shove. “You'd best go find her then!”

---

“Nailin?” Lain said softly, as he tapped Nailin upon the shoulder. It hadn't been hard to find her; after all, she hadn't gone far, and the young fox needed only follow his nose. He couldn't quite place the scent of whatever perfume she must've been wearing, but it was quite distinct amongst the fragrant peachy aromas. “There you are. I'm glad I caught you,” The young man said. “I wanted to tell you before, but uhm... well, you know, we got interrupted. Anyways, I just wanted to say that you look very pretty tonight.”

[The Boundless Legion]

Taken aback slightly by the Duke's phrasing and indication, the Captain followed his gaze. After a moment it dawned on him what the Duke was asking. If his escorts knew, they said nothing, or exchanged a nervous glance at each other with surreptitious movement.

"I...the Legion tends to work best if its wings arent bound, Your Grace. It's in the name," replied the Captain, neutrally, to allow some breathing room. Marriages of political convenience were waaay out of what they were prepared to be involved in on Roania.

At the same time, you don't just tell the Imperial Consort "no" and walk away. Time to talk details...

[The Emerald Dragon]

After that near-miss with the two children, Aata decided to go away from that area; lest guards be called. He was still a child himself, partially, although he was considered an adult in the Emerald Dragon. He saw a young man, perhaps even younger than himself give Princess Nailin a compliment and he smiled slightly at that. His spiked hair seemed out of place at the party, along with his fingerless leather gloves, and black shirt. Although it was an expensive shirt, and formal by Emeralderic standards. He didn't care much for alcohol, which was the most puzzling part about being sent here...

[Roania]

The Boundless Legion

Selevar's eyes widened, then narrowed. He was unused to having his requests or suggestions be refused, especially when they seemed as eminently reasonable as his current one did to him. "I see." His voice lowered for a moment, and he spoke almost to himself. "I wonder..." The Grand Duke stroked his chin for a brief moment, studying the good Captain and his aides. All three of them now entered his calculations. "Such a shame. Her dowry could be very useful to men in your occupation. Payroll for a good five, maybe six years. And of course a minor title of nobility for when you retire... you needn't stay with her, it would be enough merely to have her contracted, or perhaps she would accompany you?" The Grand Duke dismissed it with a shake of his head. "No, I suppose buying your interest in her is no more acceptable than some no-name lout taking her hand. Wanting more is not incompatible with wanting her happiness." He stroked his chin one more time, his eyes drifting over the three men. "Leave it to the side for a moment. You've not even been introduced to her, after all."

The Emerald Dragon

The kids were not so easily eluded as all that. They were easily bored by all the pomp and circumstance, and someone trying to hide from them was enough motivation to follow. The thought of calling the guards had not, in fact, occurred to them. There was certainly curiosity in their actions, and the complicated thoughts running through Aata's brain found a decidedly simpler echo in the heads of Prince Tonen and Cheruv Rihyl, both of whom latched onto his arms. "We caught you!" They said in almost-unison.

Kytalan, Western European Republic

Malhim's eyes widened, but the prospect of quick profit occurred to him. He smiled slightly. "Well... my salary is not... large." He said, thoughtfully. Also, lying through his teeth. "This lowly servant could perhaps see his way to arranging an interview, but I would have to ask for a minor consideration. After all, you would be asking me to take a great risk..." He considered. "Say, one million universal standard dollars, payable... well, now would be best." He coughed. "After all, receiving an interview with a member of the Lady of Ten Thousand Years' own family is not for everyone. Surely a man of your resources could easily provide this sum?"

The Prism Fleet

NaiLin smiled and took his hands now that they were somewhat more alone, and somewhat more private. She didn't kiss him, but it would be obvious to anyone with eyes that she longed to do so. "I feel pretty." She murmured in response, her plump lips breaking into a smile. "It feels so good." She giggled and leaned in, almost to kiss him, but then thought better of it. Instead, she squeezed his hands and smiled. "I'm glad you came. I was worried... oh, I don't know why I was worried. It's been so strange since I came back. Everything felt so simple when I was on the ship with you, that I allowed myself to think it would still be simple when I got here. My father's furious, my mother is absolutely delighted... my siblings... I don't think Tonen cares, and Damalin... well, he's the crown prince now."

NaiLin smiled slightly. "It's a bit of a relief, I suppose, but everyone has so many questions and answers and demands and whatnot... and I'm just me." She did lean in and kiss him gently on the cheek. "And you see me as just me." She lowered her voice. "But part of me... oh, Lain..." She turned red, a soft sigh leaving her, her elegant shoulders shrugging. "I wish I wasn't a princess. I wish I was just a just a girl." This got a little giggle. "Just your girl, maybe. But there's so much they want me to do and so much pressure they put on me. And father..." She sighed. "He finally accepted it, and that terrifies me, because... well, it's obvious. And I don't know what he's thinking of doing with me now." Her eyes conveyed more than she intended. She was worried about what Selevar was thinking of doing to him.

Dread Lady Nathicana, Scolopendra, Zero-One

Damalin's eyes fluttered for a moment in confusion. He was hardly prepared to speak about himself, and for a moment he lost his usual confidence. Just a moment, and then the charms of his race reasserted themselves and he smiled beatifically. "Truly, there isn't much to tell about this lowly person. I have the honor of serving the Lady of Ten Thousand Years as a cadet in the Fifth Banner Legion." A routine intelligence check would reveal that was Selevar's old legion before he'd joined the guards. "My tutor is the Academician Kouran." He considered. More seemed necessary, but he was at a loss for words. Barbarians were hardly supposed to know or care about such details, surely. For a moment, he became focused on a point to the left of Mpolla's head. "Finally, and least of all, I am the potential bearer of the Imperial Diadem, assuming my ancestors and the Light find me worthy of such a role, which I can hardly dare to expect."

Sunset

"Please, don't call me that." Ailiese shuddered dramatically. "'Your Majesty' sounds so much more formal than even what my subjects normally call me. I would invite you to call me by name, as I understand some western monarchs are in the habit of doing, but I'm afraid even the suggestion would cause my husband to suffer a severe heart attack." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Rimeil has a vaunted opinion of my time; or perhaps he fears that I would reverse some of his decisions if more people came to met with me. Or both. He's a good servant," She spoke in a light, unaffected tone, "but far too eager to spare me the pain of ruling." She grinned and lowered her voice, speaking conspiratorially. "Sometimes I wonder if that's why I keep him around. Light knows more than one of my ancestors has gone mad from over work."

The illustrious Empress of the galaxy (in Roanian iconography, at least), leaned forward and rested her head in her hand, a smile on her lips. "I would have told him I would be happy to meet with you. I'm eager to learn how Sunset is doing. I have fond memories of my time in Toconao, playing at escaping from the University. How is the terraforming going? I get reports from my Viceroy, but they're always so dreadfully dull that sometimes I think she doesn't know any more what's going on there than I do."

Dread Lady Nathicana

Naiya was hardly to be left alone. Rimeil was moving in her direction, gladhanding and backslapping everyone he came across. Scoring a meeting with the Imperatrice would be a coup in his credit with the Empress, he had no doubt, but no person was so unimportant he couldn't afford a moment's word.

[Zero-One]

Damalin/Ipolla/Mancuso

Doctor al-Fulaniyya listened, politely, but seemed to lose her deeper interest, glancing at a few men nearby. "All true, certainly, but I was hoping to get to know Your Highness better as a person. Certainly the honorable Academician Kouran has explained how we are not merely our tasks and positions and our potential futures, unless of course we choose to define ourselves that way? I mean no insult to the good name of the Fifth Banner Legion or the glory of the Imperial Diadem, but--if I may be perhaps too honest--we've all met people who are their jobs, so to speak, and aren't they just rather... dull?"

She glanced over at Ipolla for a moment, then back to Damalin. She winked ever so slightly, grinning from behind full lips. "The sorts who could talk the paint off of walls, rather than, say, the skin off of peaches. Certainly there is more to Your Highness than a rank, a teacher, and a future title, all of which he holds with estimable grace and humility?"

[Scolopendra]

Roania [Crown Prince]/Zero-One/Nathicana [Mancuso]

Ipolla frowned at her 'aide' and her suggestion of dullness. For a moment she was wondering what her game was, what with there being no possible real interest what with Mancuso standing right there, but then she remembered that the good doctor tended to see and do things slightly sideways from the norm. Just as Mballa had been using the situation to get information, 'Fulanah' was engineering the situation to the same effect.

That it'd also probably amuse the doctor's legendarily low sense of humor was an added bonus, probably. Still. The kid's, what, fifteen? Sixteen? Not only was there no challenge involved, there was something more than a little explicably greasy about the whole thing.

Of course, with the cover story of an 'aide' came the necessity of keeping up that story, which meant that Ipolla could yank her compatriot's chain a little. "The Crown Prince may share with us what he chooses to, Doctor," she said mock-sternly, which from the Iron Dame seemed most certainly stern indeed, "though I appreciate to a certain degree the curiosity. Learning about each other as individuals will smooth future dealings, especially if the ancestors and the Light see fit to grant him his potential station. The example of the former Imperatrice and the current Lady of Ten Thousand Years comes to mind."

It wasn't so much a good cop, bad cop act as a sexy cop, business cop act. Ipolla just hoped that her aide wouldn't get themselves into some sort of an incident by overplaying her hand.

[Oyada]

Peach whiskey. It was... not good, being honest. Even Captain (Retired) 'Stumpy Will' Courror, with his seven remaining tastebuds and exceptionally low sense of sophistication when it came to food and drink, could tell that. He'd sampled the delights of the cosmos in The Pleasure Dome of Rudan, of course - Kublai Khan would not have been dismayed by that hallowed place, whence his mind still lingered wistfully on occasional whims - but all that had given him was an almost savantesque ability to judge the age of wine by smell and a curious addiction to sherbet lemons. In no way had it made Courror a sophisticate; a lifetime spent munching on the Imperial Army's finest excuses for food was not easily undone. Yet even he, savage and unlettered in the language of cuisine as he might be to many, could tell you that peach whiskey wasn't a good idea. Courror eyed the glass with distaste. It tasted worse than hydraulic fluid - and he would know. On the other hand, it would probably make a pretty good scented lamp fuel, providing you wanted your building to smell of synthesised peach-resembling nonsense and enough alcohol to knock out a small gnat. Roanian drink wasn't of exactly Olympian potency, on the whole.

He shuffled awkwardly among the rows of peach trees, resting his hand on the undulating, waxen smoothness of a peach trunk, and watched the party go by. Truth be told, he wasn't really sure what to do, now he was here, save acting as unofficial security; as Naiya had pointed out, the Roanians had specified that no weapons were to be carried. They hadn't said anything about what would happen when one simply was a walking bulldozer, though he knew they didn't much care for prostheses of his kind. Still, he was there as the sort-of-friend-cum-servant of the Imperatrice, or so he guessed. He wasn't actually very sure, but he didn't feel like questioning it too thoroughly. No point, really, he knew.

Courror's eyes tracked his mistress - a term he enjoyed using purely to give people entirely the wrong idea - as she wheeled her offspring around the blooming peach groves. She had changed, it was true, as a result of the twin children whom she paraded before her, as juvenile rulers had always been paraded - somehow, despite faces and bodies near-indistinguishable from their humbler peers, evidently elevated in the estimation of all those around them. But she was still the proud, yet kindly, women who had saved him from himself. It seemed inconceivable, now, that they had met as they truly had - furtively, unwillingly, unexpectedly, and with no reason for anything but mutual hostility. Yet for him, at least, that hostility had swiftly been supplanted by something that might not be love, but was certainly devotion and affection beyond that of a mere employee; she had, in many respects, given him back the life he'd always enjoyed, and had lost, somewhere, in his journey from his home.

It had been a long trip, he thought quietly, chucking the remainder of the whiskey to one side (where it hit a plant; he felt sure that said plant was unlikely to last the night) and stuffing the empty glass into a convenient tangle of branches. And, really, he was a forced emigrant. He didn't want to leave, but there was no ignoring the stares, the muttered remarks, the outright hostility that his battered, cobbled-together body had garnered at home. The skulking whisperers who cursed, in hushed tones, his unnaturalness; they were the reason he hadn't had a home. The destructive forces of the galaxy had nothing on those of his own people. Yet, in accordance with the theme Naiya had set - and he had to admit, even if quietly and with some embarrassment, that she looked good in that white creation that flowed lightly over her trim form - he had donned some slightly more traditional garb than his usual kit. Pressed and pleated as sharp as razors they might be, but his trousers - heyahma - were certainly not the normal fare; flared widely, they covered neatly a pair of sandals in which he felt, for some reason, acutely uncomfortable, since they lacked the steel caps, steel soles, and tight lacing of those he had worn for most of his adult life. The simple tunic enfolding his upper half, tied in place with a dark blue obi that matched perfectly the equally dark blue of the rest of his garments, was stiflingly warm despite leaving his of his (partly metallic) chest exposed with its deep V-neck. Still, at least the sleeves had turned up well, he reflected; he hadn't worn his fencing kit in many years, and evidently the surgeons who had replaced his arms had made them a little shorter than those the gods had seen fit to give him. Still, it hadn't been a bad trade. He scraped a little bark from the tree nearest him, took his attention from Naiya for a moment, and smiled and he plucked a large and succulent peach from its bough.

Not a bad line of work, all things considered.

A little way above, atop an outcrop of weathered rock and surrounded by short, dense groves of some strange type of alien tree, a red-roofed pagoda's white-papered walls beckoned, as did the gentle scent of something tasty that swept languidly over the peach garden. Finishing the peach and discreetly brushing away the juice he had let run down his chin, he made another happy check upon Naiya and her offspring, and went wandering up the winding, boarded path that led to the pagoda. For once, it seemed, he could sort-of-relax. She had another contact at the party, and Dominion security, ever efficient (well, mostly) were observing the whole thing, ever alert for the call to action.

Which meant, Courror decided, that he could swipe another peach, and see what was on the menu.

[The Emerald Dragon]

The Boundless Legion

Selevar's eyes widened, then narrowed. He was unused to having his requests or suggestions be refused, especially when they seemed as eminently reasonable as his current one did to him. "I see." His voice lowered for a moment, and he spoke almost to himself. "I wonder..." The Grand Duke stroked his chin for a brief moment, studying the good Captain and his aides. All three of them now entered his calculations. "Such a shame. Her dowry could be very useful to men in your occupation. Payroll for a good five, maybe six years. And of course a minor title of nobility for when you retire... you needn't stay with her, it would be enough merely to have her contracted, or perhaps she would accompany you?" The Grand Duke dismissed it with a shake of his head. "No, I suppose buying your interest in her is no more acceptable than some no-name lout taking her hand. Wanting more is not incompatible with wanting her happiness." He stroked his chin one more time, his eyes drifting over the three men. "Leave it to the side for a moment. You've not even been introduced to her, after all."

The Emerald Dragon

The kids were not so easily eluded as all that. They were easily bored by all the pomp and circumstance, and someone trying to hide from them was enough motivation to follow. The thought of calling the guards had not, in fact, occurred to them. There was certainly curiosity in their actions, and the complicated thoughts running through Aata's brain found a decidedly simpler echo in the heads of Prince Tonen and Cheruv Rihyl, both of whom latched onto his arms. "We caught you!" They said in almost-unison.

Kytalan, Western European Republic

Malhim's eyes widened, but the prospect of quick profit occurred to him. He smiled slightly. "Well... my salary is not... large." He said, thoughtfully. Also, lying through his teeth. "This lowly servant could perhaps see his way to arranging an interview, but I would have to ask for a minor consideration. After all, you would be asking me to take a great risk..." He considered. "Say, one million universal standard dollars, payable... well, now would be best." He coughed. "After all, receiving an interview with a member of the Lady of Ten Thousand Years' own family is not for everyone. Surely a man of your resources could easily provide this sum?"

The Prism Fleet

NaiLin smiled and took his hands now that they were somewhat more alone, and somewhat more private. She didn't kiss him, but it would be obvious to anyone with eyes that she longed to do so. "I feel pretty." She murmured in response, her plump lips breaking into a smile. "It feels so good." She giggled and leaned in, almost to kiss him, but then thought better of it. Instead, she squeezed his hands and smiled. "I'm glad you came. I was worried... oh, I don't know why I was worried. It's been so strange since I came back. Everything felt so simple when I was on the ship with you, that I allowed myself to think it would still be simple when I got here. My father's furious, my mother is absolutely delighted... my siblings... I don't think Tonen cares, and Damalin... well, he's the crown prince now."

NaiLin smiled slightly. "It's a bit of a relief, I suppose, but everyone has so many questions and answers and demands and whatnot... and I'm just me." She did lean in and kiss him gently on the cheek. "And you see me as just me." She lowered her voice. "But part of me... oh, Lain..." She turned red, a soft sigh leaving her, her elegant shoulders shrugging. "I wish I wasn't a princess. I wish I was just a just a girl." This got a little giggle. "Just your girl, maybe. But there's so much they want me to do and so much pressure they put on me. And father..." She sighed. "He finally accepted it, and that terrifies me, because... well, it's obvious. And I don't know what he's thinking of doing with me now." Her eyes conveyed more than she intended. She was worried about what Selevar was thinking of doing to him.

Dread Lady Nathicana, Scolopendra, Zero-One

Damalin's eyes fluttered for a moment in confusion. He was hardly prepared to speak about himself, and for a moment he lost his usual confidence. Just a moment, and then the charms of his race reasserted themselves and he smiled beatifically. "Truly, there isn't much to tell about this lowly person. I have the honor of serving the Lady of Ten Thousand Years as a cadet in the Fifth Banner Legion." A routine intelligence check would reveal that was Selevar's old legion before he'd joined the guards. "My tutor is the Academician Kouran." He considered. More seemed necessary, but he was at a loss for words. Barbarians were hardly supposed to know or care about such details, surely. For a moment, he became focused on a point to the left of Mpolla's head. "Finally, and least of all, I am the potential bearer of the Imperial Diadem, assuming my ancestors and the Light find me worthy of such a role, which I can hardly dare to expect."

Sunset

"Please, don't call me that." Ailiese shuddered dramatically. "'Your Majesty' sounds so much more formal than even what my subjects normally call me. I would invite you to call me by name, as I understand some western monarchs are in the habit of doing, but I'm afraid even the suggestion would cause my husband to suffer a severe heart attack." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Rimeil has a vaunted opinion of my time; or perhaps he fears that I would reverse some of his decisions if more people came to met with me. Or both. He's a good servant," She spoke in a light, unaffected tone, "but far too eager to spare me the pain of ruling." She grinned and lowered her voice, speaking conspiratorially. "Sometimes I wonder if that's why I keep him around. Light knows more than one of my ancestors has gone mad from over work."

The illustrious Empress of the galaxy (in Roanian iconography, at least), leaned forward and rested her head in her hand, a smile on her lips. "I would have told him I would be happy to meet with you. I'm eager to learn how Sunset is doing. I have fond memories of my time in Toconao, playing at escaping from the University. How is the terraforming going? I get reports from my Viceroy, but they're always so dreadfully dull that sometimes I think she doesn't know any more what's going on there than I do."

Dread Lady Nathicana

Naiya was hardly to be left alone. Rimeil was moving in her direction, gladhanding and backslapping everyone he came across. Scoring a meeting with the Imperatrice would be a coup in his credit with the Empress, he had no doubt, but no person was so unimportant he couldn't afford a moment's word.

Roania

Tayzain... iuasa Aata said to himself in Emeralderic, something roughly translated to as 'Oh... my... God" in English as the kids caught his arms. He was relieved these kids weren't female, or thought he was cute. It was slightly nervewracking though; one slip-up dealing with getting these kids away from him, and he'd find himself in much... less comfortable surroundings. He could taste blood in the back of his mouth, probably from how nervous he was, and the amount of times he'd blushed during the occasion. He was hoping some guard would come over and tell them not to disturb the guests or something, at least... he hoped. Looking up at the clouds, momentarily, Aata felt a feeling of strangeness in his throat. He quickly knew what it was.

He slipped out of their hands, gently away from the kids before running a short distance and climbing up a tree, there he began to choke on the blood, that he'd foolishly swallowed.