There has never been time such as this before, where one should turn from foe into friend. They say conflict is the death of communication, where reason cannot be brought. Before her is a friend and a most reasonable boy, Yalen. Perhaps today is one where conflict can brought to an end.
With the Supreme Melon in hand, Yalen sneaks off by himself, avoiding the protection offered by others of his team. Ayla struck first against Yalen with a sonic attack, disorenitating and slowing down him to begin insightful discourse with him. Ashon, seizing the opportunity struck first against Yalen but missing. Yalen quickly swung around and he unleashed his skills upon the yasoi, catching him by surprirse. Yalen weaved and bobbed, overcoming the illusions by punching through them, and deflecting the internal chemistry, Ashon finds him quickly unable to keep up against him. With a one-two, the Yasoi was down.
Ayla was a significantly different challenge for Yalen to face, the girl danced around Yalen as he struck hesitant towards her. The chemical attacks struck dumbly as they washed over her, ebb-and-flowed as she clapped with her castanets. She moves gracefully as she danced, some how managing to duck and weave as part of the natural rhythem of the music. The castanets slapped against his ears, continuing to grow and increase in intensity and volume around him as he grew more disorientated with each passing moment. The crescendo comes to a stop as the castanets clap deafeningly against his ears, the blonde boy falling back into Ayla’s arms as she gently brings him to the ground and rests his head comfortably upon it. She smiles down towards him as he is still awake. “Rest a moment, and it will fade.” Brushing his hair till he stops struggling, whispering to settle him.
She uses the spare moment to wake Ashon up. “Send the signal, the Supreme Melon is ours!” Ayla takes the melon as it still glows brightly within her hands. Moving off with the groggy Ash trialing behind her as he uses his chemical magic to create a coloured cloud of smoke into the air.
The plot was all a ruse, for Ayla knew she did not have the Supreme Melon. What she did was whisper something else in the ear of her friend, one of hope and cooperation. Was it right of her to place trust in a good friend?
“Life is a Magus, Spend it wisely.” 14 | Female | Torragon | Merchant | RAS: 5.72, Tethered?
Associations:
❖ Biro, Ersand'Enise Academy of Thaumaturgy ❖ Torragon ❖ Mercador Trading Company
The Gift:
❖ [ Arcane:specialism ] – [ 0. Neophyte ] - Not trained. ❖ [ Binding:specialism ] – [ II. Apprentice ] - Maura has experience of using binding in the use of impromptu construction and when it comes to assessing materials. ❖ [ Chemical:specialism ] – [ I. Novice ] - Maura uses for the assessment of materials. ❖ [ Kinetic:specialism ] – [ I. Novice ] - Maura uses kinectic to support in moving her rollerchair. ❖ [ Magnetic:specialism ] – [ I. Novice ] - Maura uses for the assessment of metals and alloys.
Description: Cripple. Invalid. Tethered. These are generally the three words that are guaranteed to come up in any conversation about Maura Mercador. Despite what people may profess, they are only fixated on the outside appearance. These are the rules we live by in society. It is highly convenient to categorise based on appearance alone. In a world where binders can fix every bone and alchemists seem to have a tincture for every ailment, what is the role for someone who cannot be ‘fixed’ ? Smart, Charming, Funny. Wouldn’t it be nice for these three things to be discussed instead. The warm smile she gives when you enter the room. The quip about the latest gossip which gives you stitches in your sides. The fact Maura is frequently at her desk, accounting for a trading company diligently at such a young age. Beautiful, Fashionable, Sociable. Maura takes great pride in her appearance, sometimes appearing pristine as if she was a perfect sculptured doll. Adorned in jewellery, dresses, and eyebrows on fleek, it is rumoured she had an influence on Ayla’s wardrobe to make the girls erratic choices work. When it comes to friendships, how many merchants can say they have the genuine friendship and ear of a high noble house, or in this case, the Arslan family. This is a prosperous and mutually beneficial relationship that has helped both profit from the trading from Varrahasta. Ambitious, Calculating, Underestimated. Beneath the warm exterior is a driven girl, one who has her goals and the means to carry them out. Often overlooked due to her being ‘disabled’, people fail to realise disability is a product of one's environment, not inherent to the individual. Because she may struggle to walk up stairs doesn’t mean her other abilities are similarly impaired, and when she isn’t encountering a flight of stairs, neither is she. Realising one's place in your environment is a powerful weapon for adapting, and Maura is going to the top. Resourceful, Self-Aware, Risk-taker. Maura aims to take over the family business and further its expansion. A goal to secure monopolies in certain trade goods could catapult the Mercador family to the heights of the West Severan trading company. Due to political tension, she has suggested diverting resources to building links with neutral nations such as Enth to weather the storm of war and take advantage of the power vacuums that would be left behind in its wake.
Oksana Levlytsar
“Nothing is quieter than Snow.” 17 | Female | Vossoriya | Kozaky | RAS: 6.79, Icevein
Associations:
❖ St. Yuri's Academy of Thaumaturgy ❖ Candidate for Ersand'Enise Academy of Thaumaturgy ❖ Vossoriya ❖ Viys’ko
The Gift:
❖ [ Arcane:Ice ] – [ II. Apprentice ] - Oksana frequently uses arcane magic to create light from auditory sources to help her ‘hear’. It has the appearance of sparkling which can be distracting. Oksana feels at home within the cold. ❖ [ Binding:specialism ] – [ I. Novice ] - Whilst Oksana generally sculpts with ice, she experiments with other materials through binding magic. ❖ [ Chemical:specialism ] – [ 0. Neophyte ] - Not trained. ❖ [ Kinetic:Vibration ] – [ II. Apprentice ] - Oksana often converts kinetic energy to heat or light, drawing upon the energy in the micro-movements. ❖ [ Magnetic:specialism ] – [ 0. Neophyte ] - Not trained.
Description: The Stanytsya was in silence. Oksana watches from the snow. Silence. Flames lick across the thatch and burn. Silence. Raiders attack in the darkness. Silence. Red shadows blaze upon the floor. Silence. The blood splatters upon the ground. Silence. White blanket covers and comforts. Silence. Horsemen ride hard to save the day. Silence. Held within strong arms too tightly. Silence.
After the events of that night, Oksana has now entered the world of silence. She is proudly Deaf which means she has an inability to hear speech. After having experience of speech, she is able to speech read and understand phonetic language to a passable degree. This is using contextual cues, and familiarity with buzz words and key phrases. Her understanding is enhanced by her use of the gift. Subtlety and nuance may be lost in translation. Oksana is familiar with the use of signed language, adapted from the silent communication hunters and scouts use for tracking purposes.
Oksana due to being quiet can be mistaken for being cold and unsociable, though typically this can be due to the communication barrier or it can be shyness. This can also be a self-defence mechanism as it limits and prevents others from approaching her. She can also emotionally shut down when she is being overwhelmed as she feels her senses become overloaded typically in crowded environments. She responds better in quieter one-to-one situations where she can more easily follow the conversation. She greatly prefers to do activities with her hands and with her proficiency with ice magic, typically ice sculptures, able to create elaborate shapes. She often takes part in physical sports and activities, particularly in endurance activities due to growing up in the tundra where dredging through snow is part of daily life. She has a fondness for tracking and animals, feeling a kinship with these at preference to other humans at times.
Oksana judges people a lot by their actions and their body language. She is able to pick up sincerity quite easily as she is often concentrating on their movements and gestures opposed to the words. She can be blunt and plainly spoken to convey her own meaning. She is democratic in her outlook, not being held to titles of nobility, though there is respect for elders due to generally possessing greater knowledge within the Stanytsya.
The weeks have been tense as Ayla has been frantically preparing. From questioning her friends, to trips out into the city upon Gina. It seems she is seeking something as she makes her way around the city. Her tension level appears to be even greater than the impending attack of the Royal Sand Wyrm.
In the morning, you are greeted with a knock on the door as a courtier brings a parchment to your attention.
The Manson de las Mil Ventanas, or commonly known as the Mansion of a Thousand Windows. This is a beautiful large property sheltered from the road, and known to be the residence of King Sancho of Torragon whilst he attends the Conclave of Thrones.
To be granted permission to enter as a guest would be viewed as an honour, especially for those on the other side of the alliance. As a guest, it is expected you will make a great effort in your appearance, adorning appropriate formal attire expected of one's station, with those below noble are expected to dress above their peers in order not to cause offence.
For those who accept the summons and present the letter, they will find their entrance into the grounds of the mansion. The area is filled with vibrant green, with flora transplanted from native Torragon and brought to root and carefully crafted. Green foliage adorning the tall white-washed walls as colourful flowers sprout from the buds. Tall Cork oak trees shade the mansion’s view from the road with a prominent purple Jacaranda tree in the centre of the courtyard. Smaller trees of almond, fig, and lemon laden with fruit give the impression of bountiful wealth. The outside of the building is surrounded by a well maintained pool, with archways to curtain-lined entrances for guests to use in hot weather to bathe. Columns rise up from the ground to the terracotta laden roof in Avincian classical style to denote learning and sophistication, with the round fort tower-like style of the halls as a subtle display of dominating power and strength. The key feature of what the Mansion is named after, the array of colourful stained glass windows, each depicting a picture of Tourrare history, from humble but strong steppe folk to the mighty empire they have founded today.
As the doors open to the entrance hall, the bright light of the sun shines through creating a rainbow effect which softens as the eyes adjust to the lighting inside. The biros will notice they are not the first to arrive, with staff already waiting upon other guests, and food travelling through to the main hall to ensure tables are laden with food, as the servants prepare a banquet. for those wishing to dine. Ayla is by the door, enthusiastically greeting her friends, and even guests they may have brought along with them. Beyond the initial greetings and settling down, there is a chime being rung against the glass.
A loud voice booms through the hall. “Presenting the host, Duquesa Azahara of House Arslan”.
Attention is focused on the one Ayla refers to as “Ma”, better known as Lady Azahara, mother of Ayla Arslan. Wearing a beautiful long gown of deep purple, the taller and older Arslan is adorned with jewellery and ornaments that overshadows the style typically worn by her daughter, as to give her a prominent regal appearance. If you were to compare the daughter and the mother, it would appear that Ayla is truly a ‘Mini-Me’.
Azahara greets the guests as they enter the room one by one, each guest has their name spoken aloud then formally greeted. Ayla takes a head-count of all those present. “Thank you for accepting my invitation, glad that so many of you were able to make it. When you go through, your name would be announced. Pay your respects to Ma, then walk in. They should be allowing you to dine shortly, free food, yay!”. She smiles widely, giggling, excited to be entering with some of the friends she has made during these weeks at the academy.
The loud voice booms. “Now presenting, Lady Ayla Arslan, and her guests, Biros from Academy of Thaumaturgy…”
As Ayla steps through, she is quietly exchanging a few words with her mother. A look of concern appears on Ayla’s face, as only the words which may be overheard: “... not the only one who is disappointed. Now make yourself presentable and settle your friends into their places.”
As each of the biros come forward to greet the host, they are each met in a pleasant and polite manner. “Thank you for being able to attend our banquet this evening”, the pleasant mask hides her true expression, and those who think they may perceive beyond it may be confused by the idea that it may be hiding a smile.
The guests continue to come through, various nobility and prominent figures in the area are announced and enter through the doors, a few of the names may be recognised and expected to attend such an gathering. Ayla supports the hostess, trying to settle her friends at a suitable table. “There are a few contacts around the room and opportunities, and there is fine food being served. Help yourselves to opportunities, though try not to do anything that may reflect badly upon myself.”
As the welcome starts to draw to the close, there is one last name being announced. The voice boomed, “Presenting Maura Mercador of Varrahasta”.
At the doorway is an auburn long-haired girl in a rollerchair, adorned in jewellery in the style of Ayla’s own, features enhanced with make-up, and wearing a beautiful gown dress which appeared perfectly groomed as if attended to like a doll.
The girl smiles as she makes her way towards the table the biros are at, the wheels moving akin to Jocasta’s own through the use of kinetic magic. There is an appearance of an eerie silence, akin to a calm before a storm, as she approaches the table, the spell broken as she speaks in a soft, sweet, sing-song manner. “Is there room for one more at this table?”
This was the moment the storm erupted, as Ayla cast herself towards Maura, almost diving upon the poor girl to give her best friend the biggest hug that could have been mustered in that moment. Even Maura looked shocked as she freezes for a moment, giving a moment to start curling her arms around the lion cub, holding her tightly in return as she strokes her arms upon her back. Ayla was sobbing hard as tears rolled down her cheeks as she was being comforted, gently being hushed and comforted by Maura. “... what kind of greeting is this, what has got you upset little cub. Are these friends of yours bullying you?” She gives a playful look at those gathered, her eyes focusing upon one of the group for a moment, whispering a tease into Ayla’s ear, “Need me to beat up the one with the dark hair for you? She wouldn’t stand a chance, this chair wouldn’t stop me.” Ayla couldn’t help but to offer a soft laugh at the idea of Maura even harming a fly, nevermind finding herself in a sparring match against Zarina. She uses the opportunity to gather her thoughts and emotions together after her embarrassing display. Maura whispers towards her as Ayla smoothes out the crumpled dress, turning around for introductions. “This is my best friend since childhood, Maura. Her family are merchants who operate from Varrahasta bringing in the northern ReTan trade from Virang and Malabash, then bringing it across the Ensolin sea to Revidia and Ersand'Enise.”
The Letter
Yalen That morning Yalen had done something quite out of the ordinary for him: He took off his holy vestments. Carrying out the daily training prescribed to him by his sister was a burdensome task, and the heavy robes of the monastic order were beginning to get in the way. Dressed in only a linen shirt and a pair of drawstring pants, the young monk looked more like the son of a man-at-arms than a Brother of Sunset.
Colette had been called away to deal with an arrest warrant and wasn't able to accompany him today, so he was currently practising sword swings in front of his room. He had no intention of mastering the blade, but according to his sister it was an excellent upper body workout, so it became a kind of homework for him to do when she wasn't around. For a born and raised fighting man who handled such weapons since childhood, the 5 pound longsword may have felt like a natural extension of their body. For the sheltered boy known as Yalen Castel, it was anything but. After cutting the air repetitively for a good thirty minutes his shoulders were starting to ache, and the skin of his uncalloused hands was reddened and sore.
When he was finally too tired to raise the sword over his head, Yalen dumped the blunt practice weapon on the ground unceremoniously. It was time for a break. He picked up a bucket of water and thoroughly chilled it with arcane magic before dumping it over his head. His body had grown hot from exertion, so the warm outdoor breeze felt like ice when it touched his wet skin.
The sound of approaching footsteps caused Yalen's head to turn. A well dressed gentleman was on a direct approach with a sealed roll of parchment in hand.
"Hail fellow, well met! I apologise for interrupting your training, but might you be Brother Castel?" The courtier greeted him. Yalen swept his bangs away and wiped the water out of his eyes.
"I am. Is there something you need sir?"
The man held out the roll of paper, which the teen accepted after wiping his hand dry on his pants. "The honourable Duque Arslan invites Yalen Castel to the Manson de las Mil Ventanas for an audience."
Yalen's face twisted in confusion. Arslan...? It took a few seconds for him to suddenly perk up. Oh! That's Ayla's family.
"Thank you for delivering this message to me. If I may ask, where is this... manson?" The Miattan native questioned, unfamiliar with the words used by the courtier. The man gave a shallow bow.
"Pardon my hastiness Brother. Allow me to clarify. The young Lady has gained you entrance to the Mansion of a Thousand Windows. It is the residence owned by King Sancho of Torragon. You may have passed it several times while walking around the city - It's hard to miss all the stained glass."
Yalen crossed his arms and nodded. He did in fact know where the mansion was. He also knew that the property was heavily quarantined and surrounded by guards. Often he was too busy speed walking past the security to get a good look at the place.
"If I have been invited to such a prestigious gathering, then it would be above my station to refuse. Please let Lady Ayla know that I will be there."
Dory The morning was rather ordinary for the young Feskan, taking some of her baked treats as her breakfast. Seeing her smile again was a sign or relief to everyone around her. Worsened as she found a letter among the mail she had received.
‘Dear Dorothea,
Your père and I have received your letters. I am writing this letter back as I am visiting Ersand’Enise soon. I must say that your choice in suitors is rather poor. To think ma fille would choose to be with someone of such low standing. I shall not accept such a thing!
Luckily for you, I was caring enough to find someone more suitable for you. I think you would be quite fond of him too. His name is Maurice de Arroux, heir to the duchy of Arroux. The Arroux have always been somewhat a thorn into the backs of the Herbeumont and with this we could make the family subservient towards ours.
And aside from that, I will bring Karl with me too to keep a better eye on you. I can’t have you cancel this important meeting after all. She will also be attending the school from now on.
All my care, Marie de Herbeumont’
“Verdammt Mutti, can’t you at least let me choose my own suitor?” The Feskan was practically shaking from the news, to think she’d dare to ruin her school life this far from home. “Filthy puta-Agh!... Hure! I will have a word with her on how she should address Manfred.”
A soft knock could be heard as an apologetic voice came from the other side. “Bad time?”
Hearing an unfamiliar voice at the door snapped the Feskan back to reality. “No, not at all, I’ll be there in a moment.” walking towards the door and opening it to see what news would be awaiting her. In the opening would stand a well dressed fellow. “Good day to you, miss. I hope I was not interrupting something important.” The man bowed courteously
Dory let out a rather annoyed sigh. “No need to be so formal, I am barely a noble to begin with.” The girl could not handle the formal behaviour, although this might mostly be due to a small hangover from last night.
The courtier looked rather shocked. “No miss, I insist! It is proper etiquette to be formal.” The man quickly remembered why he was at the door to begin with and composed himself once more. “Ahem… Miss Hohnstein, the virtuous Duque Arslan has invited you for an audience at the Manson de las Mil Ventanas”
“Manson de le Mille Venta?” Dory could not help but chuckle upon hearing it. “It must be quite draughty then, at least if it truly has a thousand winds going through it.”
The courtier could not truly see the fun in it as he let out an unamused cough. “It is the residence of the great King Sancho of Torragon whenever he’s in the area.”
The word king rang a bell inside Dory’s mind; her eyes practically showed her intent. “Does that mean a lot of influential people will be attending too?”
The courtier, showing the parchment to her before answering. “There will be, however, the Arslan family will be the main focus, of course.” Giving the Feskan the Parchment. “Please be sure to wear your finest silk.” The courtier noted before bowing and leaving.
After closing the door, Dory quickly went towards her globe and looked for Torragon. “All the way over there?... What use will they serve me and my people? I guess having a friend in Duque Arslan might not be the worst thing…. Arslan?... Arslan…” After some thinking she finally realised. “Is this Ayla’s family?... Perhaps it might be best to go for her than for my own ends.”
Remembering all the things Ayla said during the sleepover made her selfish thoughts fade from her mind. “Bah! Guess I’ll have to pull out this stupid dress maman gave me..”
Manfred Manfred rolled over in bed. The hours of Shune were at an end and those of Oraff beginning. Such had been his routine for the past week. It was all so empty, so pointless. How evil his parents truly were, how preoccupied with her own problems Dory was, and how useless he'd been as one who was supposed to protect her. She'd nearly died at the hands to that Eskandish beast. Eun-ji was gone too: called back to distant Tan Keoul on urgent business, and he could not help but feel so much had been lost along with her. Worst of all, though, was that ghastly little thing called 'Marceline' that had overwritten his dear Nina.
He reached for the stein of warm beer by his bedside and emptied it into his mouth, only a bit trickling down the stubble of his chin. He'd received a fancy invitation from Dory as her plus-one and it was still among the clutter on his nightstand. Manfred shook his head. Have some damned pride. Pull yourself together, you fool!
He stumbled over to his wash basin and splashed some cool water on his face, blinking a couple of times. There was a scratching at his door and Manfred padded over to open it. "Kurbis," he purred, and so did his cat. "Who's a big sucky pumpkin?" The large orange ragamuffin rubbed up against his leg, enjoying some scritches, before flopping onto his side and letting out a soft, "mrrrt." Manfred knelt and simply petted his cat for a little while, letting the time pass, just making some other living thing happy. I'm sorry your master is such a loser, little one, he thought. He could feel the ghost of some energy, some determination, trickle into your veins. I will try harder, he attempted to convince himself. I will do better.
So Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau picked himself up off of the ground, cleaned himself up, and dressed in his very finest clothes. He'd been born the second son of a Markgraf, after all. He could be that for a few hours, for Dory, for her friend Ayla and, maybe, truly for himself.
Jocasta It hadn't bothered Jocasta in the past. So many times, she'd worn a mask, literal or figurative. She'd always been what she'd needed to be... for others, and perhaps that was the problem. It had never been for herself, not until a few weeks ago, when she had returned to the Refuge. There, she could live for herself and not have a growing list of obligations. She cared for people, not for the responsibilities that they brought.
Sitting up in bed, she yawned and stretched, rolling her neck a couple of times. The morning warmth of Inner Torragon leeched in through the stone and the windows of San Agustin de las Arenas. There were some days when she stayed, but she didn't for most. It had also been a solid week since she had taken in some of a white aberration and, once again found herself greeted by the blessed lack of pins and needles at her sensation line. "Oh, blessed day," she breathed, calling upon the Gift to bypass most of the drudgery of waking, dressing, and general movement. Within five minutes, she was outside, on the terrace, letting the desert sun warm her and enjoying a cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice from Gran Naranja. Five more, and she was back in her room in Ersand'Enise.
Somebody was knocking. No sooner has Jocasta's wheels settled upon the floor, then there came a second knock, or perhaps it was well into the sequence. She raced to the door, taking the briefest of moments to collect herself before opening it. She looked out upon an empty hallway, but a twist of her head revealed a messenger, striding away from her room. "Sir!" she called out, "Sir, I'm here. Sorry for my tardiness. I was still dressing."
He twisted and, upon seeing her, hurried at back as quickly as decorum would allow. "My apologies, milady. Had I known of your... condition, I -"
She held up her hand. "No need, for you did not, and it is no excuse. I should have at least called out. I accept them anyhow, in the spirit they were intended." The letter bore the seal of Arslan.
Ingrid Ingrid had been in her dorm running experiments on a wide variety of ores, minerals, ingots, stones, and all manner of things. She was carefully collecting data on things along the lines on density, heating, and cooling capabilities. And how they differ from other ores or refined metals from many different places. When suddenly there was a knock at her door. Eirik answered as Ingrid has been growing increasingly stressed and would rather her guard deal with people.
Eirik entered the room in the usual professional manner. He held a scroll to his side and opened it to read aloud to Ingrid. He rolled up the scroll and handed it to Ingrid
Ingrid grabbed it with some haste out of his hand, almost believing this to be a joke. A face of surprise and worry came over her face, "I really am being invited to the Mansion of a Thousand Windows…" her voice trailing off, seemingly already calculating the risks of going
Eirik disrupted Ingrid's thoughts by plainly stating, "Seems like your friend wants you to come to a party her family is hosting."
Ingrid shrugged like she was still indecisive, "But what would other Eskandish people say if I went to that party, and I made a muck of it then it would hurt Ayla's standing. And-"
Eirik raised his voice to overtake the conversation, "I'm sure she is well aware of the potential risks of inviting you. But she did. So go. Do not disappoint the little friends you have."
Eirik had taken advantage that Ingrid values his opinions and it worked to get Ingrid to agree to it. "Fine, I'll go for Ayla."
With that, the preparations for the event were underway. Ingrid practised a few things she believed could happen during the event. Practising her verbal sparring with the ever-sharp tongue of Ragnhild who knew way too much about Ingrid. Those spars with her almost left Ingrid in tears a few times. The dress she wore was a repurposed one that she would wear on a date but had been put in the closet since then. Ingrid kept it light on jewellery to not gather too much attention, her dress and other adornments should keep it enough. No glasses either as they usually detract from her when she is all dressed up as her mother said. And she wore some small hells only because as Ragnhild and Åsa put it, your backside fills out a good bit more. Luckily Ingrid had been training for the better part of a few months so she has a light toning to her but not nearly as shredded as she needed to be for her Fingersteepler's costume. Lastly came makeup and that needed to be prepared in advance because although Ingrid was talented in touch ups, she was nowhere near the mastery of her maid.
Ingrid chose not to give a gift to the hostess for many reasons but the biggest was to hopefully show she was only there as of a friend's request. She didn't want to gather any unwanted attention to herself nor did she want to stand out as it wasn't even 2 weeks ago from when she went crazy and made quite a scene. Ingrid still worried that her presence would lower Ayla's and her other guests standing. She can already imagine the partygoers talking behind her back to make themselves seem better the way they had done in Eskand. Sadly, the difference was Ingrid still felt brittle and not as capable of shrugging off their words. She didn't wish to bring anyone either for the same concern. "Everything will be okay as long as you keep to yourself," Ingrid repeated to herself in private a few times while preparing
Now for Ayla it was a different story for gifts. She had invited Ingrid although she had that big incident. Ingrid wanted to get her something reminiscent of when they first met. "I believed she played the flute so maybe a panpipe?" Ingrid said thinking out loud. She purchased a high-quality panpipe and prepared it to be Ayla's gift.
Trypano She read over the letter that had arrived. An invitation to a party hosted by Ayla's family. It struck her as strange at first but she did overhear Jocasta mention a party she was recommended to attend. Could this be it?
With a deep sigh she set down the letter and turned to her armoire, opening it and checking through to find a dress suitably fancy enough for the occasion. She was rarely invited out, even less frequently to noble dinner parties. One of the main benefits of never making friends was that she had much more free time to dedicate to her studies and research. As a result however she was quite unprepared for such an outing. Not financially mind you, she had dresses that were more than expensive enough to blend in at a party with the nobility. She was neither mentally nor emotionally prepared however. It was strange territory for her, stepping out of her bounds like so.
She dwelled over her uncertainty whilst she dressed for the occasion, cladding herself in a red dress which flared out at the hip, coming down in a rippling pattern reminiscent to the head of a rose. It held a modestly deep plunging neckline, something that was coming into fashion, as well as loose red sleeves with jewel-embroidered red trim and an accompanying ruby necklace for good measure. With that and only a tiny amount of makeup given how pale her complexion already was she looked back in the mirror, neither impressed nor underwhelmed with what she saw. It had always felt unnatural to her, the feel of fabric on her skin. Clothing's texture had always provoked a well disguised disgust in her, even though if she had her way she wouldn't need skin either for it too clung to her most uncomfortably.
Zarina ~“Dreaming on the stars on high~”
Zarina sang in her quarters with her voice barely echoing out of the entrance door she kept locked shut. A banquet was to be held by those of higher stature and proper preparations were in order and opportunities were to be seized. As of yet, she was barely presentable with a mere nightgown and nothing below. No, dress-up was for last. Right now, it was time to prepare her tribute. On the large centre table of her abode was a box she was specifically crafting for the occasion. A third of a metre in height and two thirds in width, the main focus was not the box itself but rather making it presentable.
“~That speak to me in secret sighs~”
She continued to hum the tune rather than singing as she focused on the paintjob she was giving it. Green and white with a particularly well-drawn variation of the Zeno Bucks on the left side of the lid. On the right was a colour scheme that differed strongly from it: Red and gold with a flower-like pattern that held far more details than the business logo. The symbol of the Fire Lily - The Symbol of Al-Nader. The whole box was coated with two layers of white to be sure there were no obvious imperfections, and then was made to dry with the aid of a little magic.
“~Could it be the sacred wind~” The offering was complete, next came the issue of dressing up. If she was invited, so was Ysilla, most likely, making dark clothes a no-go. White and gold, a marriage between Zeno Bucks and her Family’s colours while very much pulling a sneaky on her sister. The golden, embroidered patterns on her white dress contrasted with her not-so-pale skin and dark hair she brushed, straightened and tied. Her attire was overall far less layered than some other noble styles, even those in Virang, but they kept the flowiness that came with the size of these lavish getups. Not forgetting jewellery that rivalled her sister’s with a platinum Hexaic star hanging from her neck.
“~That’s calling me to now begin~”
The Arrival
Yalen Yalen's rented carriage dropped him off a short walk away from the outer gate. While the idea of walking a great distance no longer bothered him, he did not want to disrespect his friend by arriving late. After paying the driver his fee, the priest in training disembarked and smoothed the wrinkles out of his clothes. He was once again dressed in the ornate robes of the Dordian order, and while that alone might have sufficed for his status as a clergyman Yalen chose to add a little extra this for this event. Tucked under his collar was a silk stole, the long blue cloth decorated with ornamental gold trim and measuring seven feet long from end to end. Accompanying this piece was a maniple of similar appearance, which was wrapped around his left arm. Technically he was supposed to save this for when he completed his training, but he wanted to make a good impression for Ayla's sake.
One of the guards met Yalen halfway as he approached the gate of entry. The man bade him to halt with an armoured hand. "You stand before the residence of the King of Torragon. If you have no business here then please turn back sir. Otherwise, I shall now receive your invitation." The biro showed the guard the document from Duque Arslan. The soldier scrutinised the wax seal of the Arslan family rather closely, but he let Yalen pass without further harassment.
Dory Dory’s carriage wasn’t all too noble-like as she truly did not wish to stand out too much. The one thing that did stand out was the small crate of something that looked like berries in it carried along. The Feskan came out of the carriage with finesse that was unlike her. The girl wore a purple dyed dress with patterns of obvious Perrench influence sewed into it. The jewellery however was a different story, being of Feskan origin. Family heirlooms worn by the women of the Hohnstein house for generations. Her hair was no longer the somewhat messy curls but had been styled just for this occasion.
Dory clicked her tongue as the guard stopped her after showing the invitation. “Miss, what is inside this box?” “Only the finest Spratz for the highest of occasions!” Dory proclaimed proudly. The guard after looking somewhat conflicted let Dorothea through with her box.
Zarina Box ready, dress ready, horse primed: She was ready to go. Zaz would probably be the only one to travel without a carriage and opted to ride her trusted Riesco. Eager as ever to sniff out some treats, the young horse nearly stained the teen’s dress before it even had a chance to be shown off. With a gentle pat of his snout and a pacifying carrot, the Carmague Stallion was ready, and she trotted away. Unsurprisingly, she would arrive first due to the lack of extra preparation that came with a carriage. The whole way, she hummed.
“Miss Zarina Al-Nader …” Gee, not lady-like enough for you?
The Welcome
Zarina Riesco was trusted to one of the servants - And by trusted she meant giving a dirty look to the lad, making it clear any screw up could be dangerous. Azahara, the matriarch of the Arslans, greeted the guests. Zarina, poised for a proper greeting, raised the gift box as a humble offering to the Duquesa.
“Duquesa, es mi honor. Soy Zarina de la casa Al-Nader. Le pido que acepte este obsequio como una muestra de aprecio por usted excelencia. ” she kept her head down until the gift was accepted. Inside was a finely crafted Zeno Bucks marked ceramic pot, four large Zeno Bucks cups crafted at a higher quality than those commercialised, half a pound of top level Palapar coffee within a tightly closed leather bag, and a small set of homemade bambalounis. The others then came, and Zarina made herself comfortable. Mingling was no issue to her, even if she was rough around the edges compared to many others. First, though, she offered a proper bow to Maura and winked over at her upon barely overhearing what was exchanged with Ayla. But what truly caught her attention was a specific, overly long name.
“Ah, this must be the brother.” she called out whilst directing her attention to Manfred, sat comfortably on her seat with a glass of wine held between her major and ring fingers, stirred semi-frequently, “Wha-” she squinted over at Ysilla, “Nice- Uhh, friend you got there.” she tilted her head and gave the metallic creation a concerned stare.
Azahara looked upon the novel gift offered by the tall girl. She looks at what appeared to be a ceramic drinking set and bag of produce. The ceramic set bears a striking resemblance of the girl's portrait upon them. Azahara pauses as she tries to decide the meaning of the gift, between it being very vain, or if there was some message behind it. She quickly deducts the intent with the gaudy gesture, and the sales pitch behind the warm welcome. “Señorita Al-Nader, ¿acaso es usted comerciante y comerciante de café? - do you trade in coffee?”, indicating the gift offered towards her. “impresionado, ya está buscando oportunidades de patrocinio - you are seeking patronage?”
Once she was relieved of the burden of holding the box, either by the Duquesa or a nearby servant, Zarina would straighten her posture and knead her hands together before her abdomen, “No, Duquesa Arslan. Este es un regalo.” she nodded toward the box, “A gift from my humble enterprise, Zeno Bucks. And an offering from house Al-Nader to your grace.” she continued in avincian with a noticeable accent, “The finest of our ceramic wares, desserts for the occasion and coffee beans freshly roasted from Palapar.”
Azahara simply nods with a polite smile, “Entonces aceptaremos este regalo y no como si fuerais Thalakonas trayendo regalos - Then we accept this gift sincerely and not as if you were Thalakonian bearing gifts”, the latter offered mischievously as a nod to the famous fable as a show of humour. “mi hija y sus amigas están sentadas en la esquina'' as she motions her hands towards prepared table in the corner.
Yalen It was Yalen's turn to enter the hall right behind Zarina. It would be a lie to say that he was not feeling somewhat out of place here. As a priest he was basically allowed to navigate social circles as he pleased, but he was a country boy at heart. While he was well spoken and polite, he didn't know much about the deeper etiquette of high society, and it was possible he might offend someone. Yalen hid it well, but there were butterflies in his stomach as he addressed Duquesa Azahara.
"Your Grace, thank you for allowing me to attend this banquet.” Yalen bowed at the waist until his head was nearly parallel to the floor. The duchess motioned for him to stand at ease.
"Thank you for your attendance Brother Castel." Lady Azahara spoke in a measured tone. "I understand that you suffer from a particular... condition. I am quite familiar with it. If you require any assistance you may ask one of the servants."
"I appreciate your concern madam.” Yalen once again showed his deference by bowing his head. He parted ways with the lady and allowed Ayla to show him to his seat at one of the banquet tables. Zarina was already at her seat, and the others slowly trickled in as their names were called by the crier. When the unfamiliar tethered girl joined the party as well, he made no comment at Ayla's embarrassing display of waterworks.
"Well met Maura, I am Yalen Castel. As a friend of a friend, I hope you'll treat me well.”
Maura smiles with some warmth as the priest boy welcomes her, extending her hand for it to be taken in greeting. “You must be our moral compass for this evening. It is good to know we are in good… and strong hands, Brother Castel.” She feels the strength when they touch, he must be the keeper of an impressive library.
Dory Dory truly disliked these opulent festivities, rather spending this time at a beer hall. All of this reminds her of the meetings with the other Graf houses… especially those slimy Benraths… But nevertheless she could not back out now, it was for Ayla after all.
“Ta gráce, I thank you for inviting me to this joyous occasion.” Dorothea bowed towards the duchess.
“And I thank you for attending, Lady Hohnstein.” The Duchess replied. “Please enjoy this lovely Banquet.”
“I am certain a banquet like this will be enjoyable.” Once again showing respect towards the woman she thought was the hostess.The Feskan took a seat among her fellow students as she noticed an unfamiliar face sit with them. She soon smiled at the sight of the reunion, thinking how Karl has been doing these months. leaning in towards the Arslan's ear.
“Care if I take a moment of your time?”
Ayla smiled widely as Dory asked for her attention, moving to grab upon her hands, though seeing them occupied by a strange box. “You do look beautifully dressed up today, Dory. Manfred must be jealous of you being like this around all the boys.” She gives a giggle as her hands are placed over the girls in greeting as they hold upon the box together. “Did not realise that in Feska you adopted Perrench style dresses, always imagined to be more Drudguzean.”
Returning to the original question: “Oh, yes, you can have a moment of my time.”
Dory looked away with a rather troubled look. "Well, usually they do not... My mother didn't want me to have too much Feskan clothing..." The Feskan clicked her tongue.
Her mind quickly tried to go back on the original question. touching the other's hand softly as they both held the box, leaning in towards the other once again. "Oh, right. Is-" Ayla could hear the hesitance in Dory's voice as she halted her words for a second. "Are you feeling okay?... These festivities might look grand but usually have something else with them." Another pause as she tried to think of a better way to say it. "If there is something I can do, please tell me..." Dory let go of the box, leaving it to Ayla to open it.
Ayla looks down at surprise as Dory seems to have discretely left her holding the box in her hands. She blinks for a moment as if to suggest there had been some type of error, but realises it is a gift for her. Her curiosity does get the better of her as she lifts up the lid to take a peek inside, giving a gasp then putting her arms around to embrace her in a hug. “You spoiled me too much, Dorothea, going to cherish your gift later.” She raises her eyebrows towards Maura as if having some major to share, the other girl returns with a puzzled look of curiosity.
After the embrace with Dory, it seemed to have been good timing as Manfred turned up to reclaim his girlfriend, taking her hands and addressing her as “My love”. Ayla smiles warmly towards Manfred, “Good for you to have made it, been hoping to speak less to you less formally outside of our classes.” She politely makes her departure to allow the both of them to have a moment more private together.
Kaspar Kaspar chose his outfit carefully, bearing in mind that it would reflect on Ayla as much as on himself. Despite his inner conflict with his noble standing and family name, the boy would do everything in his power to impress her family, for her sake. Willa had spent much of her time in his chambers helping him select the pieces and drilling basic etiquette into his mind, very much falling into the familiar role as his tutor.
His doublet was a deep red, darker than drying blood and embroidered with thick golden threads. It was well-fitted but the silhouette narrowed his waist and broadened his shoulders, a V of fabric cutting downward beneath his waist. It lacked a high collar, instead drifting below his throat to frame the subtle edges of his collarbones and his smooth golden necklace. The sleeves tapered against his elbows, heavy brocade ending where a thinner linen of the same hue wrapped tightly against the forearms, threaded buttons lined and secured, a bare hint of a gap revealing black-dyed silk lining. Gold gleamed from his fingers, all four rings situated against his pale skin.
The breeches were closer-cut than standard fashion but still flared a bit before tightening and ending at the knee. The fabric was of the same black satin that lined his doublet, and blended smoothly into the dark stockings. His heeled shoes, shorter against his ankles than Kaspar was normally comfortable with, were of dark red-stained leather with brighter red rosettes that matched his eyes and cloak.
The cloak was hemmed in white mink fur that also lined the underside, brightly contrasted against his darker attire. The cloth, a brighter red so close to that of his eyes that it seemed near identical, was intercut with thin, intricate embroidery of white-gold thread that gleamed as the light hit it, confirming it to be metal-woven. The collar rose high, wrapping the back of his neck and leaving an inch or so gap from his skin to the fur, settling slightly below his jawline. Two brooches of gold with inlaid rubies held a golden chain in place as it secured just beneath the neck of his doublet. At a closer look, one could see gold within the center of the rubies, magically crafted and fully encased, displaying the Storm-and-Stream crest of the Elstrøm family.
The Manson de las Mil Ventanas was indeed a spectacular sight, and Kaspar viewed it with a stoic eye. Willa had made sure to impress upon him the art of admiring without awe; allow the respect for impressive architecture, without making yourself seem susceptible to shows of wealth. Politics are mind games, that much he knew.
His entrance was made shortly behind Yalen, and Kaspar walked with a confident cadence, spine straight and gaze level. His expression was notably unaffected, showcasing the distant, unemotional facet the boy was well-known for—and which would be a great asset at court.
Stopping in front of Azahara Arslan, he bowed with one arm stiff across his torso. “Thank you for the invitation to this event, Your Grace.” His voice was perhaps a touch stiffer than necessary, but Lady Azahara responded nevertheless.
“Thank you for your attendance, Lord Elstrøm.” As Kaspar straightened out of the bow she continued, “Please enjoy the festivities.”
He walked further into the room, ill at ease in such a scenario. Kaspar has little experience with social events, having inherited a reputation for being sickly from the boy now known as Felix. Much of his etiquette training had come within the past year, in expectation of his attendance to an academy for the Gift.
He was grateful to see a table arranged for those who were guests of Ayla, selecting a seat near those he was most familiar with. He listened to Ayla’s breakdown of the room and events, mulling over in his mind if he should try to approach any contacts. Perhaps not—the boy was not socially graced, and still felt distinctly uncertain of his future.
Seeing Ayla’s reaction to Maura, a smile slipped onto the nobleman’s face. As Ayla introduced her to those seated, he dipped his head politely, following Yalen’s lead and trying to exude some of the same warmth the priest had. “Well met. You may call me Kaspar; I look forward to your presence at our table.”
As Ayla introduces Maura to Kaspar, it wasn’t long till art was being brought up. Maura looks upon the boys hands for a telltale mark of charcoal, tugging upon Ayla’s sleeve to draw attention to it. “Looks like he is just like someone we know”, she looks up to give a knowing warm smile and wink towards Ayla. Ayla has her eyes widened for a moment, “Don’t you think we embarrassed ourselves already without you recounting that story?”, “it is we now and not you have?” came the teasing reply. After a few hush tones between the girls, Maura turns to address the question, “Thank you, Lord Elstrøm. It is good to find someone as well dressed as yourself in attendance. Red and Gold are my favourite colours.”
Manfred "Lord Manfred Hohenfelter of Meckelin-Thandau, son of Markgraf Heinrich Hohenfelter of Meckelin-Thandau and warden of Schulitz, Kolmsburg, and Mandelein."
He swept into the room, the perfect young prince: confident, finely dressed, and having arrived in a private carriage, attended to by his 'servants'. He had read the works of that Revidian, Oravaggio, and found some worth in them, whether or not they were actually satire. "Your Grace." He inclined his head respectfully in Lady Arslan's direction. "It is an honour." Manfred managed a polite smile that held just the right amount of warmth to it, and his eyes swept the room. "And I would be remiss if I did not apologise for my tardiness. An urgent matter that I could not be away from came up." Yes, he thought. Kurbis urgently needed pettins. "Please take this small gift as a token of my regret." He motioned imperiously with one hand and a servant girl - really, his washerwoman on extra pay - came up beside and behind him with a platter of Kerreman desserts that she uncovered as she bowed.
It worked the trick. Manfred's eyes settled on his hostess, a couple of tethered girls, and - most importantly - Dorothea. He has not been a very good companion to her, and it was very much time to amend that. He greeted his true hostess politely, made introductions with the others, and settled in beside Dory. "My love," he said, taking hold of her hand.
"And if you'd like I will try and bake anything you want whenever we both have the free time." She couldn't help but smile as her friend was happy with her gift.
And with that she felt a sudden touch on her hand as it was held by rough hands. "Ah, Lord Hohenfelter. What a delight to see that you could make it." She tried to be as polite as possible to confuse Kerreman a little. Closing in for a hug as it has truly been a while since they saw each other, whispering into the other's ear. "I am truly glad the invitation found it's way to you. I would have send it myself but getting all this together was a lot harder than I first imagined." Leaning back, inspecting his attire. The Feskan couldn't help but grin. "Never thought you were the type to dress this finely."
You're being passive-aggressive, Manfred thought, but he'd been wallowing lately, not there when they both could have used the other for support, and so he opted to nip it in the bud instead of responding in kind. He followed up on her concluding observation. "That, dearest, is because I am not," he replied almost impishly. "And neither are you." He leaned in close, catching a whiff of her perfume. "You smell like gardenias," he whispered, "lovely like the girl wearing them, but I know you'd rather be in a bierhalle right now wearing a dirndl. We should dance, my love, and teach these stuffy Torragoniese how to have some fun."
"Oh, baise toi." She whispered back before realising she was using the wrong tongue. "I am not against showing them what fun is, however I am here as a friend of Ayla and I do not wish to shame her for my actions.." The Feskan looked with her old determined look, pinching his side with a smirk. "And that is for saying that to me when I tried so hard to be fancy today, Arschloch." A little chuckle escaped the girl as she gripped firmly into Manfred's hand.
Manfred's only reaction was a slight grimace, but he smiled right through it, pulling Dorothea to her feet. "You tried" he teased, "and you look almost as good as me, my little schnucki. That is a hard thing for anyone to do. Now come," he concluded. "A little dancing to the quartet over there won't embarrass our host and, if it does, she isn't much of a host anyhow."
Dorothea completely lost her composure after the you tried tease, breaking out her more boorish speech. "Almost as good as you? Did you forget how to speak to a lady? But I can't deny that you finally took some effort into your appearance, my Schatz." She was still a little taken aback by his eagerness to dance, perhaps just because it's been quite a while for the two of them. "A dance really would not hurt but I have lost my touch with the more formal dances over time, care to show me the ropes?"
"Au contraire, mon cœur," Manfred responded in Perrench, "I never knew how in the first place." He winked. Leading her over close to where the chamber quartet was playing, he nodded and smiled in the bandmaster's direction and the music started to transition to something just slightly more upbeat but still respectable enough. The dancing in earnest would only begin after the dinner, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to get warmed up before the hostess called them all. Manfred spun Dory around and took hold of her other hand as well. "Just do what I do," he whispered. "This dance is a simple one: a mirror dance."
"Then perhaps I should teach you that." She let out a rather smug grin as she was lead. As the music became more upbeat, so did her and Manfred's attitude. A soft gasp could be heard from the Feskan as she was spun around by the Kerreman, smiling moments after. "Then I will follow your lead here as well."
Then, he heard an unexpected name. He was midway through his steps and, to his chagrin, broke them. "Lady Marceline Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau." She's taken the family name!? Then, Nina made a fool of herself and his heart dropped. He glanced concernedly at Dory and held a hand up for them to stop dancing.
Dorothea felt a chill down her neck as she heard that name combined with the silence. It was a chilling scene, the poor girl. Then, the sight on Manfred's face only made her concerned too. "Your family?..." She tried to show a caring face. "Should we help her out?"
Jocasta Jocasta had managed that bare display of independence which she was generally allowed, despite everybody wishing to 'help' the 'poor invalid'. She had floated herself up the stairs, wheeled-chair and all, and now swept through the doors. "Lady Jocasta Re," the crier announced, and she flashed him a quick smile of gratitude. People in such jobs were so often asked to perform and so rarely thanked for it. She wheeled forward into a large open hall, for this house of a king was unabashedly opulent, and came upon Ayla's mother. "Lady Azahara," she greeted the woman, who looked uncannily like an older version of her daughter. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I hold Lady Ayla as one of my dearest friends and I now see where she has gotten her hospitality from."
It seemed to have sufficed. truth be told, she didn't entirely have a read on the Torragonese duchess yet, nor many of the people in this room, but one immediately caught her eye, aside from the familiar faces of Yalen, Zarina, Kaspar, and Ayla herself. There was another tethered: another 'on two'. It was a thing that one inevitably did in a world of bipeds. Their eyes met momentarily and Jocasta flashed a smile.
As Azahara thanked Jocasta for her pleasantries, though she cannot help smiling as her eyes move towards the side of the room, as if there is something, a thought that may have bemused her momentarily. “It does not come as a surprise to me.”
As Maura comes to the table and is hastily introduced to the others, she cannot help but notice the warm smile in her direction. She moves closer towards Jocasta, using the opportunity to speak to the other shy girl. “Are you Lady Re? The Duquesa has said you have been looking after Ayla for me.” her gentle smile attempting to cover the slight mischievous tone of her statement. “It is good that she is making friends. Been beset with worry about her, especially as she left without saying a word.”
It had been a polite gesture. When one ran into another tethered, it was all but certain that mutual recognition would be exchanged and, often, words. It was rare to find someone who understood an aspect of your life that almost nobody else did, who'd been shaped by at least one similar and very rare experience. There was a moment where both paused, hands on wheels as if to say, "am I coming over there, or are you?" Then, the other girl made the first move, introductions happened, and they were talking.
"Not sure about the 'lady' part," Jocasta snorted, "but Ayla and I have had a few interesting times together." There was an instinct that pushed her to go back to the way that she had been - the character she'd played for the past few years, but she resisted it. The tethered couldn't help but seize upon the last bit of Maura's sentence, however, for it seemed so unlike Ayla. "Left without saying a word?" She tilted her head to one side.
Maura blushed lightly, “Forgive me, not as ominous as that sounds.” She composed herself, especially as Ayla is distracted by the others, allowing the pair to talk more privately, “Her father thought to place her under house arrest, prior to sending her here. A joke as you probably gathered, she isn’t the most adventurous type. More likely to be found with dessert than the desert.” She forms a wide smile, imagining Ayla asking where the churros grew out in the desert.
“Had a surreal experience this morning though. Went to the admissions office to inquire about enrolment at the academy, and initially they treated me as if royalty when they saw me roll in and said about being from Torragon.” Her voice rang with pleasant surprise as it chirped from the events, she fidgeted a moment in her seat as it came with a characteristic ‘buttttt’ expression, “Their faces dropped when there had been a misunderstanding and was ushered out rather quickly…” she rolled her eyes a moment.
She looks down then smiles a little, as if looking like she entertained saying quite a number of things in the moment of her own quietness. “So… Jocasta? Jo? How did you end up with Ayla.”
Jocasta, thought... Jocasta. This girl seemed pleasant enough, though possessed of the same annoying verbal tic as Ayla, and there was always a shared kinship with fellow tethered. Yet, the Djamantese still had her secrets; they were many and deadly. It would not do to get too close to people whom she knew nothing about. Just because your legs are gimpy, doesn't make you a good-faith actor, Jocasta self-warned. If anything, she herself had long been the poster child for that. "Oh, she and I had a little adventure in the desert, ironically," she replied with a smirk. Unbidden, she found her voice dipping. "at a refuge for people like... us." The tethered eyes flashed for a moment. "Stairs to climb and doors closed in our faces are all part of the fun, as it sounds like you've just been reminded, but we were able to make things a little better." She shrugged, "so that's something."
Maura blinked in astonishment as Jocasta spoke about her and Ayla spending time in the Desert. Was the girl trying to test her in some way, or trying to prove some kind of point that she was somehow the better friend. Jealousy? She continued to listen as she brought her hands together, as the fingers interlocked. It got even more surprising when they suggested they were at a refuge together, but those are for the tethered… Ayla is actually tethered? Maura moves her eyes to look across to look towards Ayla happily talking to her other friends as nothing is amiss. It does make some kind of sense, Ayla has always been physically weak and there were always rumours and days she had to stay inside. Perhaps coming to the academy was a cover for the house arrest, if the Duque sent her to the refuge… perhaps that is why the admission staff were so confused. She holds upon her hands tightly, her eyes looking sad as she looks down towards them. “She never told me she was tethered… there were the rumours, but you know how they can be…” she breaks her hands to grab a napkin, to dab at her eyes, “Perhaps that is why she always looked out for me, she was always thinking she would be in this position herself.” She moves her hands upon Jocasta’s own, “Promise to take care of her. She is so innocent at heart.”
Jocasta merely blinked. Either this girl was messing with her or something about baking in the Torragonese sun all day really did strip people of some intelligence. For the sake of having even a shred of respect for Maura, she decided that it must be the former. "Ha!" she laughed. "Haha, you almost had me there for a second." She rolled her eyes. "Oraff knows she's a jellyfish, though, and I don't get paid enough to be her nursemaid. We should put her through her paces."
Maura seems to just grow more perplexed. Is this person trying to make a fool out of her with the whole tethered thing? She was conned so easily by such a simple ruse, too trusting of someone who claims to be one of Ayla’s dearest friends. Mocked for being deceived so easily, that it had to be a joke. The nerve of this one. “Your ruse about the refuge was a nice touch.” she sits there with that polite smile, as she looks towards the blonde, simply nodding as she discusses putting her through her paces. “It does seem Ayla has her work cut out for her here.”
Jocasta stopped and visibly shook her head to clear it. "Wait up, hold on a moment. Let's just reel this one back in." Truth be told, she was annoyed and she had spotted Augusto not so far away. Zarina was about as well, and Kaspar. It occurred to her that she could just tweak Maura's mood or perceptions a little bit and be done, but she'd been trying not to do things like that. Caring what people thought of her was much easier when she was only pretending to do it while playing a role. "Ayla didn't tell you that we were sent by the school to a refuge in Torragon?" She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Shune, she's such an airhead sometimes. Also, come on." She reached down and slapped the tops of her thighs and gestured at Maura's. Her expression said the rest.
Maura seemed to look towards Jocasta incredulously as the situation was reeled in again. She did consider for a moment that maybe Ayla did have a tendency for an overly welcoming and emotional greeting, but she thought it was a given they haven’t conversed for some time, and it appears there was plenty to converse about. Ayla running off to refuges and deserts in Torragon when she was meant to be in class did sound very far fetched, it would be around a 4 week round trip at least by boat minimum, as a starting point, significantly greater if they were to cross to a river boat, sail up the Merapor River, then join a trade caravan to head to St Austin. It had only been over a month since Ayla first attended the school.
Maura could only blink, as she saw Jocasta’s motions and tilted her head, “Tethered?”
What was there to not understand? Had this stupid girl spent her entire life in a bubble or was she just getting her figurative kicks by playing this obtuse? Had not Ayla written to her supposed best friend at least once over the past month and a half about the wonders of Ersand'Enise? About how time itself had been paused on the very first day? About the Aberrations? The Forked Tower? Any of it? How did she seem so 'confused'?
Jocasta found her blood boiling as she looked at the pleasant, perplexed little face before her. Eshi, I wanna punch you, she thought, smiling agreeably back, brittle as it was. The thought occurred to her that this might be more Ayla's fault, but she was not about to indulge it, for friends, at least, were sacrosanct to a degree.
Without warning, she reached out and took Maura's hands, simultaneously grabbing the threads of time and space. Things froze: Manfred in the middle of hesitating in his dance with Dorothea, Marci being awkwardly introduced by Zarina, all manner of interactions, even Augusto's 'conversation' with Trypano, though he was not frozen and glanced her way wearily. "Do make it quick," he sighed. "Do cover for me?" she replied.
Then, two young women in wheelchairs appeared in the middle of the Dune Sea, on a plateau overlooking the refuge of St. Agustin de las Arenas. A hot, dusty wind swirled their hair as Jocasta released the other and backed up a few pushes. "Now, you were either being obtuse," she began, "trying to get your kicks out of me for some reason, or you really didn't know, in which case, sorry, and I need to have a conversation with Ayla about sharing a little better with her friends. Now, what is it?" she asked, voice slipping from too-sweet to flat. She studied Maura intently.
The walls around Maura seem to fall down around her as it is replaced by the sights of the Torragonese desert. The hot air blasting her unexpectedly as she physically jumps in her seat in the total shock of the experience. “Azúcar, miel y té helado. Hija de un escrupuloso recaudador de impuestos!” she swears out loud as she takes in the scenery around her. “Donde estamos nosotras”, takes a moment to calm down and settle, as the realisation of what Jocasta was trying to say turned into reality, a very confusing one where someone turned the world upside down for a good few moments and tried to shake out its contents.
Maura blinked for a moment as she listened to the question, “Of course one would be obtuse, no one expects the man from the docks claiming to be visited by little grey men from Yazan to be telling the truth… Do you know the implications of this? The ability to cross vast distances in a heartbeat…” she takes hold of Jocasta’s hands, squeezes upon them tightly. “You use this, and we can make some serious money. A partnership will cover the accounting, inventory, and stock, and you can deliver it with this ability.” As the excitement calmed down a tad, she expanded, “Not seen or heard of Ayla since we last met in Torragon. She doesn’t usually greet me that passionately… often.”
"We are in the desert of Inner Torragon," replied Jocasta to the other's rapid Torragonese. "I thought it best to simply show you, lest we continue being vexed by each other."
Jocasta set hands to wheels, turning to regard the refuge in the distance. "That is San Agustin de las Arenas," she announced, "the refuge where I grew up." She gestured in its direction. "It wasn't me who brought us here." Her eyes found Maura again. "It was the paradigm himself, if you'd believe it. We sure didn't at first. Well," she corrected, "most of us. The problem is that the Arch-Zenos and the Zenith keep knowledge of this kind of magic - Temporal magic under lock and key. It's slipped out in a few places and I'm one of those, but I can't be too brazen in its use or..." she trailed off and shrugged, leaving the rest implied. "Trust me, I'd be a rich woman otherwise."
Maura pondered the words as she looked upon the sands. She was dressed far too warm and was starting to heat up, but she did have an idea. “Temporal… that is a fancy word for time? So does this allow you to move both distance and time.” She looks towards Jocasta, and it can be seen that the grinders are turning in the girls’ head. “Does that mean we could visit Ayla during her house arrest, prior to arriving at the academy? Perhaps we could go and cheer her up before she gets sad!”
"She didn't strike me as 'sad'," Jocasta replied, still trying to get the measure of Maura, "but you know her better than I do and it was at least a few weeks into the term when I met her." She took a moment to sweep some hair from her face. It was decidedly windy out here. "Thing is, if we go back in time and change one thing, then what else would it change? I wanna help a friend out, but it's not without risk, you know..."
Maura did have this whole idea of visiting Ayla back at home, and cheerleading her to the academy, though she did consider Jo’s words for a good moment. “You’re right, it was a silly idea. Might end up in where she never met you due to it, which means we would not meet, then we wouldn’t go back in the first place…” The rabbit hole of temporal paradoxes begins in her mind, as she considers digging her nose into it, then running away screaming. “That’s too much thinking for one evening.”
"It gets... pretty tangled," Jocasta admitted. "But that doesn't mean we can't do our best to fix matters in the present, hmm?" She paused halfway through turning. Jocasta had always been a pacer, for as long as she could remember, unable to sit still once an idea took her. The gradual paralysis that had crept its way up nearly to her waistline had necessitated a change in means as opposed to habit, but it was tiring and cumbersome and she would be imposing to force a fellow invalid to follow along. "Say, if you don't mind me asking," she began, "you're not tethered, are you?" Maura's chair looked heavier and more solid, not the light wicker sort that they gave out in refuges and that Jocasta had sworn by for the six years since. "I mean, if you'd rather not say anymore, I understand it, and we should probably head back soon anyways, but I'd be lying if I didn't confess to some curiosity. Most every other invalid I know is tethered." She wrinkled her nose. "In truth, I dislike the term as well. Smacks of dismissiveness."
Maura winkles her nose in return when those terms were being used, though smiles at the question, “One is often called and referred to as a Tethered, even when you don’t have the disease. We live in a world where most things can be fixed by a binder and a ‘can do’ attitude at some expense, and if you happen to be poor or incurable, sometimes simply being abandoned is your fate. One is what you see of them.” She points towards the incline running along the plateau “The reality is, It is all about perspective. What if we said no one was invalid.”
She takes a moment for Jocasta to process the hypothetical before explaining. “How does one define being invalid. Being unable to use the stairs? Does that mean if there are no stairs, one is now not disabled?'' She goes along with the incline for emphasis. “If the stairs were a ramp like this incline, we could travel up and down as well. One thinks, if we are defined by our environment like so, perhaps what is broken is not us, but the environment we live in. In the world around you, did Oraff create stairs, or did we create the stairs?” She points to a froabase pointing in the distance, both in amazement at its splendour, but also to make another point, “There we have a dragon flying. Are we invalids to the dragon, because we cannot soar through the air on our wings? To it, that is normal, therefore we as humans must be broken.” “Some of us have crossed the twin-continents in the blink of an eye and a sassy attitude, does that make the ones who cannot invalid?” She couldn’t resist the tease, but wanted it to make the point, “It is perspective. You are not an invalid Jocasta. You are an amazing friend of a friend.”
In truth, Jocasta wasn't quite sure how to feel. She fell somewhere between being impressed by a good point and rolling her eyes. Nature didn't have stairs. It had mud and crags; roots, rocks, and steep inclines. A froabas was built to have wings that it could fly with. Humans were built to have legs that they could walk with. It was nice to think of a different world, though.
The temporal pressure was building, however. Augusto had been nice enough to cover for her. He was an intriguing one. She couldn't take advantage of his generosity any further, though. "An interesting thing to consider," she replied noncommittally, flashing a quick smile. Maura bore watching, for better or for worse. "Come now, take my hands! We should be back!"
When their world swirled and Jocasta returned, she took a moment to brush the dust from herself and recommended her acquaintance do the same. Augusto shot her a smirk and an eyeroll and the two girls returned to their places. It was little more than a minute later when the bell for dinner rang and, proper young lady that she was, Jocasta went through her paces.
Maura took those hands and ended up back where they started, without much notice of their disappearance. She took the opportunity to brush herself down as she cannot help but notice the direction Jo appeared to be looking towards, smiling politely towards the other with that knowing gaze.
She continued to converse with Jo for those last moments in a hushed tone before focusing attention upon the food. Afterall spending a good few moments in the desert makes one parched rather quickly. “Your skill will become very handy when we travel to Djamant. We need to remain in touch.”
Ingrid Ingrid had been anxious the night before but was able to go to sleep without the chemical helper known as ethanol. It took her maybe 2 hours to get ready before she even got into the carriage to take her to the party. She took some medicine beforehand to help dull her nerves before entering the party.
As Ingrid arrived the guards checked her invitation to make sure it was real and they let her in. Her height had made them specifically nervous as with how long her legs she could have easily stashed a weapon on her. But much to their surprise the Eskandish Amazonian said she bore no weapon, not even a focus. Many guards watched her enter and some checked with magnetism to see if anything registered and nothing did.
When it was time for Ingrid to greet the host of this fine banquet she went through the normal routine that noble so to greet each other. Thanks and pleasantries, all serving merely as a way to enter the party. She made her way to her table to sit and watch the event for a time to get a sense of what she should be doing. She isn't deeply tied with Torragon so she has only a rudimentary understanding of the nobility there. 'When in unfamiliar waters it is best to keep calm and play it safe' was what came to Ingrid's mind.
Ingrid was still nervous even with the assistance of the supposed inhibitor she had taken. I probably bought the wares of some fake alchemist. It was worth a shot though, I'll just have to level out on my own, Ingrid thought as she chose to stay mainly silent. She wasn't being a mute but wasn't starting any conversations yet as she tried to feel a bit more comfortable with the party.
When Ingrid found a moment to grab Ayla's attention she spoke out, "Ayla," Ingrid said a slight bit louder to have Ayla focus on her, "I have prepared a gift for you. It isn't anything too grand but I would like you to have it. I remember at the speed dating event you played a very wonderful flute. As I assure you know, this is an Esknadish Panflute. It isn't terribly complicated but I thought you could have fun with this." Ingrid was a little bit anxious to give the gift but that mostly came from Ingrid hoping she liked it.
Ayla smiles widely as she comes to see Ingrid. She was pleasantly surprised her friend came, especially as she heard she got in an argument with Dory the other day after an incident with an aberration, but it seems both have patched things up since. “Ingrid! Glad you made it. Good to get you out of your room, we thought we were going to need an intervention.” She takes the girl by the hands, and squeezes upon them. As Ingrid presents the gift, Ayla’s eyes widen in surprise and with a gentle smile, accepting the pan-pipes. She took the little box as she gave a toot over the holes, similar to the flute, and soon was able to get a little tune out of them. Definitely gifted when it comes to sound. “Thank you Ingrid, this was sweet of you. Portable too, so able to carry around when bringing it to your homeland with me. Marly said to see a rural practice there called… Kulling? In your tongue.”
Ingrid had tried to hide a look of complete confusion. Culling? Ingrid questioned. She couldn't tell if the sweet girl in front wanted to help cull a herd during a particularly tough winter. Ingrid thought hard and suddenly it became clear. Ingrid hid a small chuckle under her hand, "Lady Ayla, a kulning is something we mainly use to call our herds over great distances. It is a unique sound and if you have never heard it I can perform it for you on a later date if you would like."
"And thank you," Ingrid said abruptly in a much less joyful tone, "Like you said as a joke I had been keeping to myself as of late and as nervous as I am I shouldn't be staying in my room all the time." Ingrid set her hands on Ayla's, lightly grasping them, "So thank you."
Ingrid thanked Ayla and Ayla went on her way. Ingrid didn't have much to do. Ayla was bouncing from person to person and Dory was with her boyfriend. Ingrid was also invited by a man named Augusto. And he was talking to Trypano... Should I try and make my way into the conversation? I guess I'll stay to the outside and hope either of them notice and pull me in. Ingrid stood and made her way to a position that they should be able to notice her. With some well placed eye contact, she shouldn't be standing there too long.
"It's tough being a third wheel, isn't it?" Yalen whispered to Ingrid from behind. He had left the table moments ago to relieve himself and was on his way back to his seat, when he noticed the tall Eskandish girl standing around awkwardly. He beamed an innocent smile at her, seemingly unaware of her desire to speak with Trypano and Augusto. When it came to the dynamics of human pair bonding he was the most inexperienced person in the room, so Ingrid's nonverbal signals to the others had gone completely unnoticed by him.
"I was happy to receive the invitation, but I'll admit I really have no business here. Networking is more Zarina's speed. Perhaps Ayla just wanted some emotional support... What about you, what brings you here?"
Trypano Stepping up to the door her heart was in her throat, even if she stood a head or so taller than most of the people around. She presented her letter which, after some scrutiny, was deemed valid. After a quick search they were able to confirm that she was in fact unarmed too at which point she was cleared for entry.
If ever there was someone who stood out like a sore thumb she was that someone. With a clearly set colour pallet of red and more red with white skin she stuck out like a fire on the surface of a lake. Though her face was cold and placid her posture was tight, tense one might even say. She took care to heed the customs and paid her respects to the matron of the family before taking her seat amongst the others, some she recognized more than others.
So, was this the meeting of minds Jocasta invited me to? If so I hope it's purpose becomes clearer with time She wondered to herself in quiet thought as she took her seat. From there she glanced about the room, taking in who else was present and keeping track of things as they occurred without yet directly involving herself. In truth Trypano had no clue how to open a conversation with someone else, she'd be at a loss for words. Hence she adopted the silent observers position for the time being, acting natural even though she was anything but.
Ayla saw the impressive girl in red, and a paleness that rivals that of Kaspar. She offers a far more formal greeting towards her, taking the woman by her hands. “Lady Somia, good that you were able to come.” she squeezes and breaks the gesture. “We know we only met briefly, it is good that you are willing to attend even though we are acquaintances. Hope you were able to get my message, Lord Frannemas should be in attendance somewhere this evening, he was asking me if there was an opportunity for a personal introduction? Perhaps you may remember him from the Desert as well.” She smiles up towards the girl, that look that is hiding some giggly excitement at the idea of her playing some kind of matchmaking role. “Good looks, Good breeding, Status, high RAS, Very wealthy…” she says more quietly and softly towards Trypano, as if trying to persuade her to have some interest in talking to him, though speaking louder “To compensate, please enjoy the delicious food on offer today and take advantage of any opportunities you may encounter”.
Augusto had been holding himself aloof, busy about the city and then in his chambers, but he emerged when introduced and it was nice to be fawned over a little bit less than usual. There were, around him, all three women that he'd asked Ayla to introduce him to, and Trypano Somia looked to be the only one not otherwise engaged. RAS 8.28, possibly higher now, exceptional physical specimen, binder or more likely blood mage, cold and analytical by nature, socially awkward. Poor girl would be impressive if she didn't look so lost
He strode up to the Revidian, a small fluted wine glass in each hand, and offered her one. "You don't have to drink the swill, but you'll look more natural with one on your person." He smiled faintly, knowingly. "You fairly radiate anxiety, but you'll find these events are not so difficult. Just get stuck into one good conversation and milk it." The Torragonese held out a hand. "Augusto Frannemas, surprisingly. I believe we were to meet here."
"I did receive your letter regarding his invitation as well. I do recall seeing him back in the desert as well, though we never spoke." She replied to Ayla's greeting. Just as she was starting to get her bearings in this setting, more or less, her younger host proceeded to put her off her rhythm once more with talk of Augusto's qualities in... a relationship? She certainly wasn't precisely aware of the nature of their invitation but the way Ayla was leaning into it started to give her a bad feeling about this.
Speaking of devils the man himself emerged as if summoned by the mere utterance of his name. Accepting the drink as a party accoutrement she heard his advice. Spoken from experience it would seem but getting stuck into a good conversation first requires a good conversation to get stuck into.
"Trypano Somia. I recall you had sent me an invitation to meet, yes." She shook his offered hand, maintaining a formal exterior to mask her uncertainty. "Typically I'm only invited out to discuss matters of academia or business."
"Important matters," he agreed, "but I've found that your successes in those matters will wither quickly on the vine without some social acumen as well." He flashed a quick and professional but reassuring smile. "For the sake of brevity, however, I won't beat around the bush. I'm supposed to marry at the behest of my parents and, when in Ersand, I'm expected to make an effort to court any respectable lady who's both of an age with me and possessed of a capacity above eight-point-two." He shrugged. "Personally, I find marriage a disagreeable institution, as it gets in the way of both romance and other pursuits. I'm far more interested in hearing more about these academic pursuits of yours. I've heard only whispers to this point."
"Indeed. As my brother often reminds me, work done for the sake of humanity means I am unable to cut them from the equation." She responded, noting his smile but unable to return one of her own as she was focused on maintaining poise and decorum, a curse for one who stood out as much as she.
"I gather then you're approaching me with such an offer given I meet their criteria?" She noted. "I do agree that such matters come with caveats that can impede one's professional and personal life pursuits. As for my academic pursuits..." She adjusted her grip on the wine glass, snaking the stem between her index and ring finger as she held it off to one side.
"My main study is biology. I am looking to answer a question that has gone relatively unexplored aside from a few select minds throughout our past, the question being "What is Mana?"" Trypano took a step aside, blocking less of the room with her form as she stood perpendicularly from him to keep both him and most of the room's occupants in view.
"Given how important such a thing is to casters far and wide it's remarkable how little yet remains known of it. Just as all of our flesh ultimately breaks down into core elements which further break down into pure magical energy I suspect mana too must be composed from several core elements. Should I be able to decipher the exact nature of mana's form then from there I could start to see what elements in the blood draw the most mana. While I understand that many noble houses specifically breed for high RAS quantities in their children it is still an imprecise art, still well and far from the perfect science it could be."
"Sounds an ambitious plan," Augusto replied, "though mostly in regards to finding the right equipment and a starting line. Hard to build a tower without knowing what sort of foundation to lay, and other such idioms and metaphors." He sipped his wine.
"I will admit that I'm not much of a scientist. I only study magic, and the most practical aspects of it." He shrugged. "But it's an intriguing mystery. We could unlock much more, but then..." his eyes narrowed momentarily, perhaps indicating that he had sunk his teeth into something of interest, "does that devalue magic by removing its scarcity?" He had noticed a second unusually tall woman sliding in close to them and presumed that she might be Ingrid Penderson. Before she could join their conversation, however, she was accosted by an enthusiastic priest that Augusto recognized immediately as Yalen Castel: a man with whom he had vanishingly little in common, but a good man nonetheless. She appeared to want little to do with him.
"Ah, brother Castel!" Augusto greeted him cheerfully, "So sorry to cut your conversation short, but I was just about to ask Miss Somia here a question that occurred to me, and I thought that you might bring an interesting perspective to the matter as a man of the cloth." He nodded in Ingrid's direction as well. "Lady Penderson. Now, the notion is this: if we humans and yasoi, by virtue of our ingenuity and scientific discovery, should find a way to imbue all people with a high degree of magic capacity, is that necessarily a good thing? Should the Gift be widely available? Can all people be trusted to use it or only those whom the Gods have seen fit to bestow it upon from birth?”
Upon mention of her research's threat to scarcity her eyes sharpened. It was not a threatening look but rather she now had something to sink her teeth into. His subtle pushback bled out into a general debate aimed at both her and two others who had gravitated to their group. At this point it was time to rebuke this devil's advocate.
"Did the advent of the sword devalue the club?" Her point was made in general but her focus remained on him. "Many would say yes. Diehard upholders of the club disagreed but you don't see anyone modernly siding with classic club values over the rise of firearms and the ever-advancing exploration of magic's limits."
She now had her right hand behind her back, the other hand still holding the wine glass, tracing circles along the surface with her long red painted thumbnail.
"Any advancement to society comes with it's fair share of risk. It is always reasonable to assume that a percentage of people will abuse what they are allowed to have as it is human nature. We could decry that the discovery of fire was when humanity overstepped it's bounds, challenging the gods by banding together and forming tribes, crafting weapons of stone and wood before laying traps to hunt great beasts with the primitive tools that would become the ancestors of all weapons." Taking her free hand out from behind her back she gestured to the room at large in all it's opulence.
"This age of peace and erudition was bought with the sweat and blood of those who dared to dream of creating a better world for their fellow men and women alike. The very academy halls we walk we only walk because those with knowledge saw it fit to share that knowledge with others. Knowledge and it's proliferation across the modern world is what allowed us to rise up from the era where all but a few warlords wallowed in dirt suffering through disease and famine while the few gifted saw their talents cut short in endless conflict, the force and fury of powerful casters clashing with one another like territorial dragons waging brutal combat." She stopped to hear Ingrid's take on the philosophical quandary posed. She couldn't help but smirk, turning her focus to her.
"You claim those with high RAS would lead to catastrophe even though close to everyone Augusto invited to speak with him meets that condition, hm?" She cocked an eyebrow to accompany a wry smile. "I could make the case that even with as few mages that occur now as there are the risks of one reaching such powerful heights and dabbling with forces that present an existential threat to sapient-kind as we know it is not only likely, it's already happening."
Perhaps this was oversharing. Cased in the frame of a hypothetical she could play it off as a manner of speaking but she needed to be careful with what else she mentioned. Perhaps it was time to throw off the scent a little. A careful dance of words indeed.
"You recall the aberration that appeared, yes?" She left the rhetorical question open ended, letting Ingrid fill in the blanks. "You do also know that they are the result of improper tampering with the temporal fabric of reality. While ordinarily they are to be avoided or reported to the nearest authority on such magic, if they present a risk of being absorbed by less even-tempered parties then sometimes one must take containment into their own hands." While not specifically broadcasting this information she left the description vague enough not to purposefully out Ingrid's recent behaviour. Instead she turned the focus of her argument back over to Augusto.
"Even a 6.0 could, if inclined, abuse what knowledge they may possess on such magics and commit irreparable damage to this reality. What matters is not whether or not more people has access to magic, it's whether or not people have access to the knowledge needed to wield their magic. You see as much here at the academy, those with greater knowledge acting as safeguards against the exploitation of fundamentally dangerous secrets to magic." She lightly gestured to him with her free arm back out from behind her back.
"In an ultimately pragmatic argument entrepreneurship rewards seeing opportunity in rising trends and capitalising on it ahead of the rest. While one can stall progress it only serves them so long as there is guarantee that progress never occurs. Once it does, those who stood against it end up behind everyone else, struggling to keep up with the change while those who saw the trend on the rise and adopted it will see great rewards on their investment. History is full of noble houses who sat on their laurels only to find themselves dwindling as they lose territory and other such assets to their neighbours after all."
Thus she made her points. She spoke of historical precedent, of the gods, of the dangers of change and even business. This was not the first time those in positions of authority had questioned the radical nature of her research and it most certainly wasn't the first time she considered the greater implications of her work. Her whole life's effort was not born in a vacuum for life often challenged her on this effort both mentally, physically and philosophically still.
Augusto was right in saying that social acumen had a hand in her work's success. Despite her cold and sometimes awkward demeanour, she understood people well.
They were her greatest obstacles after all.
Ysilla “Lady Ysilla Al-Nader…”
The puppeteer pariah was hardly seen these days. Ysilla attended her classes and communed with the other puppeteers in their appropriately named student society. Time not outside was spent toiling away on her craft. There was always a new shape or inspiration for the Virangish eccentric.
Dressed in a midnight black dress with accompanying oversized witch’s hat, she kept herself nearly hidden aside from her face that often hid behind the brim of her hat. Despite the rather simple nature of her dress, she wore a variety of bracelets, rings, necklaces, and earrings with jewels of all colors mounted in silver to add a fine accent. Those that could manage to witness her face, her complex was pale having been spared the sun for so long. There was almost something sickly noticeable to the astute but easily concealed by the makeup applied.
“...and her guest…”
Tailing Ysilla was a six foot tall figure made of brass and steel with interlocking segments that made it clearly obvious it was one of her creations. Rostam, the Brass Dancer. She was quite proud of the work she put in and so not only was this party an event to show her support of Ayla, but also a chance to find donors. She needed a new medium and there are always bigger and better ideas…
Ysilla hovered across the Mansion with the bottom of her dress fanned out to conceal her small, silent steps across the floor. Rostam was just as silent, the joints well fitted and lightly oiled to prevent the intrusion of his sound. The pair moved over to who Ysilla considered the height of the party, Ayla.
She gave a quiet nod of greeting before finishing her approach. “Ayla…” It was at this point, Ysilla had silently panicked. She had run out of things to talk about! Or rather, wasn’t prepared at all! “Your tastes for arrangements are exquisite.” Her tone, as always, was monotone not betraying a hint of emotion like a carefully created mask. There wasn’t a follow up as she stood there, silently watching Ayla and waiting for her response. Rostam, too, was watching her. Conversation was never her strong suit, relying on others to carry it.
Ayla smiles widely at the sight of Ysilla, though raises an eyebrow towards her companion. “Tick. Tock.” Her smile wide as it bares her teeth, taking to holding the girls hands warmly and giving them a good squeeze. “You were missed. So much so, they had to send three to replace you.” She had to fight the urge to hug Ysilla, giving an extra long squeeze of the hand had to do. She moved to look up towards Ysilla’s brass chauffeur, as she held out a hand towards it. “Do you have a name?”
Food is Served
After a slow start of awkward introductions, the party started to grow engaging as multiple people got into conversations. Various guests and students start to mingle. What was seen primarily as a social function for the Duquesa and her guests started to become overrun by the other Arslan’s friends. The crowd was impressed at the prestige of the students walking through the halls, the up and coming generation into the world of politics spanning the twin continents. The Duquesa continues to guide certain individuals into one of the back rooms for far more hushed discussions out of earshot from the rest as she makes her way to the front.
“Señoras y señores … …”, Azahara raises her arms up, her hands outstretched as she clicks her fingers loudly, calling to attention to those in the room, and the staff waiting in the wings.
In classic Torragon tradition, the food is brought out on trays which are allocated to the tables. Each try consists of multiple small plates, Ayla-sized portions of food being served up.
The reception is rather different for those from afar, as a few are already showing their eyes wide with insult at the stingy meals, hawking. Thankfully Ayla is able to explain to her friends before they embarrass themselves like some of the others in front of the host.
“Tapas! Great!”, she clapped her hands together as she explained for her friends. “It is a fun Torragonese tradition. Instead of one big meal, you have 4, 6 or even 8 meals! You get to taste a lot of everything. Really good to explore with your taste buds.” The dishes served some offerings from the other nations too, a rather multicultural Tapas buffet. “Please take a plate and dig in, there is always more.”
Ayla moves to one of the dishes, croqueta, using a fork to pick it up. “This is one of my favourites. Croqueta! Deep fried mix of veg, cheese and ham, crisp shell and yummy soft middle.” She looks upon those gathered, deciding to target Trypano, moving the fork up towards her mouth. “Take a bite, you won’t regret it!”
The banquet continues as the empty plates are taken away and the fresh ones brought. Ayla encourages more of her friends to eat as she convinces Kaspar to have chorizo sausage wrapped within a tortilla topped with guacamole and sour cream, even suggesting he can eat it with his fingers. Others who were busy talking and neglecting the food got similar treatment as she didn’t want her friends to go without. There are treats continuing from far and near, even the Djamantese Pastizzi were on the table reportedly baked by Ayla herself. There is no pallet unsatisfied on offer.
The backroom opens with a loud ruckus as further guests who secreted themselves earlier during the gathering make their way into the hall. There is much excitement and chatter, it seems that whatever has been discussed has resulted in a very positive ending and business is concluded. Even if the contents ended up becoming hushed as they entered the dining room, a few cannot help but continue conversations at their table as they wine and dine. The guests begin to take their places at the tables, ensuring the cooks and chefs at the Manson de las Mil Ventana were certainly receiving overtime pay and a bonus.
There was always one who was the last to enter and the gravitas was clear for those around to see. The Duquesa moves up towards the man, giving a bow and offering her arm as she leads him to the position at the head of the table, usually reserved for King Sancho himself.
It was the man most expected to make a presence, the one many have heard about. Duque Duerte of Casa Arslan del Torragon, Guardián del Varrahasta, Protector del Río Arapor, Warden del Reserva Natural de Arapor, Keeper de la Basílica la Llama Sagrada…
As he reaches the seat, the characteristic ring of the bell is done as the room falls into silence.
“Thank you all for attending.”
“It is with great pleasure that business has concluded on his happiest of occasions. Now, before my announcement later this evening, we wish only for this. Eat to your heart's content and indulge in this wine, for we shall celebrate well into the night.”
“Enjoy!”.
Duque Arslan gives the sign as he gestures for those to lower themselves and get comfortable. He is soon seated himself, sitting next to his wife as they chat. Ayla looks somewhat confused by the supposed announcement, but shrugs her shoulders.
She turns to her friends with a big smile. “Right, that can only mean one thing. Expect everything to be in generous portions. Help yourself to anything and everything, though don’t sneak too many bottles out in your bag, Ingrid” She gives her Eskandish friend a teasing wink, though certainly code for some of the others to help themselves this evening.
She also waves Dory down, hoping to cause an opportunity for Zaz and Marci to exchange a few words with the other pair.
Marceline was running late. She'd been at a meeting of one of the student clubs that she was part of and they were already... acting on their goals. The problem was that she now had to walk back from their rather remote location. Marci and 'walking long distances' had had something of a falling out around the time of her eleventh birthday and were unlikely to ever make amends until 'walking' was replaced with 'rolling'. She'd hired a pousse-pousse on her meagre allowance and made it back to her dormitory. She'd washed up a bit and then spent about thrice as long dressing as she usually did. Duque Frannemas had been generous enough to provide each of the five he had sponsored with one respectable dinner outfit and while Marceline's wasn't bad, it was rather plain. That 'brother' of hers would likely be there, for he was a high society type, dressed to the nines and looking down his nose at her for having refused to call herself a Hohenfelter again. Tonto, she thought of him purposely using Torragonese instead of Kerreman. She was Marcelina Escarra, after all.
It was a second rickshaw that took her up to the gates, and she clambered out of it and up the stairs with some assistance from Kinetic magic. Gods, you look stupid. What are you even doing here? You're not high society. You're embarrassing yourself. She was rather tardy on top of everything else and it was almost enough to make her turn on her heel and run the other way. She made it to the door instead, gathered herself, fixed her hair, and tightened a couple of ties on her dress. By Ipte, it was frilly. The sheer... diameter of the thing made it hard to use her cane. Then, came the announcement. "Lady Marceline Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau."
"I-I'm not..." she stammered, running out of words. More than a dozen faces turned her way curiously, including his: Manfred's.
“Marci~”
Called out the Virangishwoman to the rescue. There was a lot going on, notably with Maura dropping the ultimate query with but one word, but with things potentially getting a bit too hot, she had to act. Rising from her seat with her wine glass still between her fingers, she approached the lobby of this exquisite evening to greet her business partner, “Well don’t you just look grand!” she cheered, arms opened upon invitingly, though she quickly closed them with only her free, gold-decorated hand reaching for the tethered’s shoulder before turning herself toward the Matriarch of the Arslans,
“Duquesa, I have the great honour to introduce you to the great mind behind Zeno Bucks, and the heart behind this gift we so graciously offer to you. Marceline Hohenfelter!” she peered over toward Marceline and gave her a knowing smile, “We were to come together, but being that I just can’t help it with my old, roughian girl habits, I opted to just ride on my own and got a head start. Myyy baaaad~” she nodded over at the teen. They weren’t supposed to come together, but the others didn’t have to know that.
"I, uh... yes," replied Marci, finding her stride verbally again. "Though my partner is too kind and, since we're in the business, it was difficult not to share what we do best. I truly hope you like it."
For a moment, she prickled. Zarina had called her that name too and she had glanced away to see his eyes upon her, quickly averting her own. But you shouldn't be! she yelled at her inner self. He's just some rich bully who's used to getting his way and just wants to live in the past with some version of you that either doesn't exist anymore or never did! You don't let people like that push you around. He's no brother.
Then and there, she'd have glared back at him were it not so clearly socially inappropriate. Instead, she engaged her partner and the hostess in a brief, friendly conversation. Marceline found that she had vanishingly little in common with the latter, but the duchess was making an effort and she was a power player in any case and important to have onside. When matters were finished, She teetered over to a chair, feeling a good half-century older than her fourteen years, and all-but threw herself onto it. Ladylike, she scolded herself. "Thanks for the save," she remarked to Zarina, taking in and expelling a deep breath. The fitted nature of her dress compressed her ribcage and the plunging neckline squeezed her chest, giving her breasts like a matron and perhaps the constitution of one as well. "But now I find myself bound to a lie," she huffed, annoyed with her friend but trying to soften her expression. Zaz had been forced to think on her feet. "I am no Hohenfelter." She glared at Manfred's back as he went through the motions of a dance. A few other free-spirited young couples were out on the floor as well. "Nor do I wish to be." She grimaced and shook her head, eye sinking to her lap and fingers twining and untwining themselves. "Sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful."
Zarina clicked her tongue in response to Marci’s thanks and winked at her, “No sweat.” she sat by her business partner and gave a thorough checkout of the room, one leg over the other and her hands knitted together over her abdomen, “Why not?” she asked very casually, her attention still torn between Marceline and the other guests, “It’s a useful name. A tool. One does not need to feel attachment or pride over a mere tool.” her gaze converged with what the Tethered teen had been glaring at, prompting an smug chuckle to escape her, “And they can’t do anything to stop you from using it.”
The Virangishwoman stood up, wine still in hand though nearing emptiness, and oriented herself toward the assortment of wines she sought to serve herself with rather than wait to be served, only to have to wait even more for the servants to get the right bottle, “Anyway. Let’s not get too grumpy, Little bean. Now’s the time to make friends and make good impressions.” she gave a smile to her friend before going for some vintage indulging.
Ayla is getting through multiple people, almost getting lost in the crowd, especially as she is the little one. She ends up orentiating to Zazzy and Marci who she hasn’t greeted yet. She happily extends her arms as she gives Marci a light hug, “mi hermanita - my little sister”, a comment always amusing due to their heights.
“Glad you were both able to make it, and now on that note, we have something special to share.” Ayla puts her box upon the table, as she takes what looks to be a normal piece of bread, then gently sprinkles some of the contents upon it. She happily brings Zaz and Marci a piece, offering it to the pair. “Open wide and try this!”
Upon opening wide, they will find the spratz coated pieces of bread pushed within them mouth to devour and enjoy. “Dory gifted it to me, it is called Spratzpepper! It is grown in her homeland.”
Whatever Marci may have said was interrupted by the arrival of Ayla, who seemed to sense emotional distress like a shark could smell blood in the water and who seemed almost biologically compelled to do something about it. Something delicious was shoved into Marceline's face, protest or not, and her only option was more or less to chew or to choke. Swallowing, she held the bread out before herself. "Ipte, it's delicious," she remarked, glancing Zarina's way. "And, uh, thank you." the younger girl flashed a smile.
"You said it was from Dory?" She blinked incredulously and scanned the gathering, but Dorothea was nowhere to be seen, currently. In any event Marci didn't really know her that well. The few times that Marci had seen her, she'd assumed the Feskan had money, but gifting that much. "Zaz, this wouldn't be something we could introduce as a premium or prestige offering at 'Bucks, would it?"
Zarina returned from her self-serving of white wine, one arm open as she saw Ayla with her friendly associate. The tall Virangish girl scooped the little cub in for a brief but tight embrace, “Hey hey, Kitty cat. What’s this?” she leaned in to nab the piece of bread with her mouth and nommed away, “Mmm. MmmMmm …” then she stopped chewing, eyebrows furrowed.
“More.” she ordered with an intense glare in her eyes, “More.” for the first time this evening the wine glass was dropped as her hand sought out the delicious treat instead, “These are spratz, yeah? You’d be right to think that, Marci.” she spoke with her mouth full, because she wasn’t going to stop enjoying this so long as Ayla provided, “Issue is supply and prices. Every Joe that sells food wants this shit. And for good reason.”
Marceline nodded. "It's aspirational, so it's high prestige and low volume. Not worth it unless we can piggyback an existing supply chain." She furrowed her brow. "Does Dorothea's family already import to the city?"
Let out a playful squeal of growl as she is scooped up by the tall Virangish woman within that tight embrace. She pushes the piece of bread between her lips, the finger making sure it goes right inside as she chews upon it. As the over eager girl starts hunting for more, she playfully boops her on the nose, “Calm down Riesco. You can have more later when we have the treats to match,” giggling playfully towards her.
She answers Marci’s question. “Manfred took her off to the dance floor in a Kerremand style. She is eager to meet you though! May be willing to part with it on very favourable terms.” she smiles widely, "Perhaps we may get an opportunity for introductions."
Marci nodded. "One might hope, because this is divine." She blushed. "May I have another?" There was a mischievous grin after a moment. "I'm lil' and sad and need it so!"
The time came for the yums and Zarina was very much put in the mood by Ayla’s feeding of the spratz bread. Tapas in particular mader her salivate. It all looked so good that she couldn’t help herself! “Don’t mind if I do. Can’t go wrong with a Tosta Tomate.” she uttered with an accurate Torragonese accent. It was a long slice of baguette-like bread with tomato sauce/paste smeared over the surface where it was split in half. She would add bits of queso and jamon over the end of it and take one big bite, progressively eating down the bread with different toppings each bite, “Mmmm~ Try this, Marci.” she waved her topped bread to her friend.
“Nice coincidence, aye? The lady with the Spratz so happens to be the one with your, ahem, brother,” she chatted with Marci, quiet enough to not get any accidental eavesdroppers, “Wanna go and say hello to them?”
Marceline was busy stuffing her face. There had been occasional nice meals at San Agustin, but nothing like this, and not consistently. "So many choices!" she squealed, "and so little time and space in muh tummy." After a quick, wary glance around, she patted it in a most unladylike fashion, grinning.
She and Zarina continued to chat and scheme, until the latter just had to push again. It was bad enough that she insisted on calling Marci 'Hohenfelter' and had put it on the registration for their business. Now, when prodded to speak with that horse's ass, her face became stony. The fourteen-year-old shot her friend a warning glare. "I think it's best if you take the lead on that. I think I'm going to be sick."
Before Zarina could respond, however, she was saved by the bell: the dinner bell. Tapas were served and Marceline's stomach was magically cured. "Okay, nevermind, I'm better now," she chirped, gazing over the smorgasbord, eyes lighting up. "But seriously," she whispered, leaning in as Ayla waved Manfred and Dorothea to seats a good deal closer than Marci would have liked, "it'll only make things awkward if I go talk to them. We need to separate business and personal matters."
“I agree with both your statements.” Zarina replied, one leg over the other and her lips knowing only wine even as the main course was served. The lack of spratz in the food just made it a tad less appetising to a girl far more used to banquets than Marci ever has, “But it looks like business is going to hit close to home, my dear friend. I think the personal-professional separation mantra is one you’ll be learning sooner rather than later.” and then she took a sip, smiling at the two guests that were beckoned over by Ayla.
"Your family...?" Dory inquired. "Should we help her out?"
There she was: Nina, his very best friend and closest confidante for most of his childhood, his beloved sister whose loss had gutted him empty, who he had searched for, whenever an opportunity arose, for years. The correspondence he had sent to so many refuges...
There she was: small and lost and scared. The girl had his sister's face and it broke his heart to see her like that. Yet, she was not his sister. Nina was gone, cruelly erased as a ten-year-old child by evil men in Torragon: alone, lost, and terrified. He could not imagine what her last thoughts might have been, but it filled him with the deepest, blackest rage to think about. This 'Marceline' was a stranger who occupied her body, who suppressed every shred or scrap of his sister that tried to rise to the surface and, much as he counselled himself not to, much as he told himself that it wasn't her fault and that some part of her was still Nina, he hated her for it. This false personality: it was an impostor, a parasite, an abomination and -
"Should we?"
His fists were clenched so tightly that his palms nearly bled. He took a deep breath as the Virangish girl - Zarina, maybe? - swept in to the rescue. "No, not family." He shook his head. "Must've been a name mixup or something. I think she was trying to correct it." He shrugged after a moment. "Anyhow, I think they'll call for dinner soon enough. We're almost into Eshi now. Until then, shall we?" He began to lead her once more through the steps.
"Not family? I don't think there would be a mixup in an event of this scale..."
Manfred wasn't telling her everything and she could not just see it through his expression, but the tone of his voice was something rang amiss in her head. It may just be a gut feeling... But the concept of family is too important to her. She once again held the Kerreman's clenched fist.
"Manfred, I can feel that this is bothering you... Be honest with me, is she family or not? I want to know the truth."
It seems that the Feskan will not let go of the subject matter until he tells her. Her hands tighten their grip on his fist with a determined look on her face.
"If need be, we can find a quiet place if you're not comfortable talking about it here.."
"Just go through the motions," Manfred said quietly, through clenched teeth. "Wait until the song is finished." She was being obnoxious, not knowing when to leave well enough alone, but it also meant that he was not the master of his face right now. Maybe she just cares. The thought struck him out of the blue and, much as he tried to dismiss it, it lingered. The music began to change and he pulled her off to a small adjoining room, where they sat down across from each other at a small table in the light of a large window. "Dorothea, my love," he began, "I mean it when I say that I care for you more deeply than you know, that I think you are a good, strong, beautiful woman. You are right o sense that there is more to this issue, but it is not one that I am prepared to talk about and it would be far better for you to not get involved."
Dorothea could barely get a word out as he made her wait, causing her to click her tongue. What's with his attitude today? There has to be more. Then as the music switched she was pulled away by him. As they sat down the words rang in her ears. "It may be better with me not knowing, but I am here for you... I can see how it is affecting you. Please Manfred, won't you tell me even?" Dory asked him with a reassured smile.
"I do not make it my business to cry over things that cannot be fixed." He shook his head, scowling off to the side. "That... Marceline girl is what they created in the refuge after they erased my sister Nina." He glanced back her way for a split second before taking some of his wine. He clapped the glass down on the table. "Ugh. Perrench swill," he spat. "Anyhow, she is not my sister: merely some little Torragonese beast eager to paint me with the same brush as my awful parents. She has made it quite clear that she wants nothing to do with me and the feeling is very much mutual. Her prickly reaction was because they didn't call her 'Escarra' or whatever she wants to be called." He downed the rest of his wine, grimacing. "Now, that is the last I will hear on the matter. I have spent the past week mulling it over and I admit that I have not been the best companion to you. It is a bitter disappointment, but it is finished and I wish to put it behind me."
"Erased your sister? I don't understand. How can they just erase a person?" Her mind was running all kinds of ways a person could perhaps be erased. If it was truly that easy wouldn't her mother have tried that? Perhaps it has already been done to her and she doesn't even know. "I don't want you to suffer like this again, okay? If you have these regrets, these feelings of sadness. Please talk to me about them, okay?"
Manfred waved her concerns away. He appreciated them, in a sense, but it was not his place to burden her with what were ultimately internal affairs. "They wipe the minds of children sent to those refuges." He shook his head, the moment - the moment it had happened to her - repeating itself in his mind's eye. Nina, precious Nina: witty, spunky, cute, adventurous Nina The last thing she'd known had been either fear or deception. "They take away all of their memories, their personalities, everything that makes them... them, and leave an empty husk that they fill with whatever they like." He shot an angry glance at the back of this 'Marceline'. "That little impostor is the result."
Whatever may have happened next - whatever response Dorothea may have given, it was interrupted by the dinner bell. "I thank you for your concern, my love." He flashed her a smile and took her by the hands. "And I am always here if you need to unburden yourself to me. Now come, let us not be late."
Dorothea's eyes clearly showed her fear at the thought of someone being able to take away their memories... their Self. "I am here for you if this ever starts making you feel like this again." Her lips were somewhat shaky as she tried to keep a warm smile for her partner. It can't be so easy to remove someone is it? And why would they even want a girl from a pretty standard duchy? Nothing added up in her head.
But before she could interject any further, the bell rang and was taken by her hand. "I will keep you at it... Better have some alcohol ready for me to dump all my burdens on you." She gave him a forced smile back.
The conversation with Augusto, Yalen, and Trypano was interrupted by Duquesa Azahara introducing food to the event. A momentary confusion took Ingrid when she looked at the size of the food. Luckily Ayla was quick to clear the confusion and created excitement for Ingrid. What could be more delightful than trying multiple different things from a far off land.
Ingrid turned to Augusto after Ayla had broken her way into the small circle, "Well Augusto, I believe that was all the time we had." She did a light lowering of her head as she made her way out of the group.
She turned to brother Yalen, "Yalen, would you like to explore these Torragonese dishes together?" Trying to help him pull away assuming he may be here for the food.
"Of course Ms. Penderson!" Yalen smiled at her from ear to ear. "The best way to thank our hosts is by taking what we're given. It wouldn't do to put their hard work to waste."
While the appearance of the dishes was something of a culture shock for Yalen, he didn't have any complaints. He'd already had a taste of Torragonese cuisine during the short time he visited the country, and his natural disposition was to be grateful for anything he received freely. Regardless of the amount of food available, each dish looked and smelled amazing. It was clear the chefs were passionate about their work.
"They served these shrimp to us when I visited the refuge, but I never got a chance to taste it." Yalen reached for a plate of the freshly grilled shrimp and held it at arm's length so Ingrid could take her share. Once the two had their portions in hand, he tore the head off his crustacean and sucked the juice straight out.
"Wow! You can really taste the garlic in these." Yalen commented after wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. "I heard you're from Eskand, is that right? How does Torragon's seafood compare to home?"
Ingrid was familiar with some of these creatures that they were eating, though they seemed different probably due to their origin.
"Thank you for the shrimp," Ingrid said as she followed suit. Their was a strong garlic flavor, Ingrid had been growing use to it during her time at the school.
Ingrid was glad to answer Yalen, "Eskandish seafood is something to behold, maybe it was out of necessity since many cannot reliably grow food there but we rely a lot on the sea. Garlic isn't common in Eskand, we much prefer to use herbs and certain flowers for our flavours. And lots of butter. Torragonese seafood is good but I think I prefer the richer flavour of the sea that I get from my homeland."
"What of you Yalen? What Cuisine is common to your homeland," Ingrid inquired as she went to get some of the brined vegetables to help cut through the garlic, offering some to Yalen as he did the shrimp.
"My homeland?" Yalen thought the question over while cleansing his palette with a bite of pickled cucumber. "Miatto's culinary history is a mixed bag, I would say. Most of the food you see in Perrence is also common in Miatto, but that is only a part of the whole picture. Before Perrence's rise to power, our stretch of the continent was inhabited by many of the people who later became the Torragonese and Segonese. There is also a fair amount of Revidian influence, not just in our food but also our language. The Perrench crown is very sore about that point."
"As for what I grew up eating," Yalen continued, "lots of grain and meat. There's plenty of both in Miatto since most of it is farmland. We ate a ton of bread and pasta in the orphanage, and there was beef stew every week. Dairy too, since we had cows. Fishing is plentiful on the northern shores, but I lived in landlocked part of the country." He reached for a plate of fried sardines next, stopping to inhale the spices and citrus juice before biting into one. "Maybe that's why I love to eat fish now. I have to make up for lost time."
Ingrid wasn't the type to interrupt someone so she jut happily listened to Yalen talk about his countries unique cuisine. Ingrid understood that to a certain degree as well considering Eskand took some things they found up north and brought them down home. Now they are just part of the culture that people argue about where they came from.
Seeing that Yalen seemed to have a pretty robust knowledge of his own nations cuisine and a love of fish, "Well, if you are trying to make up for lost time, how about we set up a dinner party of our own? A small one that we each bring something from our homeland. I'm pretty confident in my cooking.”
"A dinner party?" Yalen raised an eyebrow. "That is an unexpected invitation I must say." To buy himself some time to answer he picked up his cup of water and took a long sip. It wasn't that he didn't want to, it was just a very sudden proposition from someone he'd only recently become acquainted with. However, if there was one thing someone could use to bait him into a social gathering it was the offering of food.
"Still, it would be rude of me not to accept. Who else were you thinking of inviting?"
Ingrid responded as Yalen sipped his drink, "I just want to share a meal with people I wouldn't otherwise." Ingrid waited to see what brother Yalen would say and Ingrid was excited. She thought for a moment and said, "Well, I have a close friend named Dory, she is also at this party. Ayla because she is great at making friends and should help if people have some schisms occur. My teammate Desmond since he loves food. And maybe Sven if he has the time." Ingrid has a lot of people she could invite but she should stop, "What about you Yalen? I think anyone would be fine and as many as you like since I'm already inviting so many."
"I would certainly like to see some of the guests here again, especially in a less formal setting." Yalen subtly pointed out a few familiar faces. "We five were sent to Torragon together: Zarina, Ayla, Kaspar, Jocasta, and I. We're not all in the same Zeno group, but we've gained a unique camaraderie thanks to our shared experiences. I've come to enjoy their company very much." After finishing his cup he set it on the table and continued to think. "My friend Isabella might want to come too. You may have seen her linking up with Zarina before. Pigtails. Glasses. A unique sense of... fashion."
Kaspar's presence was subtle. He nodded, lips curved in something barely qualifying as a smile but still bright for his features as Ayla and Maura spoke to him about art, referencing an individual they both seemed to know who, from their gazes looking towards the faint charcoal stains on his fingers, shared a similar medium. His cheeks turned a bare shade or two pinker at their hushed words and giggles, but he allowed them space to speak to each other. Maura complimented his attire and he offered a polite thanks and nod, but both their attentions were shortly pulled elsewhere.
This was alright with the boy, who was not a particularly social creature. He simply observed his companions as they spoke and drifted around, himself taking a turn about the space to nod politely at nobles he didn't recognize out of the expectation that they should acknowledge each other. His parents had given him foundations and his etiquette class was building on it, but nothing could make the boy want to speak with these people.
He was seated again well before the tapas made their way out, and eyed the food in front of him curiously. He observed Ayla keenly as she spoke and then began to eat. Picking out a croqueta himself, he copied her motions near-exactly to ensure he ate it appropriately. He was pleased to find the crisp of the shell mixing expertly with the texture of the inside, flavours mixing in a near-familiar way with an unfamiliar weaving of spice the boy did not commonly eat. It was good, if small—and his eyes were already scanning for others who seemed to eat politely, studying the manner in which they did so for his own benefit.
Kaspar was more than pleased for a snack that could be eaten with hands rather than silverware. He ate the chorizo concoction, being sure to take more sophisticated bites than was his natural inclination.
The food was, of course, delicious. Kaspar was not one to limit his palate, though certain items were quite a bit more familiar. He’d enjoyed much of what he ate at San Agustin de las Arenas, and the chorizo seemed of a similar nature. But as the taste danced across his tongue it seemed to drag at different memories. Heavy shadow and painful brightness. Flashes of hot blood on hot Torragonese sand. Reaching out into the abyss and for the briefest of moments cradling what was found there.
The thoughts (or were they memories?) mixed with the meat and tang on his tongue, fading like distant humming before it was gone. For a moment it was perplexing, and a note of curiosity pulled down at his lips and brows, but there was much to be done here—and it seemed that the Duke was finally making his appearance.
An announcement? That brought a different sort of curiosity to the boy who knew little of his friend’s family or father. As he dined his eyes still often hovered on Ayla and her conversation partners, but darted towards the Duke with increasing frequency, trying to read the face and the body of the man for any sort of tell.
Zarina stood and politely bowed to the two, offering her hand to Manfred should he wish to take it for gentleman’s greeting, and then sat back down, “Dorothea and Manfred, enchanted. I’m Zarina. I’ve heard great things about you two.” her eyes were focused onto Dory in particular, “Your dress is something, love, but I don’t even have the vocabulary to describe how much I find your hair ravishingly beautiful.” and another sip down the Virangish drain, “So, Ayla tells me you’re both from down South. I must confess, I’ve never been but I hear the sea is truly something to behold there.”
Dory couldn't help but smile from the words from the woman addressing her. "Do you really think so?" Her smile disappeared somewhat as panic set in. Quickly leaning forward to not have to say it too loudly. "Ayla hasn't said too much embarrassing stuff about me, right?"
“Oh, Vashdal as my witness, I can safely say she would never say such things!” Zarina replied as Dory joined them. She let her wine sit on the surface before her and kept herself comfortable on her seat, “I just tasted some of those Spratz Ayla had on bread and, mmmm …” she formed an ‘OK’ sign with her hand, “I’ve rarely tasted better. Feskan delicacies are something. And she tells me you’re Feskan yourself! How lovely.” she smiled.
Manfred squeezed Dorothea's hand. "She is, indeed. Very Feskan, one could say. Dear..." he turned to her, "she has a demand; you have a supply. Might there be an opportunity here?"
"You're going to Djamant?" Jocasta knew she was from there. She had fragmented memories of the place: the arid, grassy fields full of wildflowers, the prickly pear cacti thrusting up into the sun, the gnarled olive and cypress trees overlooking the rocky coast and the squawk of gulls. "It's pretty, I've heard, but there isn't all that much there... aside from the honey, some jewellers, and a few old ruins."
Maura gives her a look as if expecting a different answer. However, before Maura would provide Jo an answer to her question, the Duque himself has weighed in with his words on the matter. "It seems we are finding out after the meal, but you didn't hear from me." She gives Jo a knowing wink, "We will be travelling there a lot, one would imagine. Let 's hope the beaches and festivals are as fun as they say they are."
Left rather clueless, Jocasta responded with a polite, "I'm sure you shall enjoy it greatly. I spent some of my early childhood there and it is beautiful indeed, if a bit small for a party of your eminence."
She tilted her head and regarded Maura in earnest. "But why ever might you be travelling there regularly?" she inquired. She glanced at Ayla's way, hoping for a rescue, but her friend seemed... oddly confused as well and, presently had busied herself with trying to wave down a pair of Kerremans who she was not well-acquainted with.
Maura offers a plate towards Jo which had a Pastizz upon it with a smile. She casually starts to indicate towards the other nobles in the room. There are a few of what you would expect in a gathering like this, primarily all from the Central Alliance and a few neutral countries, but there were an unexpected number of those who appeared to be Djamantese in a gathering of this size. Outside of Ayla and her friends, it looks like the others came with an entirely different purpose. "Though for ourselves, was meaning you and myself travelling together for an entirely different purpose, make sure you drink plenty of the wine."
Jocasta merely blinked, unsure what to make of the cryptic comment and none too comfortable with her future actions being spoken about with such certainty. "We shall see what adventure the future holds, I suppose." She smiled weakly back.
She couldn't help it. She wasn't sure why. There was just something about Maura - something calculated, calculating, despite her outward friendliness - that Jocasta all-but instinctually resisted warming to. Now, she would have to choke down a pastizz, because all Djamantese loved them.
There were a good dozen or so here: small, stout, and swarthy, stuffing their faces with the most fattening foods they could find and jabbering on in their annoying language. She barely spoke it anymore and their mere presence made her feel like a fraud. Play nice, she warned herself. People are watching.
Ayla seems to appear out of nowhere as she places her arms around the pair, embracing them. “Was about to introduce both my besties, good to see you have already met!”, she squeezes upon their shoulders as she whispers softly, “Don’t tell Zazzy that, she might get jealous” giving the pair a wink. She moves forward to take one of the Pastizzi, biting into the treat. “Mamá has given me a book on Djamantese cooking, so been serving up these treats as practice for the Pumpernickel clubbe, what do you both think?”
Maura bites into the pastry goodness, smiling as she looks towards Jo, “What do you think, would you take her as your housewife with this cooking?” Ayla gives Maura a look and a shh, “Don’t try to embarrass my baking”.
"You know," replied Jocasta, taking a bite and suppressing her gag reflex - they were just so fatty - she smiled and chewed, giving herself time to think. Surely, she wouldn't be expected to speak with food n her mouth. For what it was worth, Ayla had actually done a decent job with the vile dish. The pastizzi weren't greasy. Jocasta could not immediately feel the fat choking her arteries. Then, she had it: honesty!
"I'm going to to be honest," she continued belatedly. "It's blasphemy to say for a Djamantese, but I actually don't like pastizzi at all." She didn't have to fake her blush. "Never admitted it before now out of sheer embarrassment." She flashed her friend an apologetic look. "But, in the same spirit of honesty, I'll also admit that you somehow managed to make these little fat bombs palatable." Jocasta rolled her eyes. "Never thought I'd see the day." With a little smile, she took a second bite. "No chance you'd let me in on what the big secret is here, huh?" She gestured generally around the gathering.
Maura smiles, “That was a yes”, bringing forward a bottle to top their glasses up, as if doing an impromptu toast. Ayla ignores the teasing a moment as she looks around the room, not appearing to be overly concerned with what is going on, “Politics. Diplomacy. They want to secure the sea lanes if there is an outbreak of war, Djamante is the prize they are after. With them on side, the Virangish fleet will have a harder time entering the waters of the Central Alliance. Lots of platitudes. Announcement will be a promise or trade deal of some kind, sabre rattling.” she rolls her eyes a moment to the schemes afoot. “What is important was persuading the Duque to invite a ‘few’ friends over for a treat, and enjoy some good food for a change. So feel free to eat what you can! We need that energy for the trials”.
The Announcement
The plates were being removed from the room as those present had dined well and the conversations started to die down. There was a buzz within the dining hall as the guests were starting to eagerly anticipate what is about to happen next. It was as if on cue, the Duque raises to his feet, the bell chiming as silence descends on the room.
“It is great to have so many gathered on such an auspicious occasion, having so many friends gathered under one roof, including half the academy.” A chuckle rings through the room as eyes gather to the table occupied by Ayla and her friends. “A warm thank you for the de la Mantoline family who travelled for this occasion as well.”
On the right-hand side of the Duque is a well-dressed gentleman of some apparent importance who nods, mouthing thank you to the gathered guests as a show before indicating something towards the Duque. Duarte appears to concede the floor to him as he indicates for Ayla, Azahara and the other Arslans to come to him at the head table. Ayla simply follows the instructions given
The gentleman stands up as he speaks to the room. “Hello hello, and I guess, welcome to the Banquet”, he gives a big but slightly awkward smile towards the crowd. “For you who don’t know me, my formal title is Marchesino Alexandre de la Mantoline, graduated from this academy as Alta Summa cum Laude. You know my writings on the subjects of the Twin-Continents, Callanst, Tarlon, and beyond.”
There is some whispering in the hall as a bonafide respected academic is being presented before them, the others who know him well pouring out more wine into their glasses.
Alexandre starts to bring out a map, presenting it as it is covered in various drawings and scrawling towards the room. “These routes are important for what we will deem merchant activities, and not forgetting the marine wildlife living along the coastlines, such as the Mihalu Striped Dugong who often pair for the mating season… oh, and over here is a nest of Kabus Al’ard which I discovered”, he continues to point and circle at various sections of the map, whatever the original topic was, it now gone on a tangent of the wildlife along the Virangish coastline.
After a few well placed coughs and muted comments, Alexandre ends up on track to the subject at hand. “Where were we? These shipping routes are important to those of Djamante, Varrahasta, and beyond. It is important that these be secured. It was an opportunity to be in a room of good faith actors who shared my concerns and agreed to work together to resolve these difficulties. In my discussions with Duque Arslan of Varrahasta, House De la Mantoline will fully cooperate on efforts to ensure the integrity of the coastal passage.”
There is a round of applause at both the positive conclusion and that a conclusion has been obtained. Duque Arslan moves alongside Alexandre, shaking his hand whilst putting his other hand upon his shoulder. “After an exchange of many letters, a great many, we of Casa Arslan have come to greatly appreciate the work and knowledge obtained for our future generations. It is when you get to know an enterprising man like this, you cannot help but think of him like a son”.
There is a muted silence as Duque Arslan holds his hand out towards Ayla. She looked puzzled as she tentatively placed her hand on his. It is at this moment that the Duque took Alexandre’s hand, combining the hands together as they were left holding upon each other. “We would like to announce the joining of Casa Arslan with House de la Mantoline with the betrothal of Alexandre to my daughter, Ayla.”
Ayla herself looks shell shocked, looking around as if she was caught in some elaborate prank as Alexandre raises up her hand, “For all it is worth, this is the true prize of the announcement”
The room is filled with applause and cheers as the betrothal has been formally announced.
Dory
"Spratz on bread? I guess I should've brought some of my baked goods with me then." Dorothea couldn't help but chuckle from the thought of Spratz on bread being a delicacy, perhaps her taste buds have been spoiled by the access of Spratz. As her hand was squeezed, she looked at Manfred before smiling back at Zarina. "Well, I could ask for a bigger shipment if you wish to acquire some yourself. We'll just have to sort-..."
Dory's voice faded from the sheer silence that spread through the room. Soon enough her eyes were focussed on the Duque as his voice rang through the hall. Has the time truly past that quickly already that the main event has started?
De la Mantoline? I thought it was about Ayla and the Arslans? Perhaps they were a family well acquainted with the Arslan family or rather that young man a friend in and of itself of the Duque?
The announcement of a cooperation does not sound that bad but why does it come with such a weird feeling in the stomach? It wasn't long before the true part of this slimy party showed it's colours and a chill ran down her spine. Verdammt! Why this, of all things!? Her hand squeezed Manfred's rather tightly before leaning into his ear and whispering. "Do not let go of my hand or I will show that Flachwichser 'the true prize'..."
Kaspar
Kaspar listened to Alexandre with interest. Knowledge was of interest to him, though the noble was more partial to plants over maps. Much of what the scholar seemed to be speaking of related to trade routes—things that he would need to pay attention to, if he intended to take over the position of Marquis. As tenuous as that situation was… It wasn’t like the boy had anything else to do but listen.
It was the Duque’s response that made something in the boy’s stomach twist like sickness. The way he was speaking, the honey-sweet words of politics that he’d never acquired a taste for. But to say that he was like a son? And as his hand reached for Ayla’s… The heat roiled beneath his breastbone and burned against his skin. His mind registered the words though he wasn’t sure he could hear them through the ringing in his ears.
Arms wrapped around him from behind, cheek warm against his shoulder through the thin Refuge cloth. Naranja juice burning against a bloody palm. Sitting atop sandstone buildings gazing out across the desert. Screeching half-faced beasts swooping from above. Food and friendship, a gift and a promise and a familj.Hot blood on hot hands on hot Torragonese sand.
Something dug into the palm of his hand—had he always been holding the fork, or had he just grabbed it?—and a harsh bolt of rage shot through Kaspar. Two ends of a fork clattered quietly to the table, the middle utterly gone and a slight swell in his boiling blood. Red eyes stared straight ahead, past the Duque and his “son” and Ayla, unseeing and empty as her face played over and over in his mind, the surprise upon it… A chilling wind against his cold, stoic features, every muscle settled in place beneath the coating of frost.
Yalen
Yalen was familiar with the name Alexandre even if he didn't know the man personally. He was an avid reader of holy texts, but he did more general study on the side as well. Someone as famous as Mr. Mantoline had an entire shelf dedicated to him in Ersand'Enise's grand library, so his reputation preceded him. The young monk listened curiously as the scholar explained the significance of Djamante's trade routes, having never been in the same room as a bonafide celebrity before. He joined the positive round of applause as Duque Arslan and his protégé shook hands.
However, the announcement that followed stunned him into silence. He had not been warned that Ayla's engagement would be announced today. She hadn't even hinted at it. Was it meant to be a surprise to her friends? Yalen looked at her expecting her to return a knowing smile, to clap her hands and yell "Surprise!" However, what he saw instead was a look of terror and disbelief. That was enough for him to deduce that this was a plot by her family and had nothing to do with her opinions on marriage. Yalen was a priest, but he knew what Ayla was going through. His cousin Carol was forced to break up with her boyfriend last year after her father handed her off to a gentleman in the capital. He and his father Charles were only spared the politics of the Castel family thanks to their status as clergymen and their distance from the family's main estate.
Zarina Business already? Zarina smirked at Dory's disposition, however any sort of progress that could be made in this exchange was dashed by the sudden announcement by the Patriarch of the Arslans himself. Zarina leaned back on her seat, wine back in hand and her head craned slightly toward Marci's direction, “I've seen this before. Always leaves a few shocked.” she whispered with confidence without spoiling the outcome.
The betrothal was announced just as Zarina had indulged in about half of the white in her drink, and then raised her glass at the occasion. Some were surprised, some distraught, others cheering. It was oddly neither hot nor cold for Zaz if one referred to her disposition and tone, “At least they didn't wait until she fell in love.” muttered the Virangishwoman, words as hollow as the glass she had guzzled down. Already she was seeking a refill, “She's going to need a few of these, probably.”
Ingrid The party was becoming more prestigious with the new guests making appearance. Although Ingrid had little connection to Torragonesse noble circles, she could still recognize some of the affluent party goers. Nerves were building as Ingrid felt something was off but she has no idea why.
Marchesino Alexandre de la Mantoline, Ingrid was stunned by his appearance at the party. He was not only an Alta Summa cum Laude, something already deserving of immense respect, he was also an accomplished explorer. Ingrid of course knew of him, her own goal was to reach that title herself. But him being here was odd. This wasn't an academic environment, and although he did get to speak heavily on his own discoveries Ingrid could feel a twist in her stomach as she felt he was here for much more than a lesson dugongs.
Ingrid has seen this so many times, to her cousins, to her aunts, to the few friends she had. The normal disregard for this was filled with sympathy for Ayla. They were barely friends but Ingrid could see this was a terrible surprise for Ayla. Ingrid held her wine and simply watched. She would not clap for surprising your daughter with a betrothal. It didn't matter what she did right now anyways, Ingrid was just a noble girl from Eskand, she had no weight here.
Under the city, light filtered weakly into the catacombs through sewer grates and crumbling entrances. It was the pale, flickering yellow of the occasional lantern, bobbing from a wagon’s hook or an early-riser’s hand. The sun had not risen, but if the gray dim was anything to judge by, it was no more than an hour or so away.
Osanna stifled a yawn in the sleeve of her voluminous black cloak, her eyes prickling with the dry ache of having spent far too many hours peeled open. Searching the catacombs at night and playing servant or tutor by day was wearing her thin, but it would not last much longer. It was probably a construct of a very tired mind, but Osanna thought she could feel the tension pooling in Meldheim, a miasma thickening as the various pieces moved into their starting positions. One more day, maybe two, and then she could rest on the long—hopefully uneventful— trip back to friendlier pastures.
It was still near-dark when Osanna reached the exit she had found the night before. It was above her head, a heavy iron door set above rotting wooden rungs. She dropped the heavy rucksack she’d slung over her shoulder—that ladder didn’t look like it could take any extra weight, and hauled herself into the empty space at the back of a dirty, crowded alley. It was empty, so she settled in to wait.
After uniting with the Parrench operatives and Pentad converts, Asier started to better understand what had been going on. It seemed a detachment was sent to cause some trouble, and he was on board from the moment they said their plans. He was to meet up with Osanna, the woman he last saw before the battle, working to secure the ‘guests of Arcel’, a fancy term for hostages from the royal palace.
After being cleaned up to appear like a respectable Eskandr warrior, he made his way to the meeting point down the back alley, spotting the hooded figure. With a gruff and terrible impression, he spoke out towards her with one of their war cries. “Det som er dødt kan aldri dø! - what is dead may never die” he holds out his arms towards her, hoping for some kind of recognition as he approaches, then speaking quieter, “Donc, couper la tête du serpent. - So cut off the snake's head.”
Osanna’s shoulders relaxed as he approached, hardly perceptible beneath the cloak. “I think today, it is their hearts we’re striking at.”
Asier nods as he glances his eyes across to the building looming in the backdrop. “The heart is the most important organ. Gives us courage, passion, and love. Be good to see if they are motivated for things other than greed, envy, and lust.”
”They’re just as human. I doubt our motivations are all that different at heart. Come. We can talk more freely below.”
Osanna disappeared. At first, it was impossible to see where she had gone in the shadows before the sun rose, but upon closer inspection, the black maw of a hole leading downward opened up behind stacks of crates and small piles of refuse. Osanna’s voice echoed up from within. “Step lightly—this ladder won’t hold up much longer.”
He moves towards the darkness as he descends into the abyss, the wood whining and bending as it takes his weight as he steps further down, following his ally. “You’re likely correct, though one likes to think we do follow a nobler purpose.”
”You could say we follow the same purpose as well—to serve our respective Gods. Really, it comes down to who you believe in, which God will come for your soul when you die.”
“These are the days of Echeran, though once there was death, comes life. Let’s hope we reach the days of Oraphe once this war is over.”
Once his feet were once more on solid ground, Osanna scurried back up the ladder to close and lock the hatch securely behind them, less a solid form than a darker patch of shadow. Dust fell in a light rain as the bolt creaked home, and the assassin followed it, dropping lightly rather than test the ladder once more. “Can you see? There’s a cloth sack at the bottom of the ladder containing a guard uniform. I guessed your size, so forgive me if it’s off, but I do have an eye for that sort of thing.”
Asier nods as he begins to undress himself in front of Osanna, taking a hold of the cloth sack as he empties it, “As long as your guess is too large, it should be workable”. The shameless horseman starts to fit himself into the garments, sliding his arms into the cloth and leathers, a far more colourful display as he is adorning the royal colours. The fit was not too terrible, though snug in some places, the voyage thankfully lost some muscle mass which would have left a lot more to be desired. “Have you been around the guards? Make note of any greetings, phrases, or patrol patterns we need to be aware of. Important relics?”. He turns towards her, somehow carrying a more tanned Eskandr guard look within the outfit.
Hidden in the cowl of her cloak, Osanna was impossible to read, but he had the impression that she gave him a once over. “That will do, I think. Just try not to speak much. If anyone asks, you’ve been rotated into the house guard to help cover additional watches. Give them a name close enough to yours to remember, but less… Parrench-sounding.” She laughed. “I’m Ositha. Nice to meet you. Best forget I’ve ever gone by anything else, please. Come on. We’ll talk as we go.”
She turned in a swish of dark fabric and strode into the gloom, taking long strides without making much noise. Cobwebs and dust blanketed the passage, and scurrying creatures scuttled out of sight. More light was beginning to work its way inside, but ahead, the path disappeared into impenetrable shadow.
Asier was impressed at how Osanna kept her composure and knew her information; he couldn’t help but admire her skill. “Ási seems simple enough. Just have to come up with something like a farmhand background.”. He got himself into the role of the house guard, clearing his throat as he does his best impression. “Lady Ositha, pass på dine skritt - mind your step.”
“Thank you, Guardsman, Ási,” Osanna said, laughing. “The guards patrol the keep either alone or in pairs, checking the more heavily populated areas more frequently. There is a contingent constantly stationed around the Queen, and usually one or two trying to keep up with the royal children, though they don’t always succeed. On the day of the attack, I’ll need that to be you, if you can manage it. If not, meet me in the kitchens after you feel the tug.”
Ási nods as he absorbs the information. It seems he would have somewhat free reign of the palace if he passed with being alone. Typically it is simply acting like you belong there to avoid unnecessary suspicion. As for the children, that shouldn’t be too difficult, simply offer them something fun and exciting and they will follow you out willingly. He does make a mental note to have that talk with Maëlle when he returns home. He does raise an eyebrow at the last statement, “The tug?”.
”Oh! That’s right. You rode over with the Eskandish. You’ll have to tell me how you got away later. I’m sure that’s an interesting tale. By tug, I mean the signal Maud will send us. It feels like someone pulling on your ear.”
He nods confirming the assumption that they know he is present. As for the story, it was definitely an interesting and long tale, though the comment spurs something to memory. “We may have reinforcements, sea raiders, coming to sack the palace and might provide a good distraction. They may want water access to the palace and the treasury. Do you know such a route?”
She sighed in a long-suffering sort of way. “I believe there are a few sea entrances in the catacombs but I’ve yet to find them. I could do that this morning, but I’m exhausted and I’m not sure how we would get the location to them in time—if I could even find them. These tunnels are vast and I’ve yet to uncover any sort of map. I know the entrance where you met me, the way into the keep through the kitchens, and a path that lets out on the far side of Meldheim. That is where we will take our charges when the time comes.”
He noticed the tonal shift in her expression, only offering a smile. “These are not your… average sea raiders, they are sea people. We need all the help we need. A lantern at the entrance should allow them to find it” He scratched upon his chin, “Will use the rounds as an opportunity to make a mental map of the palace. Especially the kitchen.”
“Sea people…” her voice was full of wonder. “Well, I suppose that changes things.”
A few minutes later, Osanna stopped at another ladder. This one was in better condition and it showed signs of recent use—probably her coming and going as she worked out where the various passages led. She laid a hand on it and listened for a moment, the tunnels filling with a silence so profound, it made his ears ache and the sound of his breathing oddly loud. Osanna put one hand on the ladder. “Be careful looking for relics. Other than the throne, the Tree of Life, they keep them well hidden. I’ve only found a few interesting eggs, despite the fact that I had my hopes pinned on stealing away their Monsigneus Dragon-Tooth sword. And Asier, no matter what you do, avoid Dietrich Erhaben at any cost. He’s already suspicious of me.”
“Lady Ositha gets the sword, got it”, he grins as she starts to mull over the other information. The Tree of Life certainly sounds interesting, so taking a few seeds and fruit from that might be worthwhile and easy to conceal.
She laughed.”If you find it, it’ll make my day, but don’t worry about it.”
“This Dietrich, what is the story with him?”
“The long and the short of it is that I messed up, and he has an idea that I might not be who I said I was. Rookie mistake, really. A bit embarrassing. With any luck, though, we’ll be out of here before it causes problems and I’ll swap the whole story with you for the one of your escape.”
The assassin led the way up the ladder and into a well-stocked pantry that smelled faintly of yeast and flour and salted meat. There was more light here, and he could see her plainly. She smiled and dusted off his shoulders before giving him directions to the guard house. “You look the part, Guardsman Asi. Just keep your head down. I’ve got a sea-facing door or two.”
With that, she disappeared back down into the dark.
After that farewell, it is time to start his duties, making his way to the guard house whilst swiping a morning bread roll from the pantry.
Asier assumes the disguise as the guard Osanna puts her plans in place. A little chit chat, soon it is going to be go-time.
I would add-on those comments. This roleplay is a lot more similar to an Advanced Roleplay in terms of commitment. You are expected to be semi-active in the Discord and engaging with the content. Big difference between this and an advanced is that if you are generally interested, active and want to take part, you do not need to post novella (some like to do so) and not faced with the same restrictions and high writing standards. Game is perfect for someone who wants something very immersive but concerned about low confidence in their writing.
Event:Taldes, 5th Velles. Great Melon Derby |Location:Academy of Thaumaturgy, Ersand'Enise
The time of the games are beginning as multiple guess teams make their way through the city. A sense of vibrancy erupted in the city as those from many different cultures and ways of life intermingled. Despite all the jovial greetings and welcomes of the different teams, the most important feature of the pre-event is sizing up the competition and getting to know them. The group came together to decide a name: SYCAMORE, created after Ymiico tried to spell out the first letters of Silas, Ymiico, Casii, Ayla, Manfred.
Ayla sat with a group of bard sisters from Greenfields as she enjoyed her coffee, the others enjoying their coffee, milk, and honey treat. “Oh, wow, you put milk in it here?”, Mio looks wide-eyed as she slurps upon the cup, enjoying the sweeter brew. “The cream makes the dream… too bitter otherwise”, the girls are having a friendly chat, even joining in with a Zenobucks chorus. Ayla ticks another group from her list, at least if it all goes wrong, she may have a place at another academy ”Remember to look out for Sycamore!”. Other groups were less suited, giving ominous vibes and feelings.or personality clashes.
Casii and Ymiico had some good success with a group known as Yyshta’s favoured. Fellow Yasoi like themselves who definitely fit the profile of what they were looking for in the Melon Derby, a very strong candidate to winning the tournament as well.
The strategy and planning comes to an end as the instructions are given. Three minutes to pair with the other team not from your school. The signal was Vyshta, and using a sonic-broadcast attack, Ayla crafted the words and sent them up into the air, as the sound-flare announced their location for the other team to find them. “This should make it easier if they know where we are.” Ayla said with a smile, with some disapproving looks.
It wasn’t long for bird calls to ring out as the team identified the fabled team heading their way. They prepared their approaches, Ayla was on the look out for Velani’ashen’orpax. Her only clue was that she apparently talks a lot, and she wasn’t quite certain how Casii expected her to find her on this information alone until she was able to hear how cynical and mouthy she was from streets away.
Ayla brushes herself down, hoping to at least make one good impression to a yasoi. She makes her way towards the group as she heads towards the Velani, with a big smile. ”Ah, you all came! Good to meet you, my name is Ayla and you must be Velani, we heard you coming.” Velani tilts her head to the side as she points towards Ayla, then looking back towards her group, “What is with this sassy… lost child?” The Yasoi appeared to burst in laughter, including Casii who appeared to be in on the joke. Ayla groans, as she failed to make another good impression on one of their kind. She moves to grab the outstretched pointing hand, pouting a little. ”You know what they say, good things come in small packages.”
With the recruitment done. Team Sycamore is now ready to take on the Melon Derby!
Event:Week Nine: Assani 26-30, Student Societies Faire |Location:Academy of Thaumaturgy, Ersand'Enise
DRAGON There was a rap on the door as the knocking was relentless. Even as she tries her best, the pillow held around her head failed to drown out the sound. The lion cub growls and stretches as she tries to fight away the nose at this ungodly hour. “By order, if you don’t open up this door. We will break through it.” When the door eventually opened, it bore witness to the comical sight of Ayla looking like a demonically possessed ghoul with a serious case of bed head. ”... We will be back in an hour. I am sure we can prioritise some other students first.”. The DRAGON agents return in an hour, though this time, a fresh faced and charming Ayla Arslan is there to meet them. ”Lady Arslan, it has come to our attention you are in possession of a Dragon Egg. We are agents of DRAGON to check upon their welfare.”
Ayla opens the door to let them in, the room was warm, really warm, the kind that those in Eskand love to enjoy before diving into the snow after their sauna session. The girl seems to be acting oblivious to it, wearing her typically loose Torragonese clothing. ”Didn’t think my application inquiry would come to you so promptly.”, she moves over towards the special brazier where hot ashes are keeping the Froabase eggs nice and toasty as advised by the fireflies. “The big one when it hatches is going to be named Áureo, and the small one Amêndoa.”, indicating the large one with the aggressive red and encrusted gold pattern, and the small black one which would bear an albino. ”That one looks to be a runt, it is better…” the agent began to speak, before being cut short, ”Oh yes, Amy is just like me. Runts! We would be perfect together” The agents looks towards eachother, but deciding it is wise not to continue their comment after that remark, ”... better with you after all the paperwork is in order. You mentioned an application?”, ”Yes, went to the Fireflies for some advice which they provided with recommendation towards yourself. Having raised Lion Cubs in the past, it is not completely new to me to house... those that require additional requirements”. ”Well, your application was not in time, but since you are so willing and seem to be taking the right steps, let's work together. This is a first offense, you are taking the right steps though running afoul. Let me give you a fine, it looks like you can easily pay it, and we go through the paperwork here. I highly recommend joining the Order as well for learning proper care. Does that sound good?” Ayla nods in agreement, paying the fine and the membership in the hallway, and out of the heat of her room. They didn't need to double check if she qualified under the fireblood bracket.
Zenobucks Ayla has spent some of her free time between moving one place to another working upon a song for Zazzy's new venture. It was good to see her getting along with Marci, especially since that spicy first meeting, and admittedly feeling a tad jealous, but it is all fine. Friends stick together and work together. The melody wasn't too difficult, especially as she decided to do some creative borrowing from a well-known Revidian song, she started to put the chalk to board. Now, how to get more people interested… let’s get that curiosity, that spark, starting small. One foot through the door. ♪ Just one coffee, give it to me, ♪
Now, for something exotic. Things are always nice and exciting when it comes from abroad. Does it even come from aboard? She shrugs her shoulders, Zaz is from Virang, so it does kind of count. Writing the next lines. ♪ delicious elixir, from over sea. ♪
So they need to know what to order. Black coffee can be very bitter to taste, so they won’t be getting a lot of return customers. Milk can help with the bitter taste, and whilst sugar would be best, it is pricey. What about honey… something lighter on the taste buds. ♪ Creamy milk and honey dream, ♪
Now the last important detail, where can they order this treat from! ♪ give me Coffee, from Zeno Bucks team.♪
Ayla smiles widely as she reads the words, and with a hum and a sing-song of her voice. Sings on her way to recite Zazzy the song she came up with. ♪Just one coffee, give it to me, delicious elixir, from over sea. Creamy milk and honey dream, give me Coffee, from Zeno Bucks team.♪
Society Stalls The big weekend has finally arrived! Ayla starts the day with going to the stalls after her advertisement, the streets around the dorms especially are filled with song. It appears some did the wrong idea, as Ayla is buzzing as she is rather loaded up on coffee as they have been purchasing one for themselves and one for her. What is now known as the ‘Ayla’ order has become popular, with stories reporting about the distressed girl singing in need of her coffee and once you taste it, you can understand why.
Ayla takes a look at the map trying to work out the best route to go. It doesn't help that the map was unclear and starting walking around in circles, and it doesn’t help that all the numbers are out of sequence. She decides on attempting a clockwork manner starting close to the dorms, bringing her right to the Fingersteepler Society.
It seems she missed the silence at morning, the anticipation which kept the rest waiting, and due to her late start, this resulted in meaning she arrived perfectly in time for the chocolate. She wolfs down the piece happily as she meets the Shadow Sovereign and his friends dressed in red. ”So what is this, another do-gooder in ignorant bliss. One who aims to thwart my schemes? Perhaps in their dreams!” Ayla smiles widely in excitement at the verse, and cannot help but get into character as well. She puts her fingers across her face. “Don’t mean to fright, for usually this one travels out at night. You think one is a knight? You will soon feel my bite!” she gives a low roar with a biting motion. The Sovereign is being challenged as he hops on top of his seat. ”Sister! Who can resist her? You shall come tonight and dine, you are to join us fine.” "Mister! Don’t you dare diss her. For this is a sign, for she is in fact a dark divine.” Ayla continues her edgy looking pose towards him as if attempting to darken her features. The sovereign shadow looks towards her with that immovable gaze of his mask, clapping his arm upon her shoulder. ”I accept defeat, challenger! You have now joined our number”.
After the word play and potential recruitment into the ranks of one of the ten evils of Sipenta, she starts to continue her journey. She stopped by the magic based clubs, though by stopping, more like trying to avoid them unsuccessfully. Being an Arslan, the Firebreathers were vying for her attention to join their ranks. You may wonder how she gets spotted in a crowd of students so easily, then you remember she is head-to-toe in lion jewellery. ”Arslan! I see you Arslan, come and join us!” After trying to be grilled, both figuratively and literally by the fire breathers, she managed to escape with her clothing relatively intact, and avoided the cloudchasers all together. Her full clothing was much to the shame of Ipte’s courtyard where she ended up next. There was a display of couples dancing and having fun, and she even waved towards Ismette she saw there, but she seemed to be too preoccupied with the kissing booth and offering to take over, much to the joy of many who were gathered there. Nearby was the Torragonese league, making a courtesy showing and signing up, especially as she represents one of the large families, happily discussing Varrahasta with some of the other homesick natives.
Travelling through the arboretum, and after paying appropriate tribute to Mallow, is the Fauna society. It is definitely the best stall around with so many pens of animals, that it could only cause distress with there being so many, there was no time to hug them all and get through the rest of the fair. She ended up speaking with Beryl Mundi, the current president, talking about whether the society would consider paying a visit to the Reserva Natural de Arapor and seeing the famous Arslanian Lions. This resulted in a reluctant a yes based on merits, after a less than impressed statement about her family renaming the local Araporian Lion for their own purpose. Cannot please everyone.
Outside the park is the Pumpernickel Clubbe, with the Taster’s Union conveniently located just opposite. Though that won’t stop Ayla taking advantage with her height to sneak a few extra portions of the pastry delights for herself. ”Hands off. If you cannot bake it, you cannot cake it.” Ayla’s cake-hole was filled, but after a swallow, she responds to the large woman addressing her. ”Oh, yes! Able to make lots of yummy treats. Desserts are my favourite.” The woman raises her eyebrow towards her in a curious then furious manner, ”Treats? We don’t deal with treats here. We are the Pumpernickel clubbe, we are a patisserie club. This is baking, an art, not some... treat!” It appears Una has been enraged by Ayla’s words, as the little cub reels from the woman’s fury. It happened that she was in possession of her own baking in the form of Pastizz, for a completely different savoury purpose, ”Would my Pastizz lunch work?” Una looked down upon the girl, a common event given the height difference, taking a look at the pastries. She decided to take the girl on her offer as there is a light crunch as she takes a bite into it. ”This Pastizz has so much fat, I wonder how many Virangish Stripped Manatees were slaughtered in its creation. This cheese is like candle wax, and the pastry flakes are as tasteless as the dust of a carpenter's workshop. If you really want to learn how to be a pâtissière, I will see you at the exam. Otherwise stick to your… treats. Begone.” Ayla eyes widen as she was surprised at such a harsh review of her baking, another was friendly enough to suggest that her being requested to take the exam was actually a compliment. She sighs in visible relief, she was absolutely convinced she blew her chance then at joining the clubbe. Lessons learnt. Pastries are serious business.
The Bard and Aesthetics societies went as well as expected. The bards were hounding her for paperwork and receipts for performing without a licence, as apparently singing in the streets for free, especially as a clear endorsement of a business, did not constitute as fair use of your vocal ability. It appeared Jaqweshia was unhappy with trying to explain to their other customers that the lion girl was not for hire nor a member of their college and told in specific terms they won't press it further and event enhance her career if she applied. The Aesthetics society on the otherhand was very focused on their art, though some of the pieces were looking very pretentious. She swears that one of the prominent pieces was the aftermath of the artist being attacked by Mallow for wandering too close to the pond, then trying to pawn it off as some kind of masterpiece. There was a strong undercurrent of ‘Make Art, not War’, and some impressive usage of painting styles and techniques using the gift to achieve them which rivals traditional methods of chalk and brush. One artist used binding to create 3D sculptures created layer by layer, looking almost revolutionary in its potential applications.
There were smaller stops at the Needle & Thread Guild, and the Gamers Union. The Needle & Thread looked to be fun, with fashion displays and practical advice on how to use different fabrics. She has heard that the Yasoi girl, Casii, was thinking of joining this one. Perhaps it might be a society to try to befriend her at, or perhaps even hire her. As for the Gamers Union, Ayla thought it was going to be a lot more fun, though the head to head challenges were heated with those present taking it very seriously, and as for every sharp dresser, there were ten more experiencing significant hygiene issues and wardrobe malfunctions. Perhaps this wasn't the scene for her.
It was when she was on her way to the Draconic Order, the Fireflies, especially after her recent visit by the lovely people from DRAGON, that she came across something unexpected.
Last time she came across someone confrontational was Casii, the rather confused and eccentric Yasoi girl, but this was a different level that showed a geninue hatred. ”Look at that one there. I bet she looks down at you even at that height!” Ayla couldn’t help but not notice the obvious reference to herself as the girl was giggling to her friend. ”Oooo I think she heard us, perhaps she covers herself in all those lions so she looks so big and scary! Yet, she can fit in the palm of your hand, like a Palm-Top Lion.” Ayla sighs long, nothing ruins the day like coming across another bully. It is fine, just have to move on. ”Run away now little Lion, don’t worry, Mother will put some spratz in your warm milk for you.” Ayla stops. Normally, she would run away, keep her head down, but there is something about facing death multiple times in the Desert that makes you want to try something different, and it is at this moment, she decides, that sometimes you just have to do something for yourself. She turns around as she walks up towards the girl, then simply smiles. ”Don’t know who hurt you so badly that now the only pleasure in life you take is in the misery of others. Hope you find real happiness without it being at the expense of others.” The crowd of girls looked shocked, the brat even more so, “HOW DARE YOU, NOBLE BITCH”. The girl struck towards her with a mundane slap, as Ayla used the gift, foaming a sonic-sheet with the girls screaming to create a barrier, the hand clapped against it with no harm to either party except for a loud noise. “Is your rage because of my birth? No one chooses their birth, rich, poor, strong, weak, tall, short” the latter with emphasis with a smirk in that self-depreciating manner, “in this unjust world, what matters is our actions. Those who are strong help the weak, those with wealth help the poor, those who are tall get things from the high shelves… and those with power and noble have great responsibility. What is it you choose to do? Help or hinder those around you.” The girl looked like she was not going to give up easily, though it seems the presence of another caused her to reconsider her options as she turned away scowling and cursing.
“Don’t mind her, a large chip on the shoulder. A Noble displaced her family from their home to make way for a private game reserve.” The words did make Ayla frown as she pitied the angry brat, feeling sorry for their experience, the long haired man came up and held his hand out, ”The name is Elek. Don’t get the wrong idea, I wasn’t chastising you, Petra was in the wrong. I thought you spoke beautifully. The world could do with more of that mindset.“ Ayla looks out towards the direction Petra walked off to, ”It was really wrong what happened to her. She has a right to be angry...”, Elek nods as he follows her gaze, ”You are right, but it shouldn’t be misplaced. An eye for an eye, it makes the world blind.” he offers the palm-top Lion a big smile, Ayla couldn’t help to feel charmed by the sentiment. ”Mind if I borrow that one for next time?”, Elek laughs out, ”Gladly. It is all yours to use.”, ”Will do then!”, she smiles, waves, and is about to walk off as she gets tugged back a moment. ”Wait a moment, there is something. I do run a society, and it is actually what you describe. It is called Egalite Fraternite, Perrence for meaning a friendship group of equals supporting each other, regardless of class, RAS, or other such measurements. We do struggle to actually have members of the Nobility join, so I think someone like you would be perfect. Perhaps show Petra that there is good out there, even in the noble classes. What do you say?”. Ayla considers for a moment, then nods.
”Spicy like Virangish pepper.” Yasoi is leaning along the tree branch as he peers down towards the girl. ”Kitty has claws like a ferocious lion, and a loud roar to match.”. Ayla blinks as she looks up towards him, is it really going to be one of those days? Though she gets surprised as an apple is tossed towards her, the yasoi rolling to the edge as he dangles down upon his legs, matching her eye level by hanging up-side down. ”You are not scary like a flock of froabase like Casii makes you out to be.” she tilts her head to the side as she tries to match his look. ”Are you a friend of Yasii?”. He smiles brightly as he flips from the branch, the tall man appearing behind her, lowers himself down upon his knees as if trying to match her height, and still being on the taller side. ”Ashon’amar’loiyang, if you can tie your tongue around that, I would be impressed like a yanii reaching their 80th birthday.”, ”Ash-on’a-mar’loo-e-yang ?”, he claps, ”Close enough! Now, don’t tell Yasii we met-sii, though for a peck on the cheek, I could put in a good word for you with her.”, Ayla raises an eyebrow, ”You are strange one.” Ashon blows a kiss, giving a wild smile, jumping back upon his feet as he hops back up in the tree. ”The friend group sounds fun. Let’s see if they can handle the both of us in there~”
The last but not least is the Draconic Order. Ayla looks up as the fireflies are in action overhead as the riders buzz against the rooftops in a chorus of roars. No where impressive as the Tyrannus Monsigneus, but it definitely lured many eager to join the ranks. A lot of fans are turning up and cheering as stewards create barriers to keep them behind the lines and safe. Ayla joins the crowds as she cheers too, slowly making her way towards the front. It seems that the lines are being formed based on factors such as ownership. Ayla makes her way to the significantly far shorter queue for those who own dragons. ”Hello, can we see your DRAGON paperwork?”, Ayla rummages through the paperwork to produce the provisional licence and also a fine for owning Class B dragon eggs. The man looks at the paper, including the date, looking up towards Ayla. ”Ah, you were the one asking about the dragon eggs, weren’t you? Sorry about that, we need to report suspicious activities. We have had reports of several sales and illegal activities.”, Ayla shakes her head, ”It is fine. Though my eggs were rescued in Torragon, not through the black market. A couple of my friends did as well.” The man nodded, ”You do have a valid licence, so you are eligible for membership. So welcome to the Draconic Order. Put the choice on your application and we can sign you up to the Egg & Hatchling classes our Breeder’s host.”.
Ayla found her way towards the admission office and towards Margot Maloise’s desk by the end of the day. Her application filled out with a Pastizz placed upon it. Office work is hungry work.
Guild: Enchanters' Union Clubs: Bards' Society, Cloudchasers, Egalite Fraternite, House of Japes, Speed Demons, Yasoi'riimei, Astronomers, Ipte's Courtyard
Ayla is getting in a wacky adventure mode again and getting into fights with everyone. Meet some nice people from DRAGON. She does some song writing. She gets in a rhyming match with the Shadow Sovereign, Gordon Ramsey'd by Una, in a catfight with a commoner, met a strange Yasoi, and a host of other weird and wonderful things. She made her choices above.
It has been a busy week. It was hectic before the fair started but now trying to find lodgings for a Duque amidst these conditions proved to be exceedingly difficult. Now only are the alumni returning to host the faire and their sponsors, but also a 100 strong Century Knights have taken up residence. She had already been to see Yalen for his advice on the matter and he informed her about how Colette, his sister, has been staying in his student accommodation due to the lack of availability, not a good start. She had even considered offering her residence at the Pizza slice, though Jocasta easily persuaded her out of that one especially as the last thing she wanted after the events of the Desert was to be next door to a Torragonese duque, present company being the exception. Zarina suggested Ayla should house her father in a brothel to chill him out and give his wife a rest, but even if the temptation was there, there are currently high turnovers due to the volume of business being concluded in those establishments. Ingrid was currently too busy making arrangements for her auction to assist, and Dory locked back into her room again, waiting for her boyfriend to turn up. Marci politely declined stating that she isn’t the best candidate for roaming the city and had just recently arrived herself, and Eun-ji had been recalled to her nation's residence urgently. Last she saw Kaspar was when they had lunch but he has been absent recently, apparently further important family business. The best suggestion actually came from Silas, he recommended she go to Ipte’s Rest at the Cathedral Square, and after kissing the two Dragon Eggs goodbye, marks the location on the map and begins her journey.
Gina clopped upon the cobbles as she made her way towards cathedral square. The streets were abuzz with activity as many travellers came into the city to peddle their wares in time for the society fair. Along the many taverns and inns were notices showing that there are no-vacancies available. The torragonese girl approaches the intended destination as she pulls back upon the hood. The inn would be rather respectable for a merchant, but she can tell from the advertised prices outside the front, Silas did make a sincere effort, she will have to thank him later. She gently guides Gina to the front, tying her to one of the posts as she pets upon her head, informing her she would be back as she enters the establishment.
Inside was decorated with colourful furnishing as she made her way through the door, attendants providing room service around her as the place appeared to be very busy with the volume of customers, even as a couple appeared to be giggling as they moved down into the basement. She makes her way to the reception desk to ring the little bell. An older man comes to the desk, peering over the side to look down towards Ayla, ”Greetings little miss, you appear to be rather young and too well dressed to enter an establishment like this”. The man polishes his glasses, peering towards her. ”Hola, we were looking for a Señor Moriff, recommendation from a friend. He told me that could provide a pleasant and secure accommodation for the Duque, my father.” The older man moves his hands towards the parchment which made note of the lodgings and their availability, ”That could be arranged and prestige of a Duque would enable you to have a discount, but tell me why you would house a Torragonese Duque in a place like this. Is there no availability at Mansión de las Mil Ventanas?”. Ayla does look somewhat perplexed, ”Isn’t that the residence of King Sancho, no?” The man smiles, ”You’re correct little miss. Visiting Duques do have authority to stay there when the King is not in residence. I recommend you go and ask there first. I’ll make sure Mr Moriff saves this room for you, in the event there is no room.” Ayla smiles with a nod, ”Gracias, will go and see straight away!”. The older man waves her away, ”Send Duque Arslan Mr Moriff’s regards.” She curtsies in return, though does question how the man would know her fathers identity.
Ayla made her way to Mansión de las Mil Ventanas after returning to get the directions. The pair did receive a plethora of looks as they travelled down the road together, the petite girl and her Shetland pony being the perfect match for each other. ”No te preocupes Gina, están celosos de tu hermosa apariencia.” With a clippity clop they arrive at the entrance, a gate lies between the building and the road, with a Torragonese guard stationed outside. She trots up towards the guard, who raises his head towards her in a nod, recognising as some form of nobility. ”Buenas noches, Ayla, hija del duque Arslan desea hablar con el chambelán de la casa - Good Evening, Ayla, daughter of Duke Arslan wishes audience with the chamberlain of the house.”, one of the guards nod their head as they move through the gate, leaving Ayla with the other. He indicates for her to step down in preparation of being allowed to enter, as she nods, dismounting as she brushes her hand through Gina’s mane. ”Dicen que un caballo se parece a su dueño - they say a horse takes after their owner.” Ayla raises an eyebrow as she looks up towards him, “¿Estás sugiriendo que parezco un caballo? - Are you suggesting we look like a horse?” The guard grew flustered as he attempted to make his apologies, as Ayla giggled teasingly as she stroked Gina’s neck, ”One can only wish to look this good.”
Ayla is brought through the mansion as she is led through to the welcoming room, and guided towards the indicated seat to wait in the well furnished room and served a Leche merengada for her trouble. After a short while, the door opens, only to not be greeted by the chamberlain. “Ayla Arslan, you appear to have lost your allure since leaving the Desert”, the very handsome man smiled widely, taking his seat opposite towards her. ”Augusto Frannemas, sometimes the allure can be deceiving. If one was to scratch below the surface, they may find that all that glitters is not always gold.” She continues to sip upon her glass as she looks towards him, the Duque’s son smiling in return. ”Sometimes it is, mi amiga de lengua plateada.” Ayla drums her fingers upon her knee for a moment before speaking again. ”Amigo, this amiga of yours does require a favour. Duque Arslan will be visiting the city during this time and requires a residence to stay. We hope your word may persuade the chamberlain to open these doors to him.” Augusto continued that damned smile, ”Amiga, friends help each other. I will gladly speak to the chamberlain, and you may be able to help me complete my business in the city. There are three I wish to speak with from the Desert: the bluebell of Eskand Ingrid Penderson, your negotiating friend Jocasta Re, and a merchant girl by the name of Trypano Somia.” Ayla considers the proposal, ”One may be able to place a good word in for you with Ingrid and Jocasta, the third is barely known, but willing to approach for an introduction.”. With a nod and palms opened, ”I trust my friend to do her best, that is all that matters.”
With the conclusion of her adventure, Ayla mounts upon Gina again to trot back to the dorms. Off on her way to convince the three lucky ladies the chance of an introduction with the heir of Duque Frannemas, and to prepare for the arrival of Duque Arslan.
Going to open up the Collab for Meet the Arslan's. Ingrid, Jocasta and Trypano will have an opportunity to speak with Augusto. This to be arranged with FnF.
Ayla goes on a little adventure to secure a residence for her family's visit.
“the Seventh Immortal Son of the Thundering Universe, or Jamboi for short.” 18 | Male | Hypari | Mundane | RAS: 8.37, ???
Associations:
❖ Biro, Ersand'Enise Academy of Thaumaturgy ❖ Yasoi
The Gift:
❖ [ Kinetic:Gravity ] – [ III. Adept ] - Ashon has a natural proficiency for gravity style magic, using this to transverse the Skyscraper-Trees of his Hypari homeland. It is this knack which has prevented him from more than a few early ends to an otherwise long Yasoi lifespan. ❖ [ Chemical:Enhancement ] – [ I. Novice ] - Focus is on using chemical magic to stave off dizziness and sharpen senses, enhancing endurance and physical fortitude. This is important when swinging and gliding between the trees. ❖ [ - ] – [ ??? ]
Description: If there was such a child that could be a natural Dervish, this was Ashon. Never stopped him from jumping off the balcony and swinging through the city and gliding between the branches. A free spirit who loves nothing more than to feel the air flow through his hair, and the feel of gravity pushing down upon him. He has the thrill of defying death with more than a fair share of close encounters with the scars to prove it. Being the seventh son, the expectations of him achieving much in life were low, with Yasoi superstition marking him out as a troublemaking son of Vyshta. Being defined by those around him, he lives up to this role with a devil-may-care attitude, earning himself the moniker of Jamboi amongst his own kind.
Ashon is a traveller, not one to sit still for long as he goes from one place to another. Known fondness of poetry, mischief, sparring and women. He gives the impression that he views himself as an irresistible ladies man who is the chosens’ gift upon Sipenta, an attitude he is more than happy to showcase. He views all those in authority with suspicion, considering them greedy tyrants with selfish ambitions. When trouble arises not of his own making, he usually stands back, though he can be merciless towards those who seek to significantly wrong him. He often finds himself becoming infatuated with things and individuals which he would then pursue. He receives great excitement from the chase, challenge, and reputation from attempting and overcoming the improbable. Ashon's favourite past-time is becoming ambiguous to those who attempt to know details about him. He likes to give the illusion of mystery and suspense, as he enjoys the chase of 'Catch-me-if-you-can'.
Aston’s features are sharp eyes and lips that are always pulled up in a smile. His expression is quick to change based on his emotion, especially when annoyed. His red hair looks unnaturally bright, a flourish done through the application of chemical magic, but the turquoise pools that are his eyes are a natural feature. He uses make-up to enhance his features, wearing eye-liner and lip-gloss. He dresses in a loud and vibrant manner, often displaying a range of tattoos on his body which appear to periodically change their shape over a long time.
Event:Week Seven, Class Arc |Location:Academy of Thaumaturgy, Ersand'Enise
Tasses:
Translated from Torragonese
Dear Diary,
After getting sand in every nook and cranny for the past week, now we are back in the classes. The classrooms are very humid compared to the dry desert air, and we can feel the sweat clinging to our bodies.
It didn’t help that I had maths class in the morning. Was trying to avoid snoozing off and before long, resting my eyes involved heavy breathing and dropping my head to the desk. The teacher tried to be smart and catch me out, asking me to do percentages for RAS values, which were rather simple, though one Perrench boy was convinced he could rival Hugo with only a fifteen percent increase. He still didn’t understand how he couldn’t even break through to RAS 8 with that small of an increase.
Met Kaspar at luncheon again. He drew a picture of Varmkorv’s egg in charcoal. He is really obsessed with it and is fixated on using his native language, even around the picture. Pleased that he was able to get something tangible from the trip, he looked down whilst he was there. He is still eating his deconstructed sandwiches, so need to consider bringing a spare for him.
Specialisation classes went well. Supported Zemara in teaching the other students in Kinetic class. Got an opportunity to speak to Manfred von Hofmeister. Turns out he had a sister which disappeared, and let me know that Marceline is looking for her brother. He was tentative, but thanked me for the information.
Practised the splitting of chemicals into their constituent parts and re-arranging the formation. Already well versed in splitting, years of practising at home made sure of that, but formation was difficult. Managed to create a sweet smelling aroma of almonds, before being dragged away for not following correct safety guidance. Some people really do get hangry.
Parted with Zarina after class to attend to the horses. We managed to find a nice little corner in our respective accomodations rent. Gina looked happy and licked my hand when she saw me, searching for a tasty treat. She knows me too well already.
Pannes:
Translated from Torragonese
Dear Diary,
Thankfully Kaspar also turned up to drawing class with art supplies and having a reputation for painting watercolours covered for this school girl error. Still trying to adapt to the weather at the Academy as it disturbs my sleep, enough to make such a simple mistake. You would think Avincian class is simple, considering every subject is taught in the language. Imperator non supra grammaticos. Never forget: Parencii delenda est.
Took advantage of the luncheon and the free period to start having a preview at the set-up for the Society Faire and attend to some errands. After being told from a special birdy, decided to have a ‘spare’ Pasteis de Nata and offered to share it with Margot Maloise, the secretary in charge of student societies. Some small talk about the process, limits, pumpkinnickle society, and tasty treats. It seems she caught onto me, as she was unable to provide a favourite and rolled off a few options. Looks like we will need to add baking to the activities of the week.
Business class was interesting. Zarina, Ingrid and Trypano towered over Desmond, Kaspar, and myself. Got the opportunity to sit with Zazzy, though she used the whole period to discuss her fifty year business plan. It sounded very good, but Ingrid seemed disturbed by the conversation as she kept looking over, though she seemed heavily involved in her own discussions with Desmond. Kaspar and Trypano on the other hand appeared to not make a peep to each other, though their colour coordination of red made them look oddly familiar with each other. Perhaps Kaspar is into tall women?
Gina is always happy to see me. We had a nice ride together.
Orrades:
Translated from Torragonese
Dear Diary,
Ipte is my favourite god out of the five. Who wouldn’t want to live in a beautiful world?
Got to spend the afternoon with animals. My friends Marci, Zaz, and Yalen were there too. Got to tell Marci about her brother, and she informed me that he has already reached out to her, and planned to meet up. That was a cheering moment. Tried to talk to Ismette, the yasoi girl, but she appeared to be far too preoccupied with the animals to notice me. Are all Yasoi so rude? Or are they simply that different from us humans, despite our similarities in appearance.
Nothing has been as relaxing as brushing through Gina’s long white mane. The stress seems to just melt away.
Lendes:
Translated from Torragonese
Dear Diary,
Morning was statecraft sat next to the Feskan girl called Dory. She appeared to be very sweet like Spratz, though appeared to be lonely and down. Invited the other girl, Carmillia to join us as well. Her hair is like freshly fallen snow. The boys seem to huddle together, with Jomurr and Evander caught up in some heated exchange, whilst Benny was the third wheel. Introduced myself to the boys but they appeared to prefer not to have my presence around as they were heavily involved in their discussion. Dory was especially talkative once she opened up a little, and would have followed me into Music class if it wasn’t for her realising she had a free period and wanted to be elsewhere.
Finally got an opportunity to have a chat with Jocasta! She seemed to have been incredibly busy since she returned to the academy, and appeared reluctant to reach out. Growing concerned that she may have fallen out with me. Her fingers are light on the harp.
Also, Laella would be incredibly jealous, got to have a jam session with Leon Solitaire! No opportunities to actually talk to anyone, as we had to communicate through our music, and once class ended, Leon disappeared through three separate doors at the same time. He is a strange individual.
Kidnapped Jocasta for luncheon before she rolled away, it was great to meet up with her. She has been spending a lot of time with the other tethered that came from the refuge, supporting them settling in. She is really good at looking after her siblings like that. Offered to help out, but she turned down the offer as not being required currently, but kept me in mind.
The afternoon was spent meeting gathered for the new and improved master-apprentice group. It certainly looked as if it was made for me, it was even titled the “Lion’s Den” as it was overseen by Joshe Intaba. The group is led by the zeno, Hamir Zemana, a fellow sonic-using fireblood.
There is one girl in the group which really caught my attention, Seung Eun-Ji, though prefers to be addressed by her surname, Eun-Ji. She reminded me a lot of Maura in how she was dressed and presented herself. Her skirt was so gorgeous that it was near impossible to draw my eyes away from it. The intricate pattern of the white flowers upon the sky blue cloth was different in its manufacture from anything produced in Torragon. Made it my personal mission to befriend her.
Caught up with Silas and Manfred. Silas thinks he has found a buyer for his venom gland and was going to pitch with a hard sell. Manfred informed me about how it went with meeting Marci! Eun-ji seemed to be even more reserved when talking to the boys, perhaps she has a problem with groups.
So what was not to love about the group? Casii entered the room. Perhaps it is the Pentad’s way of testing me. However, we’re going to use the opportunity to befriend the Yasoi girl and show that those stereotypes about them are plain wrong and judgemental! Hopefully.
Told Gina about my new class and the friends being made there. She is happy for me.
On the way back to my room, got diverted by the queues to Ingrid’s dining party. She has this strange system of allocating everyone a slot to speak to her privately. It does help with making sure to spend a precious moment with the guests. She was very sweet, would like to speak to her more.
Blancho:
Dear Diary,
Plan to write in you today was side-tracked due to the following: They're coming to the academy. *scribbled mess underneath writing*
“Dear Ayla,
We hope that you remember that your attendance to the academy is to represent the interests of House Arslan and the Empire of Torragon. You are not there for your personal amusement.
We are not so far removed from having not learnt about your truancy, and we are most dissatisfied with this outcome. Your placement at the academy is being personally requested at the insistence of King Sancho, and you failed to pay the appropriate respect and homage to show our dedication to the crown which we were held personally responsible for. If not for the benevolence of the crown, we would recall you to Varrahasta and handle our affairs internally.
We have given you far too much free reign over these years, and your defiance won’t be tolerated for much longer. If it were not for your physical and mental feebleness, we would have put an end to this farce but we are afraid we might have spared you the rod for too long.
In this vein, we are coming to the academy to remind you of your duties. You are expected to have found us suitable accommodation within the city. We expect it to be situated by the academy, on green grounds, as the sole occupier, that is benefitting a family of your status.
By the time you have received this letter, we will have departed from Varrahasta. I trust you will have this matter resolved by the time we arrive.
For now,
Duque Duarte Arslan Casa Arslan del Torragon, Guardian del Varrahasta, Protector del Río Arapor, Warden del Reserva Natural de Arapor, Keeper de la Basílica la Llama Sagrada”
Ayla is going to be distressed over this letter. We would want you, her friend, to help her get the preparations in order to host the Arslan family. Those who are Ayla’s friends will have the opportunity to join a collab involving Ayla’s family from Varrahasta. There are no current IC rewards planned, but there may be room for opportunities depending on what you would want. Primarily this is simply an opportunity to take part in a fun RP.
Ayla's first week back at work and the shenanigans involved in that, making new friends along the way. Ayla got a letter from her father. Help!
Mole
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WhiteAngel25
