[centre][b]Intermission; Abida and Draza[/b][/centre] --- Draza was up, right early as usual. The sun had not even begun to rise over the horizon when she was getting dressed and heading to the rather fanciful kitchens of the Renaltan Royal Castle. She had not seen such selection of ingredients and finery in appliances than even in her time in the papal castles of Rheinfeld. Perhaps their still conservative nature didn’t make them as open to these new experiences and flavours, or their less than friendly tolerant nature didn’t lend them to gaining such taste of spice. But here, in Renalta, it was like being a fae in a candy store. Befriending the kitchen staff had been a top priority, and using her rank and kindness to do so seemed to be rather easy. It was almost like they never had someone cook for them for once, judging by their reactions. But that’d be silly, who wouldn’t cook these marvelous chefs and cooks and servants a meal in thanks once in a while? Draza scoffed at the notion of thanklessness in such a kind place, and went about her business, going through the assortments of flours and sugars for her baking this morning, smiles and greetings with waves to the others there, and a flower for each of them in thanks and payment for her use of the facility. She didn’t have to pay them anything, but a kindness was a great tip. As the small sprite rounded a corner into another passageway on the route towards the kitchens, Abida stepped out from the wall. It seemed the servants she had asked had been correct about the sprite’s routine. Bowing her head, Abida addressed the woman. “Fair morning. I was told I might be able to find you here.” Giving a small smile, she continued, “It seems they were correct.” Draza eeped, dropping her handful of ingredients back into their bags, turning around to the surprise guest. Abida, the not so very nice girl who did the thing to her arm that made it hurt and, “Oh, fair morning to you as well, who were correct?” “Some servants,” she answered with a dismissive flick of her hand. “They find it easy to remember encounters with the highly generous sprite.” Looking at the sprite, she saw the wide eyes and hastily filled bags. Getting down onto one knee, she bowed her head once more. “I did not mean to frighten you, little one. I sought you out to apologize for my actions in Arian.” “Oh,” Draza said, her voice small and face partially downcast, before her face lit up bright, “I’m so glad you came here to do that, I mean, not that I thought you had to, but I do really appreciate it.” She looked up at Abida, who even on one knee and bowing was taller than her, and with her lips pursed together in a quick musing, she quickly bounced forward and wrapped as much of the woman as she could in her little arms, giving her a hug before almost bouncing back in a quick rebound. “You’re forgiven, immediately and without any ill will from myself to you,” Draza said, matter-of-factly, and nodded with conviction before turning back with a grin to her work. Abida stood quickly after the sprite had let go, surprised by the innocent earnesty. “Thank you,” she said, “I am Abida Qisaf of the Free Holds, and I believe the servants said your name was Durza?” Draza set aside as much of the bag as she could carry into a measuring cup, pirouetting over from it to face Abida once more, doing a curtsy before offering her hand and wrist for a shake, the hand caked in flour, “Draza, actually. Draza Zorya of the Rheinfeld Republic, former Templar, former Papacy diplomat, now and forever a friend.” The elf had to stoop to reach the sprite’s hand, deciding it was better to get flour on her hand than reject the offered shake. “Former? Do you no longer consider yourself a part of your life before the Blades?” “Oh, heavens no, not that. I mean, I was once a Templar, years ago, and then I was a diplomat for the Papacy… years ago. They were phases of my life, maybe, but they were things I did, not who I was,” Draza tries to clarify, talking over her shoulder as she continued to try to do some of her baking even if interrupted. The cookies weren’t going to make themselves, were they? No. She’s not magic. Magic cookies would be nice, but she didn’t have that knack. “More recently I was a politician in the Republic, and well, my heart will always belong to my family and people, I’m now part of something bigger, and the whole world is my family and people now. So many people to help, so many smiles to raise and all!” Abida’s face grew sad at the sprite’s enthusiasm. “I fear there shall not be many smiles on the path ahead of us, little one. And many who will be beyond our help.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Do not burden yourself with such mighty tasks. You seem like one to take failure close to heart.” “Lady Qisaf? If you don’t mind me saying, but nerts to that attitude,” she said, stopping from her work, her tone oddly contrasting her face, “I’ve served in with the Templars, I’ve seen friends who were as family to me die protecting those they love from things dark and wicked. I’ve been so close to death myself already many times before. Smiling is a far better approach to fate than letting it crush you. If all I do is make the people around me able to smile, then I’ve done good. I can’t save people like you can, like others can. We were lucky, that you were skilled, that Meryl was as she was, that things happened as they did because none at our tower died. Because unlike others, I can’t save lives from danger like that. But if I can make surviving better…” she sighed, and continued back to her work after the interruption of passion, “Then I’ve done good. We all save lives in our own ways.” ”You may be right,” Abida allowed, “I hope you are. It is a grim world that relies on steel and blood.” She paused to rub at the tattoo’s by her eyes. “And I am no Lady, though I admit I am flattered by the mistake.” With one final bow she turned away. “At the ball then, Draza.” “Have the most pleasant of times from now till then and forever more, [i]Lady[/i] Qisaf,” Draza said, emphasising the title in hopes of imparting the importance of it upon Abida despite her insistence contrary. --- [centre][b]Intermission; Draza and Townsfolk[/b][/centre] --- It had been an interesting morning, to say the least. Draza was fortunate that one of those from her time in Arian had come to her personally to apologize about even their slightest of misgivings and behaviours, and that immediately set her day off to a rollicking good start. But now, she had a cart paid for, and cookies and pies and cakes and breads and sweltered meat that glistened in its own juice and honeyed exterior. Just on her journey through the streets, a small selection of pickpockets had tried their hand at her wares without her permission, and one by one she called them out as they passed, and gave them a larger share of the goods as a gift from the Queens, not from herself. This food was on her coin and their luxury and if anyone could do with a brightening of a day it was the people in some of the poorer parts of town, and anyone with more loyalty right now it’d be the Queens. Love like this could not hurt. Eventually her cart and carriage took her down along a block of houses, interwoven through porches and patios that linked them across streets. There was some bustle and the sound of hammers upon nails and saws through wood, and children playing underfoot. Streamers of colour hung above, and Draza had been behind enough parties to know what was going on. Moving slowly still into the neighbourhood, Draza stood up upon her ride and took out her lute in preparation, “Hark, dear friends around, do I hear this sound? Children play and bound, mayhap party found?” From above in the work upon the project, a dwarven man with a long beard even for his stature spoke down in a sweet bass, “What ho, fae on ground,” Draza blinked at the continued rhyme and consistent metre, as the dwarf turned to the others and gestured down to her, “Company inbound.” Draza’s face was wide as her smile stretched her cheeks, her fingers strummed across the lute, “Company inquire, dwarven name and task!” Another dwarf, younger looking than the first took a spot beside the first, “Foreigner admire, in Yrdrir clan bask.” The older one picks up the line there, “Workshop and choir, for the rest you ask.” Oh. Oh this street and block were just the thing for Draza’s day. Oh yes oh yes this shall be fun. Her fingers strummed a quick dit across before she asked in singsong, “Have you fair reason, to work with good cheer?” “Granmere’s pleasin, her sixty-eighth year,” answered a third dwarf from above. A clan of them indeed. “Oooooh, for a birthday?” Draza almost squealed with delight. “Verily,” “T’is,” “Yea,” each of the three present responded in metre. Draza’s day had some plans originally, but they had changed. She’d still be giving all she’s got, but she’d make haste in doing so to learn the lay of the town, the wants of the people… and exchange coin for goods to make it a feast for the streets, and those neighboring, and all over. Granmere was an elderly human, beloved by the region, and her coffers on their company would do them well. With singing dwarves and a crew of children who called themselves the Jaloret boys, and many more from near and far… she’d make this birthday one to remember, and everyone a bit happier. --- [centre][b]Intermission; Zin and Draza[/b][/centre] --- Draza wiped sweat from her brow, the heat of the kitchen still enveloped her even after she had left it again for maybe the last time this night. The Aldenais family were grateful to have someone like her be here for Granmere’s 68th birthday, to help put together such a magical occasion for one who was so old for her kind. Everyone from earlier that could be there, was there. The Jaloret kids from down the street, with the dirt and chocolate smeared on their faces from their games and sweets; the Ydrir Clan, so stout as Dwarves, but so kind and voices that felt like they could lift Draza up off her feet when they sung. The interlocked buildings and homes were lined with lights, and laced with sweet scents as the handiwork of a community made the night good for everyone, drinks flowed and food passed round tables and there was merriment in the evening air. There were few thank yous for her now, so many were engaged in friends, family, neighbour, strangers and new friends to pay her much mind. She’d already gotten all the thanks she needed, in the joy she had a hand in catering to. Today was a good day. Based on the light and sound emitting from the building, Zin was sure she’d found the right place. The sprite was well known around Renalta, she had found earlier in the evening, and it hadn’t taken long to find someone who knew about this night’s birthday party. Rather than trying to make her way through the main body of the festivities, Zin headed around the building and was pleased to see a back door that let out onto a porch. There was a fairly spacious patio, and a stage farther out, but she couldn’t see anything in particular going on there at the moment. Zin made her way out into the light with her hood down, putting on a friendly smile like she used when dealing with customers at the textiles store she worked at. Tonight her eyes were disguised, blue rather than the silver of her vampiric heritage, thanks to illusion magic. Nobody seemed to pay Zin any great mind until she walked up onto the porch, where a grey-bearded fellow greeted her. She returned the greeting and asked where she could find Draza, and the dwarven man gestured toward the door with some mention of cooking. Zin thanked him and headed on inside, glad she’d been able to get through the party so easily. It was readily apparent that cooking was indeed happening in the kitchen. The place wasn’t exactly a mess, but it had seen a lot of use this evening. The sprite was nowhere to be found in the room, however, so Zin walked through it to a doorway on the other side. She felt rather at ease walking through a stranger’s home, thanks to her night time hobby of breaking and entering for her own amusement. Through the door was a dining area, and there she found Draza sitting and apparently relaxing amongst many others in the area. Zin made her way through the room with some minor difficulty, thanks to the people who seemed hard pressed to stay in one place for long, but eventually she ended up near Draza. She waved at the sprite and smiled. “Uh, hi. I’m one of the Queen’s Blades who was at Arian.” Draza was presently engaged in a pleasant conversation with one of the townspeople, but at the wave, she held up a hand to the one she was listening to and apologized quickly, saying that it was probably something important and she hoped that they enjoyed the party while she dealt with it. Hopping up and over, Draza quietly tugged at Zin’s garments near her shins, “Let’s talk outside? Don’t want to interrupt the festivities with Blade business!” she spoke chipper as she started off to the back door and past the kindly dwarves. The sprite was off and away before Zin could clarify that it wasn’t actually anything important or businesslike. There was nothing to do but follow, so she followed along and made the return trip through the mass of dwarves that seemed to be everywhere at once, Keeping up with Draza as best she could. Draza led the way down to a secondary porch that connected to the stage and first one through a set of stairs, hanging over an alleyway where the sounds of children and their games could be heard. She took a seat on a chair, scrambling to climb up and into it fast and without much goofiness in her efforts to do so; a chair beside it available for Zin as well. Settling into her spot, and huffing a tired sigh out, she turned with a still vibrant smile to Zin, “So, Blade talk! What herald are you for me tonight? Good tidings, or ill?” Zin took the open seat and sat silently for a few moments, trying to decide on an answer to that. “I don’t think I herald anything. I haven’t got any tidings. Um, I just heard that you managed to get through Arian without fighting and without anyone.. passing.” Her voice quavered as she said the word, and she was clearly uncomfortable with even the euphemism for death. “I was impressed and intrigued, so I decided to seek you and and maybe find out if you had any, er, wisdom to impart? It sounds silly, I know, but I desperately wish to avoid fighting in the future, and I think I might have made a mistake joining the Blades and now I’m sort of grasping at straws here.” Zin coughed and looked away. “Sorry for rambling.” Draza nodded along politely, letting Zin say her piece before speaking up, smiling comfortingly, “Weeeeeeeell,” she let the word lull as it slipped through her lips, “I don’t know what to tell you. I would say I was far more lucky that no one died and that I didn’t have to… well, no, that’s not true. I did fight, just non-violently. I mean, hrm,” she sighed and pouted in thought, “Well, I threw a cookie at someone, but that was the extent of my violence. A cookie I could only have safely thrown because others were violent in my defense. Even if they didn’t necessarily want to do it for me.” Draza sighed at that, “There’s really only two scenarios where you can get by without violence; you’re either in control, or you’re lucky as all get out… and I wasn’t in control. I was lucky.” “Oh.” Zin sighed and ran a hand through her short blonde hair. “I was afraid you’d just say something about luck. I thought that might be the only answer, but I suppose being in control of a situation would make avoiding violence easy too. I’ve just been so, I don’t know, worried about the future I guess. Worried about dying and losing friends and companions and seeing bad things happen to people. I haven’t been thinking very clearly lately.” Zin sighed again, this time followed by an apologetic smile for Draza. “I’m sorry, I just met you and I’m pouring my heart out to you, haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Zin, and I’m a bloody mess at the moment.” She held out her hand and realized only after it was already out there that a sprite probably couldn’t manage much of a handshake. Not that that bothered Draza much. She scooted over and took the hand in both of hers, and shook it, bowing her head as she did so, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Lady Zin, I’m Draza,” she stopped and let go of the hand, “As you knew.” She paused with her lips pursed before breaking into a grin again despite herself, perhaps not the best time to be doing so, but maybe it’d be infectious? “Don’t pay any bother to pouring your heart out. Sometimes you need to clear out that old thing. Also, if you’re worried about luck, don’t be.” Draza slid back into the chair more, stretching her legs, before shifting back to the edge so they dangled, “People can make luck, it’s not like it’s just a thing that comes from on high. We’ve [i]banished gods[/i] before. This Blade’s business may suck but we’ll get through it well enough in the end. The journey may suck, but the destination will be a better world for it.” It wasn’t quite a grin, but Draza’s words managed to pull a pleasant smile from Zin. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe I’ve just been letting my fears pile up for too long without airing them out. When you look at it like that, that the gods were banished not that long ago, well, I guess dealing with some demons doesn’t seem quite so bad.” Zin gave the sprite an appraising look. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extraordinarily easy to talk to? I feel like you must be using some kind of magic on me. A few moments ago I was a nervous wreck, and now I’m calm. Are you some kind of evil sorceress, toying with my emotions?” Her joking tone made it clear she was not actually accusing Draza of magically manipulating her, but there was still a bit of suspicion in her eyes. “Evil? No, no gods no, not evil… but, otherwise…” she let the sentence trail on as she looked about as guilty as she could force herself to. “But seriously, I’ve got no aptitude with magical arts. Baking, fine print, toy making? Those I can do. Magic? I sure may be a fae, but no way not today.” Zin laughed, partly at the sprite screwing her face up to look sinister and partly at the silly rhyming. “I see. Well, that puts my mind at ease on that count. Truth be told, I’m kind of the opposite; I’m an atrocious cook and I have no idea how to even begin making toys, but I know some magic.” She waved a hand in front of her face and her illusion was gone, revealing her silver eyes. “Illusions are my specialty.” Zin paused, realizing what she’d done. “And, uh, I’m also a vampire. That’s almost the opposite of a witch, right?” Draza almost said something, but caught the words in her mouth as her cheeks inflated from the air escaping making it so she visibly caught the word before it left her lips, and swallowed it. She really didn’t want to mention her time in relation to witches and vampires, namely the accompanying of Templars who hunted down and killed them. And so she didn’t. Trying to smooth things over, she thought up a little lie for her face and response, “Don’t think I’d be the one to ask that, and I’ll be honest, it’ll be nice to have an illusionist on our side after… well, anyway.” Actually, that wasn’t that good a place to step into conversationally either. Awkward. Though she was quite curious about the hedging answer, Zin had enough social grace to allow Draza to avoid whatever it was she was avoiding talking about. “I hope I can be of use, yes. Unfortunately I haven’t found a whole lot of practically useful illusion spells I can manage yet, other than the one I use to hide my eyes. I’ve been told I have a gift for casting illusion spells, but actually finding spells that would be useful for something other than a party trick seems to be a challenge.” She shrugged. “I’m also learning some healing, so at least I’ll have that even if I never figure out what to do with illusions.” “Well, illusions are good for giving yourself control, actually,” Draza began, “You can make threats of violence with forces that aren’t… real, or even make them think they’re being attacked. Corner, defeat, no actual battle, no actual harm?” Or at least, that’s how Draza thought illusion magic would work in that scenario. She thought Meryl’s things were illusions, but they did real damage… or were they just mixed in with illusions? Illusions are confusing. “I tried that with some fire before, but it didn’t seem to do much. Maybe I’m just not strong enough yet to take control with illusions, maybe it’s too easy to tell that my illusions aren’t real.” Zin shrugged. “More study and practice should help. Anyway, I’m surprised that you’re not a magic user. I thought all of the fae were supposed to, I don’t know, depend on magic to live? Or is that just the stuff of stories?” “There’s probably magic pumping in me, my family insists that there is, but I’ve got no way to tap into it if I did. No talent, natural or otherwise, plus… well, I grew up in Rheinfeld,” she said, thinking and hoping that’d explain enough of her lack of magic for Zin. It did indeed, and Zin nodded slowly. “I grew up in Liveria. They’re not as bad about magic, but about vampires and the like, well…” Zin laughed, though it didn’t contain much merriment or humor. “I was very lucky that my family just exiled me when they found out rather doing worse. Avoiding magic seems like a smart thing to do in Rheinfeld, for similar reasons as those in Liveria tend to avoid my kind.” “Well,” Draza smirked just a wee bit, “And you know what else is a hopeful future? Save the world, and maybe they’ll stop hating on those bits of ourselves and people in general.” Zin shrugged. “Perhaps. I have my doubts, but anything can happen.” A bemused smile crept onto her face. “I would love to see such a future. A world where the people of Rheinfeld and Liveria learn to accept mages and vampires and everything in between would be a marvelous place. I would be able to go home in such a world.” Zin sighed, shaking her head a bit. “But for now, perhaps a less bittersweet topic would be nice. Have you made any preparations for the upcoming ball? I fear I’ve no idea what to wear, and I’m running out of time to get something new made.” “You should check out another within our company, who enjoys her solace as well. Lady, erm,” Draza catches herself, going to the preferred name of the woman, “Alicia has fine connections to silk and tailoring through her manservant’s craftsmanship. She’s gotten him through contract with me to make a dress for the ball that fits me daintiness. What more,” she tries to lean in as if giving a bit of a secret, but it makes little difference with her stature, “Jacque’s tailoring is haste without waste, he could have you something fine before the gala ball.” “Ah, I don’t know if I could do that. I don’t doubt the man’s skill, and surely he’ll do fine work on your gown, but…” Zin trailed off, shrugging again. “I don’t think I could trust a new person to do an important task like this on short notice. I like to think I’m cautious, but others have called me a creature of habit. I would have to go to one of the women I’ve contracted with good results in the past, I think.” She smiled at Draza though, a genuinely warm expression. “Thank you for the reference. I’ll certainly pursue it, but not for this particular job. Tell me though, what sort of dress are you having made? Perhaps yours will give me some inspiration on what to wear, as I currently lack even the faintest hint of a plan.” “I’m not sure what the official nomenclature of my garb would be, but the lady and I have taken to calling it a ‘safety dress’,” Draza began, “See, there’s an under more form fitting and ease of movement dress, stylish in its own right but not befitting of such an event, and sewn in with frail seams is the over dress, flowing and regal and truly kissed with grace. If things go well, I represent the Blades proud, and if the manure hits the aqueduct, well, safety dress!” she echoed her sentiments from before. Zin laughed, shaking her head a bit. “I’ve never heard of such a thing before, but it sounds like a fine idea. I think this idea could become very popular, if it were to spread. There have been quite a few times such a safety dress would have come in handy for me in the past.” She counted them off, lifting a finger for each one. “A torn seam at my sister’s birthday event, once I was splashed with mud by a passing carriage and had to suffer with a dirtied dress through the night, another time a fellow carrying the wine tripped and threw quite a bit of it at myself and a few other ladies, all the times I’ve clumsily dropped food or dribbled drink on myself, the time I fell and torn the front of my skirt all the way up to my knees…” Zin trailed off with another laugh. “And many more, I assure you. It feels like half the time I’ve put on a fancy dress something awful happens to it. I hope this ball will be one of the other half, else I may as well go dressed in trousers.” Draza giggled sheepish at that, “Well, with the importance of things, and the variety there… maybe you could sneak trousers in and be fine. There’s definitely cultures that would respect it going to be present. Your comfortable best will likely be good enough.” “Maybe so, but what would the queens-” Zin cut herself off, remembering what she knew and had seen of Queen Alex. “Rather, what would Queen Kouri think of that? I imagine she wants her Blades to look their best at this event, since it’s so important. I feel like a nice dress is almost mandatory.” “Perhaps,” Draza said, wondering why Zin corrected from queens to just Kouri, “But if you’re going to be uncomfortable and risk such clumsiness, I don’t think you’d be looking your best and doing yourself, the dignitaries, or the group honour.” “Then I suppose I’ll just have to be careful and hope for luck.” Zin thought for a moment. “And perhaps I’ll make some luck of my own, while I’m at it. I just thought of another practical use for illusions, if only I can find or create the proper spell for it. If I can change the color of my eyes, surely hiding a stain would be no trouble at all.” “Now that’s a proper use of your noggin and magical knack, if I ever heard one. Not flashy, but great, practical,” Draza said, “I like it.” “I feel like I’m well on my way to becoming a master illusionist.” Zin chuckled at her own nonsense. “Do you have any plans for the ball itself? I’ve heard there are going to be representatives from all over the world in attendance.” “Make connections, check up on my homeland through dignitaries, and try to test the political waters between everyone. I’m so used to just worrying about, or rather,” she corrects herself, “Primarily worrying about my homeland, but now with the blades… I should make efforts to help everyone more overtly. It’s my job now, you know?” “I agree, we’re out to help everyone, not just our homelands. I was thinking of doing much the same, trying to make contact with as many people as possible and building a good reputation for the Blades. I was initially thinking of avoiding those from Liveria and Rheinfeld, but perhaps I’ll just hide my eyes and see if they can tell what I am.” Zin grinned and got a mischievous look in her eyes. “It would be quite a lot of fun to have good rapport with them before they learn that I’m a vampire. That would make for a bit of a shock, I think.” Draza was stuck between childish giggling and serious consideration, and so she did both, stopping her laugh only to comment “It may be best to either be candid or closeted, I feel something in the middle may only bring ire… but if they do see through the illusion, it may be best to have just been candid.” She shrugged, “There shouldn’t be any real troubles from either, I think, but I can’t be the most…. well, the best at this. I can hide any magic that may be in my veins more than your doubling up on the err in your blood.” Zin nodded. “You’re probably right. Better to hide it completely or to not hide it at all. It would better for the Blades if I don’t play games with any of the important people at the ball.” She shrugged with one shoulder. “Truth be told, I probably wouldn’t have gone through with it anyway, though your advice is good regardless. It’s an amusing thought, but I’m far too cautious to risk nasty responses from such a trick. I think I’ll simply hide my eyes and my nature at the ball, to avoid causing any ill will for the Blades by my association.” Zin passed a hand over her eyes again, and this time they were green when she was done. “Though of course that means I’ll have to choose which shade of eyes will best fit whatever dress I wear for the night. I envy women who lack this particular choice of accessory.” And they chatted and giggled about clothes and other nonsense long into the night, until they ended up joining the party for a bit. Zin was uncomfortable about it, and eventually made her leave while Draza stayed behind with new friends for a late night of fun.