A Summer Rite (Open Party RP)

[Tiburon]

Roania (NaiLin)

As Lain, Selevar, and Captain Marcus began their dinner – to use an absolutely godawful analogy, appearing to begin the cooling phase of the annealing process of their strange relationship with each other – Signy caught up to NaiLin. "Ah, Princess, if it's all right with you, could we perhaps catch a drink? I... I'm a tad curious, if you don't mind, about something I had seen in the Morning-Times several months ago. It mentioned simply that due to an accident, Dam'Lin became the new crown prince, and that you were now to be referred to as the Princess NaiLin. Did something happen, are you feeling okay? Or, was it just the change they meant? Ah, i-if you don't mind my asking, was that taken care of domestically, or...?"

She'd never have the bravado to ask the questions that were really on her mind. How in the everloving hell did you convince them to accept it? Or the technology involved? And that too, for a Crown Prince of all people...? But asking those questions probably sufficed. And hopefully didn't break the bounds of propriety. Not too much, anyway.


Roania (KouRan)

Vikesh Anders guffawed heartily at KouRan's suggestion and slapped him mildly on the back. "Ha, well met, well met! In fact, I think I can request just the thing, a tabletop particle accelerator encased in genuine Makrana white marble and processed in the traditional Agra fashion; inlaid with jasper from Punjab and Idar-Oberstein, and jade and turquoise from Witwatersrand-Goers. Very Akashan, and hopefully to The Lady of Ten Thousand Years' liking."

Pouring himself a very generous serving of the peach liqueur on offer, he continued, "Now, is there something you yourself might enjoy as an offering from us? Traditional artwork or housewares, or perhaps a similarly themed blend of new thoughts and traditional aesthetics? I daresay we'd be quite remiss if we didn't express as best we could our gratitude towards your magnanimous offer!" A bombastic man, perhaps, but a generous one; and despite himself even Vikesh could have his moments, rising to the amount of tact otherwise quite common to his countrymen.

[Roania]

Tiburon (NaiLin)

NaiLin's pale skin turned red from her cheeks down to the rise of her cleavage, and she modestly directed her eyes to the ground. "I had gone to visit a great project our ally had made, as a representative of my mother. While we were touring the great ship Prism, there was an accident in the cargo yard. My body was broken and burnt, but my vital spark survived." Her voice grew softer, and she studied a fallen peach melancholically. "I was more fortunate than others. Lain risked his life to save mine, though I must have seemed quite close to death. However, it was not my fate to join the ancestors on that day. Instead, they bestowed a blessing upon me. Upon us. My Chen recovered, and..."

The Princess sighed and brushed a long, perfect strand of hair back behind a perfectly pointed ear. "Since I had known there was a difference between men and women, I had felt awkward as a male. It was how I was born, but... I had never desired the role our society thrusts upon males. I yearned for... for something different. As I recovered, my Chen changed me. I awoke as I am now." A delicate tear formed at the corner of NaiLin's eye. "And I am... happy."

The Prism Fleet, the Boundless Legion

Selevar's eye twitched. "You dare to tell me that one of my sons would wish to be a... a woman?" His voice raised, than lowered into a quiet hiss as he barked a few words in High Roanian, mostly violent oaths. "I should have you thrown from the cliff and onto the rocks below for that!" The Roanian was furious, obviously. "No real man would...! You must have had something to do with it! I will not hear otherwise! I will not!" The Grand Duke shuddered and took a deep drink of his liquor, which seemed to calm him down somewhat.

"Enough. I will hear no more of such talk." Selevar dismissed it from his mind with a visible effort, and waved his hand. "Instead, we will talk price. What must I pay you to make you go away and refuse my daughter contacting you? What sum? Name a number, however fantastical, and it shall be yours. There are other women, and you may win them fairly. But my daughter shall not be rewarded by being given what she wants."

Tiburon

KouRan laughed his deep booming laugh and slapped his generous stomach. "Ho ho! One of those particle accelerators would prove quite handy for my facility staff. Personally, I have everything a man could need, and my wife threatens to throw me out of the house if I bring home more curiosities."

Sunset, Andacantra

"I think I've had quite en... oh dear, is that my husband going off at someone?" Ailiese sighed and shook her head. "He means well, he does. He's just so... traditional sometimes." She thrust all thoughts and worries from her mind, and beamed. "A drink would be lovely! I am glad you're enjoying yourself, Katenia."

[Sunset]

Andacantra / Roania...

"No, no thank you!" Demi replied. "I'm a bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol; Another pair and I'll be comparing floor patterns with the pink elephants!"

It was, instead, time for some food to keep things from going sour. There were plenty of trays with various pastries and confections going around and she chose a small plate that seemed to have a deliciously thick looking cake or even bread on it. A careful bit and a dab of the napkin; It was lighter than it looked with a lemon glaze and of course slices of peach arranged in a spiral blossom pattern.

"So," she asked before taking another bite, "If you could choose any one place, where would your next destination be?"

This was directed at Katenia, though Demi kept a sideways glance on Ailiese.

"If it was my choice, of all the places in the galaxy, I'd choose..." She went on to describe a nation that was filled with fuzzy people of all types and ruled with the gentlest of iron hands by a military government and their equally fuzzy female commander in chief.

[The Prism Fleet]

Lain sat there and listened silently as Selevar spewed his hateful drivel, fists clenched, teeth gritted, eyes averted; he knew that if he found himself matching the Grand Duke's gaze, he would not be able to hold himself back from going absolutely off at the old man.

“Grand Duke, sir,” Lain spoke slowly and deliberately, and made no attempt to hide the fact that he had to force the words out through a clenched jaw. “You aren't listening to me. I know for a fact that NaiLin is happy to be a girl. I know this, because she told me so herself. She would probably tell you too, if she weren't absolutely goddamned terrified of you.” He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself; that he had to do so so often when talking to Selevar was probably quite telling of what he thought of the man. “No real man would ever want to be a woman? Fine. But NaiLin was never a real man! Don't you get it?!” It was too late. Lain couldn't keep his temper in check. He stood up and slammed his palms down on the table, rattling the dishes. “Your daughter is happy with who she is for the first time in her entire goddamned life, and all you want to do is punish her for it! Don't you care?! Don't you love her?!” He yelled, glowering at the Roanian regent before him. “Or are your fucking 'plans' more important than her happiness?”

“Oh, and for the record,” he added, his face twisted into a spiteful snarl. “Just because I'm poor doesn't mean you can buy me off, and I'm offended you even tried. You disgust me.”

[The Boundless Legion]

Maybe that could have been a little less coarse, thought Marcus once Lain went off on him. Granted it was long and coming for Selevar, but this might be cause for an incident.
But damned if he didn't like this kid's guts. The truth was out, now Marcus felt it his duty to make sure Lain's admirable guts weren't spilled by the guard. Or the Grand Duke himself.

"I think...the good Duke's personal feelings are his own, Lain, and he needs to come to terms with them in his own time."

He stood, now, and took a place beside Lain. "But the kid's got a point. This isn't so black and white an issue...in fact, I myself submit that, perhaps, some battles don't need to be fought in order to win them.

"Is not discretion the better part of valor, Your Grace?"

[Roania]

Selevar's expression was worth a thousand words. His eyes widened, and then they narrowed, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. No one, ever had spoken to him in such a fashion. "You dare talk to me in such a fashion? Do you know who I am? Do you know what I could have done to you?" Selevar raised his hand. "GUARDS! TAKE THIS..."

"Oh, look at the time!" Ailiese came running up to stand next to her husband. "It's gotten much later than I expected it to. You young people should head off to bed. Off with you, now." She gestured to the gate for Marcus and Lain to depart as quickly as possible. "Thank you for coming! I hope we'll all see each other again, Lain, my daughter's told me so much about you, only not right now, please, thank you..."

Selevar had had enough. "STAY OUT OF THIS, WOMAN. I have had enough of your interference!" The sound of flesh on flesh rang out across the party, and Alessa was sent reeling to the ground, as Selevar dropped his hand, staring in shock.

The guards were at her side in a heartbeat, and Nesar was amongst them. "I think, young man, you should be on your way." The man murmured, pushing him away and not giving Lain any opportunity to intervene as he pushed the fox-boy to the exit.

"Right! Party's over!" Rimeil whistled twice. "Thank you all for coming, the exit is that way, please leave..." It was all he could do at the moment. His eyes were absolutely blank as for once in his life he had no control over the situation; still, he had the most power of anyone at present. "Guards, everyone was leaving."

Damalin, NaiLin and Tonen seemed absolutely in shock.

[The Prism Fleet]

Scarlet and Courror

Vìe's ear twitched. Her Diplomat senses were tingling. Decisive action was going to be required in the next few moments, and the sound of rising, angry, familiar voices told her exactly where she'd need to direct it. Despite the happily toasted expression on her face, she'd kept one eye and one ear on Lain the entire time, from across the party grounds. He was her charge, afterall; the only reason she was even here was to look after NaiLin's honored guest.

“Pardon me,” She interrupted Courror's question, and leaned forward to shove her drinks into the free hands of both of her new friends. “Could you hold these for me?” She said, still blithely smiling away. “Something's come up that I need to attend to. I'll be right back.” And so, she whirled around on her heels and began to march towards the banquet table at a brisk, but comfortably professional pace.

It was only when Selevar's voice peaked at a volume that would frighten children and bruise fruit that she broke into a dead sprint.

---

The Grand Duke

It was amazing. If Lain's brain had been working properly, he would have recognized that he could not remember a time when he had ever been so angry, so angry that he would have scarcely been able to believe it. Unfortunately, that very same anger had made him absolutely blind with livid rage. This man, Selevar, was such a monster that he wasn't just content to terrify his daughter into dutiful submission; he actually beat his wife, right there, in front of the whole party! It was so astonishingly wrong that all Lain could do was stand there, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“You... you...” he murmured, completely at a loss to express how he felt. It was only when Nesar tried to push him aside that he suddenly snapped back to his senses. With a spike of adrenaline running wild through his bloodstream, Lain shoved Nesar away and then mounted the table, fists clenched and teeth bared, readily to hurl himself screaming into Selevar and give the old man the beating he deserved!

There wasn't a single doubt that he would have, either, had Lain not been violently tackled aside by none other than his chaperone, Vìe Riez, herself! The two of them sailed a good two meters before slamming into the ground and rolling away, a twisted mass of arms and claws, fur and tails! At the end of it, though, it was the Segonune who emerged the victor. She stood up, twisted Lain's arms behind his back with his wrists locked in an iron grip, and hauled the young man to his feet.

“Ahem, pardon me,” She said, and turned both herself and Lain towards Selevar and the others. She still wore her ever-present smile, despite the definite cracks that were starting to appear in her facade. “Grand Duke Selevar, Madame Empress of Ten Thousand Years. I'm afraid it is time for us to leave.”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Lain screamed. He pulled against Vìe with all of his strength, but with the leverage she had over him all he could accomplish was scraping his feet uselessly against the dirt. It didn't stop him from trying; reason and clarity had completely checked out, and the young fox was no more than a helpless passenger in the uncontrollable hate-machine that was his body. “Selfish, ungrateful, wife beating bastard! You fucking-- I'm gonna-- I-I'll fucking PUNCH your SHIT!”

“Right,” Vìe said calmly. She yanked Lain's wrists upwards, causing the young man to cry out in pain and drop to one knee as his arms twisted beyond the normal limitations of his shoulders, though Vìe always kept her gaze and attention on their hosts. “I'm truly, sincerely sorry for the behavior of my ward. However, your decorum has been appalling and your hospitality completely atrocious. I'll be submitting a recommendation that the Diplomatic Corps conduct a full review of the value of our embassy on Rudan Prime. Thank you for the horrible party. The drinks were delicious. Don't bother inviting us back. Good night!”

And so, with a smile that had swapped it's toasted innocence for sarcastic condescension, Vìe turned and, without another glance or word, marched towards the gates, quite literally dragging Lain behind herself.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

In A Nearby Shuttle

Mballa, well away from all the screaming and cursing and slapping that would’ve only pushed her back to redline were she there to experience it--though the barely audible sounds of shouting did subconsciously raise her hackles--marched all the way up to the door of the Imperatrice’s diplomatic shuttle. For a moment that for anyone else might seem awkward she stood there, staring at the door while the gears turned in her head, one wall facing another. Then, with no better recourse, she stepped forward reached out and knocked a drum cadence--rap-rap-a-rap-rap--before stepping back and folding herself into parade rest.

Naiya answered the knock herself, having changed temporarily into something a bit less dressy while getting the little ones fed and settled in for a much-needed nap. Pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear, she smiled and stepped back with an inviting gesture. “It’s good to see you, Mballa. Please, come in. Can I get you anything to drink?”

The Supreme Emperor appeared to process not only the lack of title but also the lack of surname for a moment, and then concluded this analysis with an unbidden smile. “Likewise, Naiya.” As she stepped aboard, her left hand pulled the corner of her uniform’s plastron out from its clasp under her right shoulderboard, causing the front to fold over in what was colloquially known as the duty flap. She was now officially out of uniform. “Anything will do, so long as it’s neither peach nor alcoholic. Thank you.” Now that she was inside, she looked around and covered her uncertainty of action with her usual rigidity.

“Absolutely,” Naiya replied easily, leading the way down the short corridor to the area that had been repurposed to a passable sitting room of sorts. It wasn’t nearly so ostentatious as the ship that vonKarma had given her mother, but it was comfortable and provided what it was supposed to. Several chairs that could accommodate varied frames and weights, and additionally non-human body parts, were set around the area, with either a low table in front, or a side table close to hand, depending on their position. The young woman walked over to the small fridge that was set back against one wall, and pulled out two bottles of Dominion creme sodas, in a refreshing blue raspberry flavor.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” she said over her shoulder, shutting the door, then returning to her guest. She offered one of the bottles, waiting for Mballa to choose a seat before taking one herself, at a position opposite where they could more easily converse. “I gather things hadn’t noticeably improved. At least we can leave all that outside for now. Surely the walls are thick enough to keep out even the loudest shrieks from here.”

At the word ‘comfortable,’ the older woman smirked slightly and sat down in the nearest chair, it being the nearest solution and therefore, all else being equal, the best for fulfilling the imperative. Accepting the bottle with a nod, she inspected the short, stout metal bottle cap before cupping the slightly sharp sides with her horny palm and quickly twisting the top off. “‘Improved?’” She shook her head. “There’s truth in the old saying that we can’t help those who won’t help themselves.” The word ‘shrieks’ did make her almost cringe, more like a visible increase in tension. “That may be a good thing. I can’t swear to it, but there probably was some more shrieking going on just before I knocked.” She tried to play it off lackadaisically.

Shaking her head, Naiya curled up comfortably in her own chair, likewise twisting the cap off her drink, and sipping quietly. “I wish we could just fix everything sometimes. But this … this is one of those things that can’t be patched with a contract or simple mediation, I‘m afraid. Family politics are the worst, I swear.”

“Tell me about it,” Mballa grumbled, taking a dutiful swig from the bubbly drink as though the motion could clear her mind. “Hopefully it can be ‘patched’ before someone gets turfed.” She looked at Naiya, remembered something about her host’s family, and grimaced. “Sorry.”

“Please, everyone more or less knows how things have been with my mother and her husband and I. And if not that, at least my mother. She’s never been one to let things pass quietly,unless some other reason pre-empted her temper,” Naiya replied dismissively, smiling over at the Supreme Emperor. “It’s past in any case. And not the reason you wanted to speak with me, unless I miss my guess.”

“True.” Ipolla looked away and frowned for a moment, brow furrowed in thought as she tapped the rim of her bottle on her lower lip. “Though it’s probably related. To be honest, I don’t know myself why I wanted to speak with you. To thank you for trying to help however you were--and I won’t pry, since I probably won’t get an answer--but there’s more. Maybe partially an explanation. What I saw out there among our esteemed”--the word dripped--”hosts reminded me of things that I’ve fought wars to forget. The shouting, the laying of hands, the papering over… the repetition.

“I do not like being reminded of these things, even if they made me what I am today. Yet that’s who I am. I am my rage, and my control over my rage. I need my pain to enrage me, and I need my pain to remind me why I control it.” The older woman frowned, not in self-judgment but in concern of whether she expressed herself correctly. It made her look older still. “Does that make sense?”

Naiya watched quietly as the older woman attempted to explain, not moving or saying a word through it. Out of respect, she also made no other less obvious efforts to ‘pry’, relying instead on what she’d been taught, and simply listening to what, and how things were said. “A calming hand was unhelpful in this case. Perhaps even potentially harmful. Would it offend you to suggest that in some respects, I understand to some degree on account of my mother? She has things she’s worked to forget as well, and to keep control on account of.”

“Offend?” Mballa smirked. “Naw. Your mom’s a solid broad, even if she’s a bit obnoxiously bull-headed. I should know. I’m one too.” She again paused for thought. “It’s what happens, at least in my case, when one happens to be the reason why two very traditional people get married despite having nothing but compatible genitalia in common. Especially when these very, very traditional and very God-fearing people learn that the daughter they love and hate in equal measure turns out to be a lesbian. I guess you either break or you fight.” She held out one hand, flexed it into and out of a fist; the motions highlighted the scars on her knuckles. “I’ve always fought. No surprise there, hm?”

“Your choice might be better than spending years trying to be someone you’re not, in order to please someone who will never accept,” Naiya offered, her smile turning wry. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a happy home life. It seems to be the core of a good many people’s problems, once you get down to it, for a number of reasons. Our inability to accept and love without the expectations and judgment seems to be one of those things our advancements just haven’t sorted out yet. Pity, given it’s one of the most important problems we could solve, if we had the easy fix.”

The older woman nodded sympathetically. “I know I don’t have a monopoly on sob stories or the hard knock life. That’s one of the reasons I don’t like talking about it. For whatever reason, though, I thought you deserved to know. It’s kind of the same reason why I gave that Crown Prince back there--poor bastard--a pep talk. Yes, we could ‘solve’ this problem but one doesn’t make steel by cooing nice words to iron and charcoal. ‘Pig-happiness,’ I think would be the term from Mill. Life would be easy, beautiful, and stagnant, and stagnant life is just prey--no, worse, a crop--waiting to be taken from its fat and happy life to feed the first something with a hungrier belly and colder steel in its blood that comes along.

“‘Sides, I’ve heard tell of love without expectations or judgments. Haven’t seen it yet, and my demands for evidence of an omni-everything sky daddy was just another call for the belt in my upbringing. Jokes on them, though. They’re dead, I’m alive, and I’m still the lezzy atheist they hated.” She shrugged. “Sorry. Seems to always come back to that.”

“Sit long enough by the river, and the bodies of your enemies will float by,” Naiya said softly, then took another sip of her soda before continuing. “That’s the bitch of it, really. We are who and what we are. Everything we’ve gone through up until now is a part of that. Change it, and we might change who we are. And if we’re satisfied with who we are, why change anything?

“It isn’t as though there’s a damn thing wrong with you,” the young woman stated gently but firmly. “The fact they couldn’t see it is their failing, not yours. You have good friends, people who love and care about you. You’re strong, successful, beautiful and talented. And you’ve made one hell of a Supreme Emperor. My apologies again for inadvertently damaging your calm. It’s just a talent I’ve had, no doubt carried over from my father’s side of things. The ability to suggest, not enforce. It seemed … appropriate at the time, all things considered.”

Ipolla raised one hand with her sincere smile, the rare one. “Oh, I’m fully aware there’s nothing really wrong with who and what I am, though I thank you for the compliments. I could return them easily enough. I could also probably say that what’s objectively true ain’t necessarily what’s subjectively felt, especially when you’ve been told certain things all through your childhood… though I gather the feeling,” she actually sounded sympathetically human as she leaned a little towards Naiya, “that you understand this from experience of your own. If it makes you feel better, my calm was already damaged. Quite a bit. It’s just… nature takes the lazy way out. I’ve fought for years to keep myself under control, and the idea of an easy way out is… too tempting to even try. It’s why I don’t drink very much.” Her smile lit up her face again. “Just keep doing what strikes you as appropriate, kid. You’ve got a good head on those shoulders, and you’ll be right far more often than you’re wrong.”

“I hope so,” Naiya said sincerely, with a touch more emphasis than truly required. “But then, that’s why we have good allies, and good friends, to help us keep our heads from becoming over-inflated and thus, unbalanced and headed in wrong directions, yes? Great power, great responsibility - the old saw holds a great deal of truth.”

“Friends. Yeah.” Mballa took a sip of her drink to give her time to compose her thoughts since playing cheap encephalon tricks struck her as inappropriate right now. “I guess Kraisee almost counts. Still, it’s not as though we hang out outside of the office. Friends and confidantes have just never been something I’ve had. My attitude is actually offputting. Can you believe it?”

“Shocking,” Naiya said with a straight face. Then she smiled and took another sip. “My mother tells me she used to be much the same in that regard. Devon always claimed that such friendships weakened her, changed her and made her too soft in some regards. Mama disagreed. It’s something you likely have to work out for yourself. Besides, you’ve got Auntie Shodey. I know she’s fond of you, even if she gives you hell. It’s how you know she cares.”

This last of course, accompanied by a mischievous little grin.

“Yeah, I’ve got Shoddy.” The nickname was pronounced just as one would expect. “I can’t get rid of the bitch.” She grinned from behind closed lips in spite of her word choice. “When I showed up to what was then my new office, she was lying on the couch reading a book. I asked nicely, then I tried to drag her out myself, and then we called in the Assault Armor. She’d somehow made herself literally impossible to move. So she hung out there even when someone--Nikunj, it was--burst into my office to tell me something extremely important and more than a little secure.

“We both looked at Shoddy; she turned a page in her book and said that it was okay, she wasn’t listening. So I took my steel wastepaper basket--you know, the kind that can survive close-range nuclear blasts--walked over and put it over her head.

“I recognize it didn’t accomplish anything, but it did make me feel a lot better.”

Naiya had been grinning through the story, knowing all too well how her adopted aunt operated. But at the ‘Pendran Pail treatment, she burst out in a full laugh, her hand going to her mouth reflexively to cover it. “She’s something, isn’t she? I’m reminded each time I see her, or hear another escapade that I am forever grateful she’s on our side. It’s still a source of wonder that she, of all people, is the one my mother has trusted the most, given her usual paranoia.”

Mballa shrugged. “I’d like to say that stranger things have happened, but I’m not sure they have. Maybe Shoddy proved that she can be trusted somehow, and was the first to do so.” She paused, then smiled and shook her head. “I was about to crack that I’m still waiting for said proof, but she’s not as bad as all that. You never heard that, by the way.”

“Heard what?” Naiya asked casually, smiling to herself. “She’s family. That’s good enough for me.”

“Eh, the term’s a bit depreciated with me, but that’s a personal problem.” Although the older woman smirked, it wasn’t wry. Then she took another sip of her drink, looking thoughtful for a few moments. “Though perhaps I have been going about things… less than the best way I could all this time. People, being social animals and such, do have to trust someone,” She peered at the bright blue liquid in the bottle.

“One might suggest you’ve been rather trusting here today,” Naiya suggested gently, idly swishing her bottle’s contents around in a slow circle. “I know it isn’t an easy thing, especially when it’s personal.”

“One might,” the Scolopendran replied. “And maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe.”

“So long as that trust isn’t betrayed, I would say it’s not a bad thing at all. And I have an honorary uncle who I would sorely disappoint were I to prove false,” Naiya said, her smile an attempt to lighten things just a little. “I dislike the idea of being a disappointment. Even if he weren’t capable of shot-putting the entire planet into the nearest black hole, or glassing the mainland down to the mantle.”

“So by myself I’m just not scary enough, hm?” Ipolla smiled. “I don’t know whether to take that as meaning there’s hope for me yet or that I should try harder.” She did detect the desire to lighten things, and she was by this point looking comfortable and quite probably happy. “Never fear, I think it’s been good for me to at least say a few words on the subject and I thank you for being willing to listen. You do realize, of course, that said willingness is mutual?” This took on the tone of a well-meaning teacher or aunt.

“To be fair, it’s hard to be scared of people you already like, save for Zio Timo’s ‘disappointed face’,” Naiya joked in return, then accepted the reassurance simply. “As for listening, and returning the favor, that’s what friends do.”

“Just putting it out there. Causality knows I wouldn’t want people I respect making some of the same choices… well, mistakes that I have.” She shrugged again with a quiet acceptance, various bits of her uniform glinting. “As the old lady in the room I’m obligated to try and pass off platitudes as homespun wisdom.”

“And as the new kid on the playground, I’m more than happy to accept that wisdom,” Naiya reassured her, smiling archly. “And you’re not ‘old’. So.”

“Don’t give me that look, young missy,” Mballa said with a close-lipped grin, “it may work in the Dominion but it’s not about to work on a free woman. And old? Back in my M.I. days when I was in a mood like this I’d go pick a fight with some local toughs. Now I’m having something more like a tea party. If that’s not the tyranny of age, I don’t know what is--unless you happen to know a back alley where we can kick some ribs in?”

Naiya’s expression turned speculative. “Well … perhaps not on this particular planet, as we’ve got enough of a mess here currently. But there’s always Devras. Or Machiavelli,” she said trailing off thoughtfully.

Mballa grinned with just the slightest glint of teeth, although the implied threat certainly wasn’t aimed at her host. “No one back at the office is willing to be my sparring partner anymore, and Shoddy’s defense is predictably perfect. I’m therefore only half-joking.”

“What happens in the Dominion, stays in the Dominion,” Naiya said slyly, arching one brow in an expression all too like her mother. “Though I can’t guarantee your opponents. It can be a bit of hit or miss. What I can assure you is that not one whisper about it would ever crop up, unless you wished it to.”

“Just as long as they’ve got it coming or have signed up for it. I’m not too concerned about taking chances, no matter how much that displeases my security detail. They’d probably much prefer it if I asked you to throw down.”

“I made the mistake of accepting a challenge from Siri - Northrup-Grumman? Back at my coronation. I swear, I had bruises for a week,” the younger woman said, pulling her legs up under her cross-leggedly.

“C’mon,” the older woman said with a grin, “that’s how you know it was a good fight.”

“Oh, I know, but …” Naiya trailed off, smiling and shaking her head. There was a lot more to it, and she could cheat on several levels. She was never sure if it was truly ‘fair’ or not. Of course, fighting fairly had not been a concern when she’d gotten started.

“If I wanted to press the issue, I could suggest that maybe there’s some worry that a woman over twice your age could show you a thing or two.” Ipolla just couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. “If I wanted to press the issue.”

“I have no doubt that you could,” Naiya stated honestly, taking another brief swig of her drink. “I’ve only gone so far in my training, and mama deliberately kept me out of a great deal of it earlier on.”

“Bah, you’re not supposed to be reasonable about it. That’s not how picking fights works. Very well, I’ll defer to your wishes.” She smiled and leaned back. “I’ll figure something out, no worries.”

“Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that I’ll have to start watching over my shoulder lie in those old movies, with the detective and the guy who he’s asked to try and kill him?” came the tease.

“Oh come now. I’m an old warhorse, not a fiend. I may have picked fights in my day, but I never jump people.” Mballa winked.

“Then perhaps we’ll simply have to set something up at some point, when we don’t have our respective sec-folks having fits. Which … my villa would, admittedly, lend itself to.”

“I’m sure I could con Shoddy out of some sparring bots. We could have our own action scene against the horde,” Mballa chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with cooperation, after all.” She raised her bottle in salute, and Naiya mirrored her action. “And this may just be the beginning of a beautiful cooperation.”

[The Boundless Legion]

When it became clear the Captain was in the center of another commotion, his lieutenants dipped out from conversation with Ms. Pawlowski, Karaph offering a hasty "Scuse us please" as they moved to flank their cap, and pull him back from starting anything further if it came to that.

Marcus and his retinue, however, entered into a bit of a holding action, unsure how next to proceed.

[Sunset]

Andacantra

"Oh my!" Demi gasped, hand over her mouth, as she watched the Empress first both rush away and then return slightly as her husband - her own husband! - slapped her. She couldn't exactly see the results, but there was no mistaking the rush for the door. She started up as well, slipping off the bar stool, and held out her hand to the Andacantran. She was about to offer for the pair to leave together - safety in numbers - but a thought occurred to her and she retracted it, "Hold on a moment. We aren't going to be able to leave any faster, so..."

She produced a trio of cards, one of which she handed to the young woman, and the other two she quickly scribbled on the back of. They were standard Consultate cards, with the embossed sunburst and her name and other information on the front and each now bearing a quick, 'Ailiese, call me sometime, Demi' and along with another for the Grand Secretary, though it too was simply 'Rimeil...'

"Not exactly sure why on the second," she murmured, "But what the hell. Are you ready to go, Katenia?" Again she extended her hand in the offer of company. Otherwise the two cards were left on the bar, their missives clearly visible as well as their intended recipients.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Mancuso/Zero-One/The Imperials

If the man had wanted a partner who played fair, he could have perhaps settled for something significantly less than what he had surprisingly found. Perhaps. Though that would have been a life of lies and drudgery, and being the gentleman he was, he could not, in good conscience, do that to another person. Everyone deserved more than that, regardless of who they were – or thought they were.

It was one thing that made him a challenge on occasion, really. His will, his contentment and acceptance of self, without unreasonable baggage about ‘not being good enough’ or other such nonsense. He was who he was, and he made no apologies for it, though he often engaged in self-deprecating humor. He did, however, come about as close to worship of the incredible mind currently sharing his as was possible in with his particular mindset. And with that, of course, came honest love.

He gave nearly as good as he got, though with the inherent cheating and vast amount of superior experience, the eventual outcome could perhaps be thought of as inevitable. Or would have, were it not for the occasional bits that filtered through their shared mindscape, poking at his less practiced ability to block, niggling at his core sense of self. As they made the round approaching proximity of the unfolding scene between husband and wife, suitor and father, and assorted others gathered around, the raised voices became too much of a distraction, and he turned his waking eyes towards the source of trouble.

Just in time to see the blow fall, and the delicate empress crumple to the ground.

“Please excuse me, tessoro mia,” he said abruptly, his normally pleasant expression hardening into one of grim determination. “This…cannot stand.”

With a brief squeeze of her hand, he uncharacteristically stalked towards the pair, ignoring for now the traded barbs and went straight to Alliese. He tossed all protocol and boundaries aside, and with an extremely careful and gentle effort, gathered her up in his arms, and then rose slowly to his feet. Meanwhile, his partner, understanding his actions implicitly, stalked alongside him before planting herself protectively between the two and any possible threats. The doctor was shorter than Mancuso, but most people were, and with him supporting Alliese it may perhaps be noted that al-Fulaniyya was rather sturdily built.

“A towel or napkin, with ice, per favore,” he stated softly to the nearest guard, servant, or person who might pay heed to it, before giving Selevar a cool look.

“Barbarians you may consider us, but at least the better of us know not to raise a hand to the mother of our children, let alone, one’s empress. It would be immediate death back in my time of service. Or rather, a slow, drawn-out one,” he said, his voice still soft, meant for the immediate company only. “Methinks the Lady of Ten Thousand Years has likely been through quite enough. I should think all but the youngest there ought to be decidedly ashamed of their conduct, and think carefully on how best to make amends, and sort themselves out. Most unbecoming, especially the two of you.”

His eyes shifted from Selevar to NaiLin, then back again with slow, measured glances.

[Roania]

A guard hurried to Mancuso's side with the ice and handkerchief he requested.

Selevar's hand shook, and he stood there in quiet shock. There was no movement to intervene against Mancuso. He only shook his head once or twice, staggered by his actions. For the first time, the Grand Duke seemed absolutely speechless. What had just happened was absolutely beyond his understanding of his own self, and his actions. His jaw dropped slightly, as if he was going to speak, and then he shook his head and took off running towards the cliff-edge. He got a few steps before Nesar and Rimeil combined and bought him down, the assassin pinning him to the ground.

"I hardly think The Lady of Ten Thousand Years wants to wake up to find herself a widow, Selevar." Nesar said, his voice cool.

"What... is mother... I mean... is the Lady of Ten Thousand Years alright?" Damalin asked Mancuso, his voice quavering. He'd never seen something like this before, and it had hit him hard. The young prince seemed absolutely at a loss, shifting from foot to foot. He couldn't believe his father... it was beyond him. And then he rounded on NaiLin. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" NaiLin parroted, shocked. "How is it my fault that father... did that?" The Princess gathered her dress about herself. "This entire thing has been absurd. If you and father would just come to terms with... well, everything." She stiffly thrust her chin out, glaring at her younger brother. "I'm sorry you're upset, but this is who I am now, and I refuse to apologize for that. You..."

"NaiLin, Zlithhun makkar, karkare., ai, aihuli, aisyri.." Daeri snapped, striding from the bar to join the crowd. NaiLin looked rebellious for a moment, but Daria raised a finger, and the princess went quiet. "Your mother will be fine, Damalin." The Judiciar put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Why don't you go and get her a drink for when she wakes up. NaiLin, come with me." Once again the princess looked like she was going to refuse, but Daeri didn't give her the chance. The older woman reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. "We're going to speak to some people, young lady."

Daeri was strong enough that NaiLin was pulled along for a few moments before she found the strength to resist. "You can't do this to me! I'm a princess! Let go of me, you..." Once more, there was the sound of flesh striking flesh, and NaiLin went quiet, her eyes wide.

"Right now, you are nothing but a spoiled little brat who's not got the good sense to be quiet when her elders tell her to." Daeri whispered, her eyes glinting in the light. "If I didn't... well, no matter. You want to be a princess? Act like one. Now, come." NaiLin was dragged out of the orchards, her eyes wide and terrified.

"My wife. Good woman, right?" Nesar rolled his eyes as he rolled up to the party with Selevar, the Grand Duke's hands locked behind his back. "How's the Empress, Signore Mancuso?"

[Oyada]

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Courror groaned, making no attempt to disguise his sentiments or even lower his voice at yet another round of drama. He prodded the Spook controls and checked on His Mistress's whereabouts – she seemed safe enough, ensconced on her shuttle with... wait, with who? Huh.

Strange creatures, these foreigners, he remarked to himself, and made an unseen internal wink.

“This is fuckin' ridiculous,” he continued gruffly, “an' I've had enough of it. I didn't spend years getting' me fucking limbs blown off to watch this load of fucking kinoryi actin' tough.” He turned to the Major and rolled his eyes. “I think your word for it would be... what is it... fops? That kind of thing. Too much dress, too much money, too little balls, too little sense, as they say.”

He looked around, wondering if anyone else was... nope, everyone seemed intent on getting a good close-up of the show. Probably comprising two androgynous woofters wafting wetly at each other. “Not even a good, honest twatting, I'll bet.” He checked around some more; his vision was not getting a little fuzzy, and he was pretty well suffused with an atypical sense of benign mischievousness; one which always afflicted him when he'd had a few.

“So, Major. I don't know if you'd care to join me, but I was thinking that the Imperatrice might, perhaps, appreciate some company. And given the setting, and the circumstances, an' the fact that everyone seems intent on leaving, it seems a shame to waste all the facilities our hosts've offered, don't it?”

He stood, just a smidgen unsteadily, and wandered over to the nearest bar, apparently unstaffed and sadly neglected. It seemed to be a bog-standard enough kind of thing; barrels beneath, bar above, lots of glasses and taps and an assortment of cloths which, in any other bar he frequented – Pleasure Dome honourably excepted – were likely to have been used in bacteriological warfare programmes. Bending into a low crouch, he checked around its base, then scrabbled a shiny hand beneath it and gave it a gentle lift. The bar creaked. He elevated it a little more and, with a protesting grind, a couple of weights parted company with the woodwork and sank into the soft grass, while the piled bottles chittered in what sounded like outright terror. But the bar held.

Is this a good idea?

's drink. 'course it's a good idea. Not as if anyone's watchin'. 'sides, I don't like leavin' Her Nibs alone.

Well, that cleared up any doubts nicely.
Courror lowered the bar gingerly down, repeating the process on the other side; its weights removed, the bar was easily mobile, and obviously designed to be so. Indeed, it appeared to have travelling locks; everything could be secured (and was) in a few moments, at which point one simply lifted it like... so.

Heaving and groaning a little, but nonetheless managing reasonably well, Courror backed up to the mighty, polished assemblage and pulled down on its top, using his shoulder as the fulcrum and levering the far end off the ground with a gentle rattle of shifting glassware and discarded earth. After several moments' thought, he planted his feet properly and, assuming a Volga Boatmanesque angle, trudged solemnly in the direction of the shuttle leaving behind him only a cheerful rattle of bottles and some significant confusion for whoever came looking for the bar.

⁂

Fifteen minutes of sweating, hefty hydraulic fluid movements, and slightly puzzled looks from occasional bystanders later, Courror tramped up to the gleaming shuttle, before spending a confused minute finding an entrance suitable for getting through one largish man, plus one smallish bar. Happily, its designers appeared to have anticipated that exact eventuality; in fact, one might even say it had been decided, retrospectively, that such movements were possible. He could've sworn it was much smaller when they arrived. Oh well; no matter. Courror was too amiable and, above all, far too pleased at his own accomplishment to care. He reached awkwardly around, convinced the door to open, and strode into what he always thought of as the entrance hall, before lowering the bar gently to the deck plates. A moment later he had opened up a bottle of what turned out to be very passable pale ale. All was now, once more, well with the galaxy; he leant on the bar and sighed, terminating in a soft whistle, his work well done. Only, now, he had to explains himself. A few seconds' careful thought brought forth his concise, yet comprehensible, explanation:

“Catbats. Drama. Too much. No sense wastin'. Thought you'd like.” And, with a belated nod to the woman whom an hour before he'd been ready to reduce to her component atoms if at all possible, “Evenin'!”

[Scolopendra]

Mballa Ipolla, currently out of uniform with the duty flap down, nodded to the newcomer. "G'evening, and can appreciate the sentiment."

She raised one hand. "Beer me."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

A guard hurried to Mancuso's side with the ice and handkerchief he requested.

Selevar's hand shook, and he stood there in quiet shock. There was no movement to intervene against Mancuso. He only shook his head once or twice, staggered by his actions. For the first time, the Grand Duke seemed absolutely speechless. What had just happened was absolutely beyond his understanding of his own self, and his actions. His jaw dropped slightly, as if he was going to speak, and then he shook his head and took off running towards the cliff-edge. He got a few steps before Nesar and Rimeil combined and bought him down, the assassin pinning him to the ground.

"I hardly think The Lady of Ten Thousand Years wants to wake up to find herself a widow, Selevar." Nesar said, his voice cool.

"What... is mother... I mean... is the Lady of Ten Thousand Years alright?" Damalin asked Mancuso, his voice quavering. He'd never seen something like this before, and it had hit him hard. The young prince seemed absolutely at a loss, shifting from foot to foot. He couldn't believe his father... it was beyond him. And then he rounded on NaiLin. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" NaiLin parroted, shocked. "How is it my fault that father... did that?" The Princess gathered her dress about herself. "This entire thing has been absurd. If you and father would just come to terms with... well, everything." She stiffly thrust her chin out, glaring at her younger brother. "I'm sorry you're upset, but this is who I am now, and I refuse to apologize for that. You..."

"NaiLin, Zlithhun makkar, karkare., ai, aihuli, aisyri.." Daeri snapped, striding from the bar to join the crowd. NaiLin looked rebellious for a moment, but Daria raised a finger, and the princess went quiet. "Your mother will be fine, Damalin." The Judiciar put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Why don't you go and get her a drink for when she wakes up. NaiLin, come with me." Once again the princess looked like she was going to refuse, but Daeri didn't give her the chance. The older woman reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. "We're going to speak to some people, young lady."

Daeri was strong enough that NaiLin was pulled along for a few moments before she found the strength to resist. "You can't do this to me! I'm a princess! Let go of me, you..." Once more, there was the sound of flesh striking flesh, and NaiLin went quiet, her eyes wide.

"Right now, you are nothing but a spoiled little brat who's not got the good sense to be quiet when her elders tell her to." Daeri whispered, her eyes glinting in the light. "If I didn't... well, no matter. You want to be a princess? Act like one. Now, come." NaiLin was dragged out of the orchards, her eyes wide and terrified.

"My wife. Good woman, right?" Nesar rolled his eyes as he rolled up to the party with Selevar, the Grand Duke's hands locked behind his back. "How's the Empress, Signore Mancuso?"

Fabian wordlessly accepted the makeshift icepack and very gently laid it against the empress' face where she'd been struck, keeping his focus on her while the scene played out, while paying attention to the rest all the same.

"Yes your highness, I'm sure she'll be fine," he quietly reassured Damalin, hoping to refocus the young man's attention back to a more useful point. "Perhaps you can assist me in getting her somewhere she can rest, with that drink as the Great Secretary suggested?"

Meanwhile, he busily communicated with his partner in crime, having no intention of second-guessing when a true virtuoso of medicine was available, whether everyone else knew it or not. "M'lady, if you would be so kind as to accompany me," he asked her aloud. "I believe you have a better understanding of such things than I do."

"Lord Nesar," he replied calmly, "You most definitely have an amazing woman to stand at your side. My compliments - and yes, I believe she'll recover apace, if we give her the time and space."

He looked over Selevar with some concern. His reaction had been telling, and he felt a twinge of guilt over having added to what was becoming obvious was an overburdened load for the imperial consort. "I do hope he will be alright as well," he added sincerely. "Perhaps they could all do with some quiet and privacy, out of the sun."

[Zero-One]

Doctor al-Fulaniyya swung into action at Mancuso's call, shifting easily from bodyguard to specialist. "Over there," she pointed towards a table under a tree, then assisted her consort in carrying the Empress over. Once Aliese was situated, Fulanah moved with unsurprisingly clinical precision to take vitals: pulse, blood pressure--though she could only really guess, given her limited instrumentality--and reflexes by pulling back the Lady of Ten Thousand Years' eyelids. "Response normal."

She resisted the urge to pull back the Roanian's lips to check for damage. She further resisted the urge to call it 'cosmetic' damage. "It appears she's in psychological shock. Fabian, if you'll just put the icepack there--yes, that's good." The bronze woman snapped her fingers and pointed at a guard. "You, get a blanket." Shrugging out of her coat, she rolled the garment up and placed it under Aliese's ankles. "Once we get her comfortable, her pulse will decrease and she'll--"

> Reboot. [smile analog]

"--wake up."

Gently motioning Mancuso to the side, Fulanah leaned in to massage the Empress' shoulders in order to expedite the process.

> If only they knew, hmm?

[Andacantra]

Sunset

Completely speechless as to the rapid deterioration of the party, Katenia quickly pockets the proffered card, nods and takes Demi's hand, before quickly moving off in the direction of the exit. She quickly glances over her shoulder to see what seemed to be a large man attempting to detach one of the bars, but decided that it wasn't her problem and that getting out of this situation quickly was far more important. She shrugged mentally and returned to her attempts to make off towards to the exit, trying desperately in the name of good taste not to stare at the developing situation with the hosts.

[Roania]

Daeri walked to the door of the Imperatrice’s shuttle and knocked on it. In her other hand was the princess’ shoulder. NaiLin’s eyes were red with recent tears, but she stood there with the Great Secretary, trying to compose herself.

“Anyone gonna get that?” Mballa asked from the lounge.

From one of the side compartments, Christof stepped out, nodding to Naiya and Mballa as he made his way out towards the hatch. “Got it,” he said simply while Naiya watched on curiously.

He opened the door and looked out at the two women, his face registering some surprise. “What can we assist you with, Great Secretary, princess?” he asked them respectfully. The fact that the younger woman had been crying wasn’t lost on him, but as per the usual Dominion sensibilities, he didn’t draw attention to it as she had not.

“Ah, excellent. I was hoping I would catch the Imperatrice. If it would please you,” Daeri cupped one hand in the other and bowed. “Please tell Her Majesty I would have a word with her.” The Great Secretary, of course, didn’t mean it. She was perfectly willing to thrust her way past him, but with the princess, the forms must be followed.

“Of course,” he said perfunctorily bowing, and making a quick statement over Spook. The response was immediate, with Naiya making an equally quick explanation to Mballa back in the other room.

“Please, she’s just this way,” he continued, gesturing inside and waiting for the two women before closing the door after them.

NaiLin moved to flee, but Daeri squeezed her shoulder and thrust her inside ahead of her. “My thanks.” The Great Secretary continued to march on with her prisoner, entering into the other room with a bow that, after a moment, NaiLin followed. “Good evening, Your Majesty. Supreme Empress.” Daeri nodded. “I appreciate your desire to avoid any further drama from my masters, but regretfully, I must beg your help.”

At being addressed and recognizing this was a formal call, the aforementioned Mballa Ipolla stood up, reattached her duty flap to where it belonged, and thus once again became the Supreme Emperor. By how she stood at parade rest after a polite nod in greeting, she was back to her old martial rigidity.

Naiya had gotten to her feet as well, somewhat unprepared in her loose yoga pants and simple cotton tee, but she tried to straighten up and receive her guests with as much dignity as she could muster.

The Great Secretary, once she was sure NaiLin was trapped in the shuttle, rubbed one hand over NaiLin’s cheek. “I don’t believe you’ve formally met the new princess? NaiLin, Supreme Empress Mballa Ipolla, and Imperatrice Naiya. Your Majesties, Princess NaiLin.” Daeri took a deep breath. “Before I begin, I should explain something. The Lady of Ten Thousand Years has been…”

“My father hit her!” NaiLin burst out in indignation. “I don’t know why you dragged me off. He’s the one who’s been causing trouble!”

Daeri’s expression froze, and she spoke in the voice of sweet treacle. “Young lady, I dragged you off because I think it’s time someone had a word with you about tact, propriety, and not being an annoying brat. And regretfully, your mother has not been willing to do so, and it would be… inappropriate for me to do so. Besides, you won’t listen to me. But I believe their majesties to be… more persuasive than I may be.”

Naiya took it all in quickly, reaching out from habit to lightly touch on the surface emotions to get a better feel for things, and imperceptibly wincing on account, given the vehemence of some of them. Christof had made himself scarce again, so her glance in his last direction yielded nothing. She frowned slightly, and motioned to any of the remaining seats.

“Perhaps we should all sit down first. This may take some talking.” While she mentally braced for the discussion, she made her way over to the fridge again. “Can I get any of you ladies something to drink? We’ve stronger things than the usual if need be. Mballa, a refill? Courror’s stash is still fairly full.”

“No, thank you, ma’am.” Short, simple, to the point: classic Mballa.

“I would like…”

“We’re fine.” Daeri snapped, her hair tightening itself into a prim bun. She reached up to pat it thoughtfully, and took a deep breath. “We’re fine. Thank you, your majesty.” Upon being invited, she sat, dragging NaiLin with her.

Naiya gently closed the fridge door rather than finishing opening it. Right then. She instead walked back to her chair and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and resting back before speaking again.

“Perhaps we should start at more the beginning, so that we’re all on the same page. Great Secretary, if you would please,” she asked politely, deferring to the Roanian. The princess may have quite a bit to say, but given how things appeared to be headed, it seemed the best to start with the least … emotional of the two.

Five months ago, then, we found out that Nelarun’s… well, that’s rather getting into it. The important thing is, he came back as a woman.” NaiLin looked like she wanted to say something, but Daeri glowered until she closed her mouth. “Since then, we’ve had constant fights in the palace, tension over the succession, and it all seems to have come to a head because our new princess decided it suited her to invite her… nobody of a friend… to parade in front of her father.”

“He’s not a nobody!” NaiLin hesitated, but carried on, with rather more force. “And even if he is, which he isn’t, he saved my life! You’re…”

“Talking, princess. That means you be quiet.” Daeri’s eyes narrowed. “I agree. Had the circumstances been otherwise, we doubtless would be rewarding the young man appropriately.” She waved her hand. “But we deal with the world that is, as the precepts say.” The Great Secretary sighed, then continued. “Our society is, alas, not as liberated,” the word left a foul taste in her mouth, and she rushed over it, “as some. Things must be handled delicately, and the Princess has chosen to be quite… offensive about it all.”

The young Imperatrice listened carefully, watching between her two new guests, nodding now and then to let them know she understood, framing the problem more firmly in her mind. Meanwhile, it was only about now that Mballa decided to sit down, more out of an interest in keeping the tension purely in her jaw and avoid the shaking red-lining of previous than comfort or decorum. A face like an iron mask showed no indication that she desperately did not want to be there.

“Her parents have decided, of course, to transfer the imperial dignity to their second… now their eldest… son.” Daeri made it sound as though she approved, without being so crass as to actually say so. “However, for eighteen years, NaiLin has been living with the certain expectation she will one day enjoy absolute power. Which has, I believe… what’s the word? Your tongue is so clumsy..” Daeri muttered to herself for a moment, “spoiled her. She expects the world to fall to her will, and demands we all fall at her feet. She doesn’t seem to understand that people may disagree with her.”

“Of course I understand that people may disagree with me! They’re just wrong. My father is wrong.”

Naiya raised a hand and gave the princess a firm look, her chin tilting up ever so slightly, much like her mother. “Great Secretary, please continue,” she said, allowing those words to say everything she needed them to. Mballa barely raised her hand, then put it down on the armrest, glancing with slow control over towards the younger empress; perhaps her mask twitched ever so slightly around the ends of her lips. The suggestion was that of upwards movement.

“...I believe Her Highness has made it quite clearer than I could.” Daeri rubbed her jaw, exuding slow-burning tension. “The problem is not that your father is wrong, as I have tried to tell you. It is that you are behaving… well, badly. Your father is nothing but a man, and men can be simple creatures. If you would yield just an inch, this…”

“No! And I can’t imagine either of these empresses wou--”

“ENOUGH.” Mballa roared in command voice, then waited to see the effect, daring the princess with a steady glare to defy her. NaiLin went absolutely quiet, turning white.

“Young lady, were I to base my opinion simply on what I’ve seen in these past few minutes, I would say that the Great Secretary here is correct. You have a lot to learn concerning politeness if nothing else,” Naiya offered quietly, approving of Mballa’s firm hand. It provided an excellent counterpoint to her own firm but gentle efforts.

Daeri looked… mildly amused, more than anything. “As I was about to say, all her father wants is a recognition that the situation has changed, that things are no longer the same, and perhaps an expression of regret, or at least an apology.” NaiLin opened her mouth, shut it, opened it again, then sat there sulking in silence. The Great Secretary continued. “No one is going to tell you that you’re wrong to want to be true to who you are. But life, at least for those of us who aren’t going to be Empress, is about compromise. All your father wants to hear is that you’re sorry you’re not going to be his son anymore, and reach out to him to be his daughter. Not this fighting.”
NaiLin looked furious. “I think that’s all I have to say.”

Mballa raised an unintentionally imperious eyebrow. “Apologize for ‘not being his son anymore?’ Absurd.” She raised a finger sharply to forestall any interruption. “But. There is something else. Previously, you were Crown Prince. You had expectations and duties. Through no fault of your own, they were discarded. However, it is… extremely poor form to flaunt freedom. Your younger brother, the current Crown Prince, is struggling under the load that has been placed on his shoulders. Is he supposed to be happy under his sudden responsibility when the previous holder is effectively rubbing his face in her freedom? Regarding your father, there were… expectations. Perhaps unfair given your form of government, but inevitable. The same logic applies--not only are you not recognizing those expectations, you are effectively flaunting that you have avoided them.

“Is he wrong? Yes. I could say more about who and what are wrong, but won’t. You cannot change that. What is in your power, Princess, is how you address the issue.

“At the current point,” the Supreme Emperor summarized, finishing her dressing-down, “your choices in this regard have been… suboptimal.”

“...I didn’t give up being empress next. She told my mother that the law of succession plainly bypasses me now that I’m a woman.”

“I did.” Daeri said, cheerfully. “And I’d do it again, too. Because I’ve seen nothing that indicates you would be any better at being Empress than you are at handling what really should be a simple task of reconciling with your father and brother.”

“Don’t you start.” Mballa glared at Daeri, then set her face back to its iron mask. “If it were simple, it would be solved by now. The Princess is not the only one guilty of acting suboptimally. Anyway. If that is the law of succession, then that is what it is.” She turned towards Naiya. “Your thoughts, Imperatrice?”

“I believe that perhaps language has been a slight barrier,” Naiya began diplomatically. “The idea of apologizing for no longer being one’s son, might perhaps be more appropriately explained, as you have pointed out, as no longer being one’s heir. I think there is no lack of love here, or feelings would not have been hurt so deeply as they have been.”

She paused, looking over at NaiLin a bit more sympathetically to emphasize her point. “That said, Mballa is correct. You have gone through a change. You seem to have accepted it fully, and no one can fault you for that fact. You are who and what you are. And if you are happy in that, then more power to you. It’s more than many can claim. But you have shed your responsibilities, and another has taken them up. This should be not only acknowledged, but appreciated.”

“Whatever the case in point that this has happened on account of, the fact remains - the position of future emperor has changed. And your position and responsibilities in the family has changed with that. If again, what we’ve been shown here is any indication of your usual approach and attitudes, the correct decision may well have been made. I had the pleasure of meeting your brother, and while carrying a heavy load, he had a deep appreciation of the depth of his responsibility. Can you say the same, princess?”

NaiLin frowned, and pouted, and sighed, and did all the usual things she could do to try to wriggle her way out of answering a question she didn’t care for. “Well… of course! I mean… I was raised for the job.” Daeri snorted, but kept quiet. “But even if I admit that I’m not going to be Empress anymore, I don’t see why I should behave in any way as though I’m sorry I’m a girl now. Being a girl is incredible. I’ve never felt better. And… and my father and brother just have to learn to deal.” NaiLin hesitated at that. “I mean, what else can I do? I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t listened,” Naiya said simply. “I believe Daeri said that your gender is not the issue at the heart of things here. It is your attitude. Your selfishness, which you once again illustrated. ‘They just have to deal’. You don’t think that they may have difficulties in the changes that have been made, the mental and emotional adjustments they have had to attempt in shifting their mindsets to something they’ve accepted for your entire life up til now?”

“I…” NaiLin hesitated, long-unused mental energy flickering into life. “I suppose. But if father accepts me at all…”

“One does not put conditions on love, NaiLin. That isn’t how it works.”

“I don’t know.” She mumbled, uncertainly. “I just want them to accept me as I am, and let me do what I want as a girl. And father wants me to do what he wants.”


“Then look at it this way. How would you like to be treated, if the situation was reversed? Perhaps you are so focused on being a woman that you’ve forgotten what it is you’ve given up, and all the hopes and expectations that went with that, that have nothing to do with whether or not you happen to have a pair of breasts, and everything else to go with them,” Naiya stated, one brow arching up.

“If you had a child that you had known all their lives would grow up to rule the entire empire, who had been presented as such from birth until now, and suddenly, for whatever reason, no longer would be your heir told you to simply ‘deal with it’ … how would you react? How would you feel?”

“I… I guess I would be pretty upset.” She admitted. Daeri allowed herself a small smile of triumph. “So what would you suggest I do? I’m not going back!” The idea filled her with dread.

“Yes, you are, young lady.” Naiya’s expression brooked no argument. “Because I know full well how bad things can get when family does not patch these rifts. Whether or not they accept will be in their court, but you will damn well make the effort on your part to no longer be part of the problem, but rather part of the solution. Someone has to make the first move. And as both the younger, and the one with the expectations, I would think you would be an excellent choice.”

“For your mother’s sake, if nothing else. I get the distinct impression she has suffered through all of this in silence, hoping that you would all work it out on your own, rather than cause any more problems.”

“He hit my mother!” NaiLin said, louder perhaps than she anticipated. “Just because she got in the way of him shouting at my boyfriend!”

“And would you like to do something about it,” Mballa said coldly, “or run away and allow the current… disharmony to ensure that it happens again?”

“I don’t want anything to do with him.” NaiLin said, with a quiet growl. “But I suppose I have to, then.”

“Dare I ask whose brilliant idea it was to confront your father at an auspicious public event, and for what cause,” Naiya asked curiously, putting her initial irritation aside for now.

“...first this weird boy, then Lain went up to him.” NaiLin admitted, a bit embarrassed. “I don’t know what he was thinking. I’d come up with this brilliant idea to get father to accept him, and he said that he was going to make father accept him, and then he stormed off. And,... and I thought it was going rather well. Until Lain started shouting, and then…”

“Oi, Jesu Dolce .. bellezza e follia sovente in compagnia,” Naiya said, looking heavenwards then rubbing her temples slightly. “You tried to blackmail this young man you claim is your ‘boyfriend’ into being something he currently isn’t, to gain your father’s approval, and then let him rush off to publicly embarrass the man? Have you no shame nor sense, girl?”

Ipolla gave her opinion of the matter by simply frowning. Apparently she wasn’t before.

“Oh...I… I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” NaiLin looked at her hands, turning pink. “But he seemed so daring and I didn’t… maybe it would have… no, I suppose it was rather silly of me. And father could have… and father did...”

“It wasn’t silly. It was thoughtless and cruel, NaiLin. You expect others to ‘deal with’ who and what you are, as you now are. And in nearly the same breath, want others to adapt and change to your liking, for your own ends. Again, this is not how love works. You need to accept them for who and what they are as well. Whether or not you happen to agree with it, or approve of it. Not to mention, gain something from it,” Naiya replied, her tone decidedly disapproving.

“I just wanted it to be easier…” The princess mumbled. “I know father disapproves of Lain because he’s a nobody.” Daeri grinned, and the Scolopendran tensed just a tiny bit more at the sight of exposed teeth. “And I like him the way he is. I mean, I think he’s too easily satisfied, but he’s very nice.” NaiLin bit her lip. “So… if he went and joined the army or something, father would have to approve of him.” NaiLin turned pinker. “I didn’t really expect him to go running off to confront father, but it was so heroic of him… I didn’t...I…”

“You likely stung his pride with your own agreement that he wasn’t good enough,” Naiya observed thoughtfully. “And no, your father would not ‘have to’. Nor was it ‘heroic’. It was juvenile and stupid. There is a time and place for it, as you’ll learn with experience. This clearly was neither. I think you owe more than a couple people an apology, princess.”

NaiLin nodded miserably. “I suppose you’re right.” She didn’t sound too pleased with that turn of events, of course. She didn’t believe apologizing was a very proper thing to do, especially not for a princess. Still… if she was wrong, she was wrong. And it seems she’d been quite wrong here. “I still think you should be talking to father, not me.” She grumbled.

“I’m sure your father is well aware of how poorly he has been behaving. People who are proud of themselves don’t try to throw themselves off of a cliff.” Daeri said, drily.

Naiya winced at that, even as she shook her head slightly. “Even empresses apologize when it’s necessary, NaiLin. Politeness costs nothing, after all. And the higher you are in the grand scheme of things, the more others look to you as an example of proper behavior. This is why today has been such a disaster for not only you, but your family. This is how many will remember you, your father, for a while now. It’s a pity, when it could have all been avoided with a bit of common sense, and communication.”

“Still. I would start with your brother. Surely you two haven’t grown so distant that you cannot at least talk with him. Let him know you love him - or if you can’t, at least that you support him, and are sorry the burden has unexpectedly fallen to him. You won’t hear any suggestion that you apologize for who you are, for what you are, from me. I understand those intricacies better than you might think,” Naiya continued, making sure the young woman understood there was a difference there, having nothing to do with her gender.

“Perhaps he could go with you to try and patch things with your father. It might be best to see him second. And if you insist on setting your heart on the young man you’ve become attached to, at least do not make it a point of fresh argument with Selevar when you speak to him. Leave all of that for later, yes? It isn’t the most important thing right now - your relationship with each other is. And if you show that you’re mature enough to make these sorts of choices and actions, perhaps he’ll better respect your choice in partners as things progress.”

“Your mother would be best left to last, after you’ve sorted the rest out, to reassure her that all is going to be well. I think she would appreciate that. What you do from there is up to you - your youngest sibling could no doubt use some consoling, and there’s -- Lain, yes? You should apologize to him for having insulted his own honor with the suggestion he needs to change to be who you need him to be.”

The young Imperatrice stopped then, and exchanged looks with the older women in the room, silently asking both their approval, and if they had any further suggestions.

Mballa simply nodded once.

Daeri shrugged her elegant white shoulders slightly, and grimaced, putting her hand on her stomach. “I think that that’s more than reasonable,” She said, with a wince of discomfort. “Remember, NaiLin, no one is going to force you to be someone you aren’t. So if you’re worried about that, don’t be.”

“Daeri, you’ve been through quite a bit with all of this as well. Are you sure I can’t get you something,” Naiya asked, noting the woman’s discomfort, and being aware of her current delicate state.

“A glass of water wouldn’t go amiss, but the best thing for me would be to collect my husband and head home.” Daeri sighed. “I do appreciate your effort, and I add my hope to my colleague’s that this incident will not ruin your opinion of our state.”

“No, m’lady,” the younger woman reassured her, getting to her feet again and heading to the fridge to fetch out one of the bottled waters. “It’s an honor to be available to assist. It’s in all our best interests to help when we can, especially amongst friends. Family troubles have a … personal resonance for me, you might say.”

She handed the bottle to Daeri as she returned, smiling softly. “It’s the least I can do for people I know honestly care about one another, in spite of whatever harsh words they may have exchanged. NaiLin, I know this can be made to work. It just takes time, love, and patience. Your parents are good people, and I’m sure you are as well. It isn’t always easy to make it all show past the responsibilities and burdens is all.”

NaiLin nodded and rose to her feet, cupping one hand in the other and bowing. “Thank you, your majesties.”

“Oh come here, you,” Naiya murmured, smiling and wrapping up the younger woman in a warm, protective hug. “We can’t stand on protocol all the time. And you’ve been through a lot today.”

The Supreme Emperor merely stood and reassumed parade rest with a nod.

“And according to you, I have more to do.” NaiLin set her jaw in place in the way she’d seen Ipolla do it, and nodded. “Well, better get started.”

“That’s the spirit. Best of luck, your highness, Great Secretary. Let me know if there’s anything else I can help with.”

“...there was one matter. Your man was seen heading this way with a piece of imperial property.” Daeri smiled tightly. “I assume you have no idea what’s become of it?”

“I will inquire of him just as soon as I can rouse him,” Naiya assured her with an absolutely straight face. “And I’ll make sure that it makes its way back to the proper persons.”

“Well, that’s fine then. Don’t worry too much about it; after all, men and their drinks.” Daeri laughed the hollow laugh of someone who desperately wanted one, but couldn’t have one. “Thank you again for your time, majesties.” She hesitated. “It is almost beneath one to say, but I think I can promise that we will be appropriately grateful when the time comes.”

“Consider it my thanks for having attended the coronation,” Naiya replied, still smiling. “Be well, Daeri, NaiLin. And best of luck going forward.”

[Roania]

Ailiese sighed as she slowly woke up, shaking her head. "Oh..." The delicate empress mumbled, somewhat perplexed. "What happened?" Her eyes roved vaguely around the garden. "The last thing I remember, I had..." She focused her attention, and then winced. "Oh. Oh dear." She mumbled.

"Mother!" Damalin hurled himself bodily towards the empress, but stopped a few feet back, nervous about damaging her further. "Are you okay?"

"I'm... quite alright, darling." She looked around, finding the Doctor. "So I have you to thank for this?" She murmured, vaguely. "My, my."

[Zero-One]

The tall, athletic doctor stepped back and bowed shortly. "It was simply basic first aid, ma'am, and Mister Mancuso helped." If she was to be a Scolopendran, she'd follow the Scolopendran customs. "Doctor Fulanah al-Fulaniyya, at your service. My card."

A small flicker of smooth yet snappy prestidigitation of one bronze-toned hand offered a small, silvery slip of cardstock to the Empress. "Presumptuous of me, I'm certain, but in case I ever have the opportunity, I would be honored to return the hospitality you have offered."

The slight smile on her lips put an extra emphasis on 'offered' to emphasize that by no means did she mean the excitement that wasn't according to plan.

Oh, won't this be a surprise if she ever looks it up...

[New Naggoroth]

At that point in the evening, to call the party anything short of a disaster might have been the understatement of the year.

While Major Drakharn had enjoyed the company of the few people she had met (in spite of some uncomfortable, or at least unusual, lines of questioning), and the drinks had proven to be pleasant enough, it seemed that the hosts were not in the mood for company. Having chosen to follow Reiz to the scene of yet another royal shouting match, Scarlet was horrified by what she witnessed.

It was one thing to see Lord Selevar, who Scarlet realized she hadn't seen since he was Captain Selevar, acting the way he had around his daughter and now her apparent friends, but it was quite another to see the way he acted with his wife. The way he hit his wife. For what? Disagreeing with him?

The way the others, the sycophants and guards acted was worse. It then occurred to Scarlet why; none of them seemed surprised. Shocked, maybe, but that could just have been because they were in public. This has happened before, the Major thought bitterly. But not again. And the Roanians deigned to call her people 'barbarians'.

Scarlet was incensed. She was enraged. But she didn't show it, at least not immediately. Not as she approached the Prince-Consort, hands held in white-knuckled fists at her side, her eyes fixed on Selevar as if there was nothing else in the world. The guards, and indeed everyone, seemed to be either stunned or attending to the stricken empress, leaving enough of a lane for her to approach within arms length of the bastard. Close enough for her to administer Selevar with a taste of his own medicine.

When she launched herself at him, she made damn sure everyone knew it. Screaming epithets in her native tongue, her left hand grabbed for the lapels of his jacket, the better to hold him still. Her right hand, though, her right came around in a wide arc, aimed squarely for the Prince Consort's cheek. She wasn't going to be satisfied until he was short a few teeth, it seemed...

[Oyada]

Mballa Ipolla, currently out of uniform with the duty flap down, nodded to the newcomer. "G'evening, and can appreciate the sentiment."

She raised one hand. "Beer me."

"Beered", Courror replied curtly, and lobbed a condensation-dripping bottle of the same pale ale toward Ipolla's outstretched hand, belatedly hoping for a successful catch.

The conversation interested him little. Family intrigues were an odd, outlandish business to him now, a faded memory, overlaid with too many years' service and too much regimentation, too many closed doors and too much discipline, all designed to hold in check the fractiousness of people, force them to work as a whole. He'd not had much family, apart from the Army, in twenty-something years. Even his periodic attempts – losing frequency as the years rolled on – had come to nothing. He was never around, and when he was, he was often recuperating from whatever wounds fortune had seen fit to give him in hi latest adventure. So Courror had become more and more accustomed to the camaraderie, restraint, and suppression of the barracks, and thus the endless struggle of the Roanian royalty were, at best, a novelty.

Still, he was content. He was looking over Naiya's shoulder, repaying the debt he owed her in tiny, tiny increments each day; he had enough food and drink to keep him from finding the night too tiresome; all together, life might be worse.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Mancuso stood by watchfully, downplaying his involvement to what degree he could, keeping out of the way of whatever needed to be done.

>Oh gods, the aneurisms that would result … the fun you could have fixing those too … [wink analog]

Of course his expression never shifted visibly. That would be … unsubtle. There had been more than enough of that here today.

>You’ll pardon if I secretly hope she doesn’t, all the same. You know how sensitive they are that way, bless them. Thank you again, m’lady. As always, a pleasure working with you. Around you. Under? Quite.

At that, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, but he soon had it under control.

[Roania]

Ailiese shrieked, as did Damalin. Selevar barely had a chance to react before Scarlet's hand went around and smashed him in the face. Even if he'd been expecting it, there was no chance he'd be able to respond. He was, after all, in his second half-century, a tired, old and rather beaten man. So he did all he could do, and took the blow face-on, dropping towards the ground, his body going limp as a rag in her hand.

"Scarlet, stop! You'll kill him!" Ailiese sprang to her feet, swaying slightly, still not 100%. Damalin, who had by now just reached his limit, began to sob pathetically. He knew it was beneath his dignity, but he couldn't stop himself. Why was all of this happening?

"Stop it! Stop it now!" He ran to grab Scarlet, but Nesar (who was by now losing his own rather considerable temper) grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

There was the sound of fabric rustling, and Nesar's cloaked hand was between Scarlet and Selevar "That's quite enough, young lady." Scarlet's stepfather would have told her that when Nesar loses his temper, the right thing to do is whatever Nesar says. "I agree it was probably well-deserved, but you're sinking down to his level. Prince Casir would not appreciate it if I let his eldest child spend the rest of her life in prison, either."

[New Naggoroth]

The world seemed to slow down as Scarlet's fist met Selevar's jaw, leaving the Prince Consort with a nasty bruise and a split lip. There was no sound, no peripheral vision, just that one crystallized moment of impact, one perfect state of anger that suffused her entire being.

As soon as it had occurred, the moment was gone, and reality came crashing back to the fore. Everything seemed sharper and more focused afterwords; she could hear the blood pounding in her veins, smell the alcohol on Selevar's ragged breath, and finally hear the cries and shouts of those telling her to stop.

"Fight back... hit me you, you cowardly bastard," she breathed, trying to will some sort of fighting spirit into the tired older prince. But Selevar merely slumped, and offered no resistance. Perhaps he thought he deserved this, or perhaps he was simply stunned into inaction. Whatever the cause, Scarlet hesitated. Despite the furious voice in the back of her head screaming that this wretch deserved and needed a good thrashing for his actions, she just could bring herself to land another blow.

Another heartbeat passed, and Nesar's iron grip held her wrist fast, heading off any chance at further violence. Heeding the lord's advice, Scarlet took a deep breath and unclenched her fist. "If you ever touch them again..." she growled as she released Selevar's jacket, allowing him to slump to his knees and let his imagination fill in the blank for her.

Without another word, she stepped back, gave the Empress a curt bow, then turned on her heel to leave. She didn't expect to make it even so far as the gate before the stunned guards sprang into action and arrested her, but she marched away defiantly anyways, deciding to dare them to come after her.