Open Chronicles A Diplomatic Ball

[Faramund]

'Don't threaten me with a good time,' Faramund warned Petra, his brow rising as she took his drink and downed it. Under different circumstances, he might have taken offense at that. Tonight, however, was a night for forgiveness. Plus there was more where that came from so it didn't matter much anyway. Turning to the table, Faramund picked up another wine, turned back to Petra.

''Sides, isn't that kind of... old hat?' he asked, recalling a certain day in a certain place with a certain dusky-skinned elf. 'I know you enjoyed yourself. I did, too. Still... sparring with you has its downsides.' He smiled at her, raised his cup to his lips. 'Like I said back then, I bruise easily.' A lie, but one he could live with.

Slipping through the crowd, Faramund walked with Petra to a more secluded corner of the ballroom. The Captain was still locked in conversation with one of the winged elves, and Selene... well, Maker knew where she'd gotten to. Probably lurking in the shadows somewhere, ready and waiting for some poor fool of a waiter to wander on by. Either that, or she was waiting for him. Not the most pleasant of thoughts, but it crossed his mind all the same.

Stepping onto one of the balconies overlooking the mountain range, Faramund made to lean on the railing. 'Not a bad view, huh,' he said, eyes taking in the dark knife of stone, stars and snow. 'A man could get used to this. Shame it's so bloody cold.' In truth, it wasn't so bad. Yet. But when true night fell, the knife would turn towards the Sky Elves' refuge. Faramund planned to be back inside and drunk by then, though, he would settle for either option.

'What was it like... the first time you took to the skies?' Faramund queried, feeling Petra brush alongside him as they stared out over the mountains together. 'Was it as exhilarating as I've heard people claim? Were you terrified?' He looked to her then, a warm glow in his eye. 'Or was it everything you'd hoped it would be?'

Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

His willingness to play along with her in all things was perhaps one of the most endearing things about her fellow Knight. Playful banter was never too far from their fingertips with the other. Which is why she so easily laughed and threw back a retort when he brought up their auspicious training day as she followed behind him. Yes, she was well aware that he had dropped her ass a handful of times in the dirt. But hell if she didn't give it right back to him. She smiled at the memory, and the bruises, as they serpentined through the effervescent crowd. The songweaver nodded briefly at Osuin when they passed him, threw a warm smile at Helena when their eyes met, and curiously noted the absence of Selene. Telling herself she would make sure to take the time to not only greet and dance with her friends, but with the people they had all come here to learn more about.

Goosebumps broke out on her skin when the night air hit them the moment the two Knights stepped out onto the balcony. She could feel him looking at her, but instead, she leaned her forearms against the railing and looked off into the cathedral of stone and ice around them. Lost in bittersweet thoughts until Faramund dragged her back with a pointed question.

"Honestly, I about shit myself." She laughed, yet even to her own ears it rang falsely; quickly dropping her smile after turning and noting the look in Faramund's eye. He obviously was not going to be accepting that as an answer, so she cleared her throat uneasily at his sudden astuteness and looked down to stare at the cradle of her hands and tried in vain to not fiddle nervously at his attention. They'd never discussed things of a serious nature before. At least not serious when it came to themselves. And although she was hesitant, she noted her relief in realizing she still felt safe. It was that in itself that convinced her to share this small piece of herself.

"When you live so long Fara." She began hesitantly—the echo of trilling violins serenading behind them. "All you see is more time alone along the road ahead of you. I'm told that investing yourself in your culture and finding a connection with the people you love is the most important part. It keeps you here."

She paused and peered at him through a curtain of black curls. Her eyes reflected the ghosts of old pain made fresh by memory.

"It's what keeps that time from feeling empty. More as an opportunity to experience life and wonder. And less of a prison sentence in an indiscriminately cruel world." She turned back to her fiddling, unsure if she was even making sense. Glad now for the cold that battled the sudden uncomfortable heat in her chest. "I don't involve myself much in the going ons of my people and my family anymore, you see. But... that is because I am proof that intelligence and wisdom are not bedfellows. And that is for reasons that are entirely my fault." She stared into the palm of her scaled hand, idly touching her scaled fingers with the other while she thought. Realizing with a bittersweet pang in her gut, that she had been looking for the scars she had accumulated in her youth from sparring with her sister. Where once was evidence that Nihkita existed, now were scales.

She swallowed past her words. Suddenly needing to tell him, needed someone to understand her besides a dragon who guarded every one of her secrets.

"I've been living in that void of time for... more years than I'd care to admit. And my life started to feel like a cage, I would do anything to get out. Whatever that meant..." A pause. "When I met Norvyk... there was... this moment when I truly thought he was going to kill me." A self-deprecating chuckle. "And it was the most peace I had felt since..." Her words failed her. Perhaps she wasn't ready to share that story with him just yet... But this was okay for now, she thought.

Recovering, she inhaled an icy breath before continuing, "So no, It wasn't the flight that I found most exhilarating. It was the instant and innately deep connection I had with a being so different from anything I've ever known. And yet, he chose me to be his friend? He found me worthy?" Another pause. "To answer your question as to what it felt like to fly for the first time?" Petra turned to him, her eyes intense with emotion as the last lament of a cello filled the air. "Believe me when I say, that it was everything. Everything that kept me here. I could fly anywhere and no one could catch me. It was what I needed to never be put in a cage of my own making again.

***************

He felt the conviction in her words and it dismantled his anger. The dragon stared for a long contemplative moment, his tail lashing thoughtfully. Apparently whatever he saw in Azlat's face was enough for him, for he gently settled onto the platform, hoping to demonstrate a more approachable front than a moment before.

He acquiesced to her and replied in a softer tone, "I don't know if many where you are from know this. Or if they've forgotten. But to be a dragon, especially a storm dragon, one must understand the importance of oral traditions. We are gifted orators. Capable of great philosophy that has crafted the foundations of many an altruistic entrepreneur. And to the people who listen, we give the gift of song. Thus, when my kind hears the tales of a people to the East. Who's bonds with dragons feel like a mockery of the sacred ones my kind guards? It is a bitter tonic to swallow. But you are not a rider, and therefore my indignant scorn does not belong at your feet."

Faramund Azlat Ushus Helena Selene

 

[Azlat Ushus]

From terrified, to indignant and then to bewildered, Azlat was now curious about this dragon who spoke with wisdom of her homeland. But he did not appear hostile, despite her attempts at provocation, and she hadn't the will to attempt to provoke him further.

Given the turn the conversation took, she suspected Norvyk's wisdom to be less accurate than she'd initially assessed, but only by a touch. The details he mentioned were a true enough description by her own account, mostly. It wasn't dirty, but no Thagretan would describe it in terms more positive than that. Further, Th͢anasis did not actually keep the dragons they rode in cages, but Azlat was unaware of their ways. Perhaps the cage was but a metaphor – regardless, she did not know enough to contest the notion, and was biased enough against Thanasis to believe it.

Which she would, until her next visit to the he Apostolic Library in Thagretis could reveal otherwise.

The confusion that had been the cause of their conflict was one of mistakenly conflated identity. Perhaps it did not seem apparent that the two central cities on Eastern Malakath held no relation to each other – both were primarily human, referred to their gods as dragons, and had similar sounding names. Azlat had to admit that it was understandable. To bear any wisdom at all of lands so recently rediscovered was remarkable enough.

“...East Malakath has two en̴tirely separate eastern settlemenţs, Thanasis and Thagretis. Thanasis is where the dr̷agon rid̵ers live. Thagretis is where I h̢ail from, and we've n͡othing to do w͢ith that pagan filth.” Azlat commented with a tone that turned bitter at the association. She held no offence, but felt it prudent to make the distinction clear lest Norvyk mistakenly refer to her as Thanasi. Which she'd much rather he'd not.

“Clearly, our sc̵orn has been mispl̴aced. Honestly, I arrive upon your lands as ig͡norant of your ways.” Azlat admitted, and it was so in no small part to her own initial mistake when she believed the elf to be Thanasi, too. With the threat of conflict lifted, the situation seemed delightfully ironic. It also served to frame the question that followed, should it be considered somehow vulgar.

“I make no request, and ask on̶ly out of curiosity, as I have wit͠nessed another dragon do the same.” Azlat spoke, giving a polite pause before continuing.

“Have you the ab̵ility to take the f͝orm of a human?”

Petra Darthinian

 

[Faramund]

Faramund listened along quietly as Petra spoke. Of cages, and long lives spent on the road, lonely and afraid. Faramund knew the feeling well. As a ranger of the Order, he spent most of his time scouting for trouble, or else taking the lay of the land. To be so well versed in the wylds was both a blessing and a curse. His curse, though, it was one he had learnt to live with.

It had taken quite some time to do so. After the destruction of the Sods-... after having everything he had ever known ripped right out from beneath him, well, it had been a struggle just finding a reason to keep going. But he had. Or rather, it had found him.

Not it, he thought, she.

Syr Merrycourt had been the one to find him after the Fall. Alone and injured and likely to perish, she had been the one to nurse him back to health. To give him a reason to keep going. The Knights of Anathaeum had meant nothing to him back then. Nor had they meant much in the weeks and months that had followed. Yet, slowly but surely, their purpose had become his purpose. Their values... his values.

'I can't claim to understand everything you've been through, Petra,' Faramund said, his gaze distant as he collected his thoughts. 'But I'm glad, y'know. That Norvyk found you worthy says a lot about your character, and for once, I find myself agreeing with the scaly bastard.' He smiled, though, there was little humour to be found in his gaze.

Glancing at Petra, the knight of dawn took a moment to drink her in. This was the first time she had cast aside the armour surrounding her heart, after all. Faramund wanted to witness her as she was. As she truly was. No jokes, no masks or small deceits. Just... her.

'Yours is a kind soul, I think.' He shook his head, tried again. 'No. No, yours is a good soul. I know this... because I know what evil looks like.' Frowning, the knight turned away quickly. He did not want her to see the anger bubbling up behind his eyes- nay, the self-hatred that had held him back all these years. 'People I love and care about keep calling me a "good man." Like that's supposed to mean something.'

He took a pull of his wine. But instead of sweetness, all he tasted was the sourness of his own thoughts. 'If they knew what I'd done, well-' He paused, catching himself. 'I'm sorry.' Faramund straightened up, took the time to calm himself down. 'All this dancing and laughter has got me babbling on like an idiot. You'll have to forgive my lapse in judgement.' Or my selfishness, he thought.

'Thank you for telling me all that. It's not every day I get to see this side of you.' He smiled sheepishly. 'I... like it. Honesty brings out the colour in your eyes, or some such nonsense- I don't know what I'm talking about.' Reaching out, the dawnling slipped an arm through Petra's, drew her close. Seeing off the rest of his wine, Faramund sighed, satisfied.

'I think... I think we could both benefit from a few more of these before the next heart-to-heart, wouldn't you agree?' He swallowed. 'Not that I don't enjoy talking to you, of course. But wine is my favourite sin next to... well, the other one.' Faramund grinned.

Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

Heavy was her chest the longer she listened to Faramund. His words settling into a soft place somewhere tucked into her ribcage, a place where she could protect them from further harm, if only he would give her more of them to hold. And even with his face turned away from her, she could see how tense he was, his shoulders braced against foes she couldn't see. Was it shame? Was it regret? Even anger, she wondered. How could she now show him that they were foes she would help him battle nonetheless?

That is if he ever let her close enough to do so.

Realizing how passionate her conviction to aid him was, surprised her. Petra told herself that this was something she would do for any of her friends. Which, yes, was true. But when her cheeks ran hot at his genuine compliment, stumbled as it was, and yet hotter still when he tucked his arm into hers. She could feel a few of her walls crumble inside and she knew it for the troubling foreshadowing it was. A kind of surrender she was not prepared to give ground to.

Although the man's attempt at making her laugh after such raw confessions, was not lost on her. And to show her appreciation in the language they spoke to the other, she tried and failed to elbow him, a cautiously wicked smile on her lips. The rising applause behind them was a reminder that there were even still people in the ballroom, for a moment, she had forgotten.

And it was in her reluctance to leave this moment they had built, that she squeezed his arm gently where they were connected, drawing comfort from his strength. And despite the fact that he was only a touch taller than she, it meant their eyes were almost level when she offered him a tender admonishment, her breath between them a soft cloud from the cold. "You know... I see that you do that. This facade." She struggled to maintain eye contact from the weight of his attention. "I just can't figure out why. Why you give this front of being just a big oaf of a man." She half-heartedly gestured towards him. "When you are so much more than that." Nervously, she tucked a curl behind a pointed ear. "It's like... you don't want people to see the wealth of wit that you harbor. Like you don't want them to see you. And I want to know why. Why hide behind a facade where people look at you less? When they would be so lucky to see more of you? Do you think so little of their opinion?" She swallowed before whispering. "Of mine?"


******************************
How interesting... He thought to himself. He was starting to see where the inconsistencies in their experiences lay. And he was intrigued to pick at the threads until they unraveled and showed the true tapestry of things. Norvyk was nothing if not a dragon of incorrigible curiosity. Which included revealing and mending the holes in his own knowledge.

And so he listened voraciously to the woman, until she plucked up the courage to ask him a rather odd question, that left him all the more aware of his ignorance to the goings on of her strange home.

His tail gave away his surprise in that it lashed the ground in wide arcs. Otherwise, his face remained stoic while he mulled over such a notion. Dragons becoming people? On purpose? What would even be the point, let alone the desire? Never had he heard of such an ability amongst his kin, and if they could, they kept it well hidden.

Readjusting his position on the platform, Norvyk replied, "This is the first I've heard of such a thing, let alone been capable of." His neck snaked down so that his mighty crowned head was closer to hers. "But I would like your name to go along with this story of this transfiguring dragon, Priestess."

Faramund Azlat Ushus

 

[Azlat Ushus]

Azlat nodded, though the answer was hardly what she expected. By his self identification as a storm dragon, she supposed there were numerous types of winged, four legged serpents roaming the northern continents. The deceitful pretender who'd assaulted her city had disguised himself as a human until a dispersal of magic revealed his true form. Norvyk was clearly of a different kind, one which she didn't view with such contempt.

“I have seen it. The form was a di͞sguise taken to conceal himself for an ̷a͡t͝tac͝k͞ upon our city. He wrought de̸ath and d͘͠estruction when asked to display manners.” Azlat spoke clear the cause for her trepidation towards dragon-kind. Between the pretender and the dragons of Thanasis, Azlat had not regarded outsider dragons well. Norvyk was the first of which she didn't view with ire.

“But of course, intr̴oductions are in order. I am Azlat Ushus, priestess of the Draconic Order of Thagretis.” Azlat answered authoritatively, yet amicably. She had expected conflict, that she found an opportunity to learn even more of the outside world was an unexpected blessing. She had yet to learn his name, and awaited Norvyk's introduction with a posture that was much more at ease.

Petra Darthinian

 

[Faramund]

Faramund felt his mouth go dry. 'What?' His voice was bitterly cold as he turned to regard the woman stood beside him. 'You think I don't value your opinion... and the opinions of people I have come to call friend?' He scoffed, as if to show just how absurd her words were. They weren't. 'Please, don't insult me so! I hold you -and everyone else in the Order- in high regard. It's-' Me I'm not so sure about, he finished, his expression full of guilt.

Looking away, Faramund breathed deep of the mountain air. Cool air filled his lungs, helped snuff the flame of emotion threatening to burn him from the inside out.

'Look,' he said, setting his empty cup down on the balcony railing. 'Can we talk about something else? Anything else. Please.' Not daring to meet Petra's eye, lest he betray his own thoughts, the big dawnling instead turned his gaze to sky. 'I've had such a lovely time here so far. With you. Because of you. I'd hate to spoil it by discussing... this.' He waved his hand dismissively in an attempt to rid himself of the sudden worry he felt.

Would Petra think less of him for deflecting? Would she see past his poor acting skills, and so witness Faramund in his true form?

Maybe. Possibly.

So many outcomes, so few I wish to face. In truth, he could have answered her questions, and in doing so he would have been able to offload some of the stress weighing on his soul. Alas, the truth hurt. Both himself and, had he spoken up, Petra. So, instead, he shot a glance over his shoulder, hiding his face from the she-elf and her concern. Honestly, did she have to look at him with such compassion in her eyes? It was sickening, really.

Faramund felt sick.

'Suppose we should get back to the ball. Places to go, people to see and all that.' He smiled, but it was a poor reflection of the real thing. Funnily enough, it looked exactly like something the false him would do. He turned to Petra, shrugged his shoulders as if it was just another day. 'I'm sorry,' he said, eyes shimmering in the torchlight.

For once, he meant it.

Petra Darthinian

 

[Petra Darthinian]

Sometimes being brave meant having to face the dark parts of your friends. And sometimes that courage looked like facing it with them, even when they refused to.

But it also meant having the humility, and the emotional intelligence to know when it wasn't the right time. And now, she told herself, now, was not it.

"Do you know what my mother did for me whenever I was overwhelmed?" She ventured in a casual tone, looking to take some of the weight of their conversation from his shoulders, for he suddenly looked very tired and her fingers itched to soothe the worry lines from his handsome face. "She used to sing to me. In fact, there was a song she would sing after I would have a particularly nasty fight with my sister. As sisters will." The ghost of a bittersweet smile. "There's a part that has stuck with me all these years. And silly as the lyrics might be, now that I'm grown, I still find comfort in them when I need it."

The symphonic notes of the orchestra were still trickling out onto the balcony, and although it wasn't the melody she was used to, she melted into it with her own voice as she began to sing. Her voice began as a rich alto, smooth and inviting like warm honey over fresh bread. It was a voice made for love ballads and bawdy taverns. Yet still, she managed to sing with a depth of feeling that seemed to come from the very core of her being. As all songweavers do.

"When the world is loud and you can't hear your voice,

When the doubts and fears, they leave you with no choice,

Just take a breath and trust your heart to lead,

And you'll find the strength that you need."

A breath while she watched the stars and marveled at how small she really was.

"And even when the stars seem far away,

And the clouds block out the light of day,

Just remember that you're never alone,

You have the love that will guide you home."

She trailed off, her voice softening to a whisper as she finished the song.

The balcony felt less cold between them and she reached out to squeeze his hand, saying nothing, but trying to convey that she understood.

A quick searching glance before she slipped past him and re-entered the ballroom, a pleasant and engaging smile already pasted on her face. None the wiser.

And although she may not have been able to take away his worries, she hoped she was at least able to offer him a moment of peace. And that he wasn't alone.

******************************

“But of course, intr̴oductions are in order. I am Azlat Ushus, pries͢tess of the Draconic Order of Thagretis.”

Came her acquiescence. Ah, so it was Thagretis and not the other city. He could see why now she had been willing to spit so much venom in the face of his own initial ire. He imagined, should he have been in her shoes, he wouldn't have taken kindly to someone mistaking him for someone that filled him with such disdain. Then again, there was no mistaking him for someone else. He snorted at his own deserved arrogance. He was, after all, a dragon. Which is why he found the story of this other dragon wearing the skin of mortals in an attempt to conquer them, so... distasteful. Why?! Not that he condoned the siege, but if violence had been their intent from the beginning, why even waste their time with such a facade?

Coming back to himself, he gave the Priestess the slightest of nods. They were here on grounds of diplomacy after all.

"Well met, Azlat Ushus. You may know me as Norvyk, storm dragon of the Iron Coast. Son of Kilhdur and dragon to Petra Darthinian, sworn Knight of Anathaeum." If one noticed his obvious preening and arched neck, he would never admit to it. "Tell me, what has you so far from your home and gracing the halls of these great mountains?"

Faramund Azlat Ushus

 

[Wesley Argent]

When the pair broke away from their kiss Wesley couldn't help but look around sheepishly. He was not used to such unabashed behavior but it was what he liked about her.
When her flirting became more direct it began to feel as if his legs were turning into jelly.

"Well..uh - maybe I could show you around."
The the beauty commented on his strength and Wesley could not help but puff his chest out a little.

The music began once more and he could feel Abriella make an attempt to lead him. Leaning down he whispered into her ear in a low voice. "You can when we do another type of dance, not this one." Straightening up, he held her body so tightly his there was not enough room to for even a ghost and lead her around the floor once more.

As the song came to an end he dropped Abriella into a low dip and kissed her lightly before leading her off the dance floor back over to her captain with his hand on her lower back.

With more people able to hear their conversation his words turned more formal. "Excuse me my lady," Welsey kissed the top of her hand lightly. "But I must go check in in my queen and the others." He flashed her a big tooth smile before walking off into the crowds like a love-sick goofball.

Abrielle Huxley

 

[Esmeralda]

As the monarchs made their way back to the ballroom Esmerelda tried to move the conversation onto light political matters,

"Have you had time to think over trading options for our alliance Princess and if the leathers will surfice?"
When Princess Gwynnestri and Queen Esmerelda had made aquintances at Esmes own ball their talk of becoming allys had been less formal then one would expect and after Gwynns depature they had communicated once or twice though letters.

Esme had suggested a trade of leather as Routé produced some of the best quality there side of the world. A military alliance alone would be ideal but she doubted it would be enough to forge a strong bond. Whilst the Routen warriors were good on land and at sea, the sky elves had the advantage of air.

Gwynnestri Ravaneiros

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

Gwynnestri continued walking back down the stairs. She was grateful when Esmeralda changed the subject. Politics and diplomacy she could do. "I think they will be perfect," Gwynn replied. The dragoons would need flying leathers, since flying with armor was too heavy, and Gwynn had seen for herself that the Routen leather was of the highest quality.

"What do you think of our ore?" Gwynn continued. In the spine, many valuable minerals could be found, gold being one that was particularly well guarded by the Sky Elves. Gold could buy luxury items and also other highly valued items such as arms. Gwynn had to be careful how she offered it, however, since it was highly likely the Knights would ask for gold as well.

Once the pair had reached the floor outside the ballroom, Gwynn would slow her pace before walking in. The night had only just begun, and she still had many to talk to. "Have you heard from or seen the priestess Azlat Ushus?" Gwynn asked, turning to Esme, as if the conversation on the eyrie hadn't happened.

 

[Azlat Ushus]

Azlat listened to his introduction, through she understood little beyond his actual name. A blank look would be upon her face, while the dragon appeared prideful enough to imply that she should. Yet she knew little of geography or history of this recently discovered world.Azlat simply nodded along as Norvyk introduced himself, wondering where these places were.

He next asked what had brought her so far from her home. Her true purpose in venturing beyond Thagretis had been to confront the world that had so violently introduced themselves. Having lived her life in such an insulated region, the sudden arrival of an entirely new world was jarring. Where Thagretis held ordered structure, the expansive pagan world revealed to her was violent and chaotic in comparison. Her main priority had been sorting out which of the northerners posed a threat to Thagretis. The city's attack was her first encounter with outsiders, and the harrowing first impression had left a lasting mark that stained her view of them. Dragons, or those claiming to be them were the forefront of her concern – trust was difficult to give, when her families lives had been among the price paid.

Such a truth was beyond what she could give. To be so candid could not bode well.

“I a͢rrive on a mission of dipl͜omacy. The world has opened up to us, and we mu̡st meet it.” Azlat announced in response, and it was as honest as it was vague. She could not live in fear of the world beyond her borders. She could not sleep at night with such an unknown threat lurking beyond their lands. Arethil held much to be fearful of. It contained enemies they did not know of, and malevolence beyond what she'd imagined. Yet not all pagans were hostile Azlat had met enough whom were amicable. Route was at the forefront, and there had been others as well.

Norvyk was yet another curious case that betrayed her initial assumptions.

Petra Darthinian

 

[Esmeralda]

Esme found ore to be a good trade, the Routens were not a mining people so this would trade would assist in both the resources and saving coin if they were to buy it elsewhere.
"I am more the happy with the trade. I shall have my council draw up a formal document and send it to you."

As they reached the entrance to the ballroom, Kizzen and Wesley made their way out to join them. "I have not seen her since our arrival Princess. Myself and my men well have a look around the grounds nearby." Esme took Gwynnestris hand once more and gave it a light squeeze, followed by a genuine smile. "Enjoy your evening."

Esmerelda left Gwynn and Reynard as the entrace as she and her men when in another direction to find Azlat.

"Well? Anything interesting happened while Koa and I were away?"

"Wesley basically lay down with some women from the Knights of Anatheum on the dance floor," announced Kizzen without a beat which earned him a sharp elbow in the ribs. "Shut up!"

Esmerelda whipped around now, her eyes filled warning. "I am telling you now Argent, if you do as much as put a sour look on that girls face...there will be hell to pay."

"Esme I..."
"It is Queen Esmerelda," Whilst Esme and Wesley were childhood friends and they spoke as such only amongst friends. They remained in a foreign land and a sign of strong familiarity could be cause of unwanted rumours.
"And secondly, we are planning on building a relationship with their Order and you trampsing around with on of their members could jeprodize our plans." She walked closer to him now, her voice dangerous. "Either you swear to me, your queen, that you will not upset her otherwise I suggest you leave her be until I have sent an Emissary to Astenvale."

She ended there and turned around, the small group continuing in silence on their look out for the Priestess.

Gwynnestri Ravaneiros Azlat Ushus

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

Gwynn gave Esmeralda a small but genuine smile as the queen departed, taking Koa with her and leaving Gwynn and Reynard alone outside the ballroom. A soft breeze with unknown origins gently tossed some lose strands of Gwynn's hair about her face as she once more turned to look back up at Reynard.

She could read the concern in his gaze and she knew he had noticed something wasn't right. Gwynn was silent for a while. She could not find the right words to say; there was plenty she wanted to tell Reynard, but none of it acceptable. Both of them knew the other had thoughts racing through their head.

"I..." Gwynn started softly, failing to complete the sentence. "I don't think I want to go back in just yet," she finally managed, forcing herself to hold Reynard's gaze. "Will you walk with me back to the eyrie?"

Perhaps it was a foolish request, foolish for them to spend time together alone with so many foreign diplomats here who could make their own assumptions, diplomats that might believe the Sky Elves' throne weak if the heir fell in love with and married a common man. But Reynard had a way of making her forget the rules, and in this moment, she dearly wished for a moment of peace with him, right or wrong.

Reynard De Eramant

 

[Reynard De Eramant]

Reynard wasn't necessarily happy to see the queen leave, but he was glad to not have to stand so straight and proper with other royalty around. He still held himself properly, but was able to relax his shoulders a bit and let the tension drain from his muscles. He always relaxed best when it was just him and Gwynn anyways, so it was an easy task to accomplish.

It wasn't long before they were looking at eachother, gazed meeting and their hearts trying desperately to communicate what their mouths refused to. He was used to maintaing eye contact with her now, it was impossible to do anything but. Her gaze drew him in like few other things ever could. He couldn't help but sorry though, he could tell there was something on her mind and wasn't happy that he couldn't help ease whatever worry she seemed to have.

He didn't have the chance to speak before she broke the heart hammering silence first. He listened intently to her, as he always did when she spoke and took in every word like it would be the last. Her request was a surprising one. Simply on the surface perhaps, but very clearly something with more meaning due to their location and the setting.

It was likely foolish to accept. He was her bodyguard yes and to be alone with her was hardly unfamiliar but there was something different about the way she asked, or perhaps it's his imagination. To be alone with her now, during the middle of an important diplomatic ball. Surely she had more important things to do, more important people to speak to and yet? She wished to be with him alone, even if only for a small time.

Just as he was going to decline, to refuse such a tempting offer in light of professionalism and responsibility, just as he was going to gently remind her that tonight was far too important to be taking beautiful walks with her, different words entirely tumbled out of his mouth. An instance of his heart reminding his brain that he wasn't quite as serious a man as he liked to thing, not so cold as he might wish to be in order for all this to be so much simpler. This time his heart won the battle and he smiled despite himself. "To the eyrie or anywhere you wish to talk, I'll be glad to walk beside you." He said softly, more meaning behind the words than even perhaps his heart had intended.

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

Gwynn wished she knew why Reynard looked so worried but if she knew him at all, it was likely because he could tell she was worried- and that only made her feel worse. She took a slow deep breath as she waited for him to respond and by the time he had, her posture had eased and her muscles had relaxed. She told herself it would all work out in the end repeatedly, and that winding her arm through his and walking back the way they'd come alone was not a bad thing.

Her doubts quieted, she began to realize just how warm Reynard's arm was against her bare arm, and how her chin was at the perfect height to rest on his shoulder. She was tempted to twine her fingers with his and would have, had they not reached the eyrie once more to Yvan stomping around and making a fuss. Either too cowardly or too brazen to take her arm from his, Gwynn led them past Gavne and Yvan and through the narrow pathways that made up the eyrie. The stone above them combined with the darkening purple sky cast shadows around them, making it difficult to make some things out. A breeze cooled the back of her neck, easing the heat she hadn't realized was there.

She paused, turning so that she faced Reynard, her left arm still wrapped around his right arm, bringing them quite close together. Gwynn looked up at him. The shadows made it hard to read his expression but the moon lit up one side of him, casting his face in a silvery glow. The next words she spoke without thinking on them first, and she did so with surprising calmness.

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

 

[Reynard De Eramant]

Reynard was well prepared to walk at her side as normal. Close enough to defend her should someone decide to attack but far enough to ward off any undue comments on the closeness. He had learned the right distance to maintain to keep prying eyes minding their own business. And yet despite that habit, he didn't fight Gwynn even an inch when she wrapped her arm through his. Not a sound of disagreement or a pointed look, just a soft smile spreading across his face.

They hadn't been this close very often, they both avoided it for obvious yet unvoiced reasons. To be so close to eachother, to feel one another's warmth like this, was to invite feelings and thoughts that truly threatened to swallow them whole. And yet despite that, Reynard recognized an ache in his chest. It took less than a moment to realize it was a deep ache of longing. He hadn't realized just how much he missed this feeling, this closeness until their arms were intertwined. It was an ache he never noticed, but was always present any moment his eyes met hers. The desperate need to reach out and hold her.

Reynard didn't dare speak, for fear that his heart would once again take control of his words. It was easy to do so as Gwynn was just as silent. They walked together in silence, but the emotions he felt in his chest made his ears buzz regardless. They passed by Yvan making a racket as he usually did. He looked to Yvan, happy for anything to distract him from what was currently happening.

However the distraction didn't last long and soon enough the two of them were entirely alone. Away from the crowd, the ball and away from guards of even the eagles. They were in a narrow path, dark but lit just enough by the moon overhead to see. He expected to be taken farther but they suddenly stopped, and Gwynn turned to him. He felt his heart thump harder in his chest as he took in the sight of the moonlight bouncing off the side of Gwynns face. Even in the half lit moonlight she was beautiful beyond words.

When she spoke, her words did nothing to calm him. The buzz in his ears lifted into a roar. His mind swirled with thoughts and feelings and memories as he processed the question. Reynard had never enjoyed any luck in romance. Not from any shortcomings on his or anyone else's part, but the fact he travelled more often than he didn't and it himself in constant danger made it hard to find like-minded partners. As well as that, he'd never really felt that spark. The heat that rises up your neck to your cheeks and ears. The swirling tornado of emotion that took residence in your chest. The joy filled fog that took over your brain. He'd never fallen in love, not truly.

Of course, that answer would've only applied before he arrived at the kingdom of the sky elves. It would've only been a sufficient explanation long before he'd first met that wonder that was Gwynnestri. It was hard to admit, both to himself and even more so to her. He now realized, despite trying to push it down and away and bottle it away that had indeed fallen in love. He couldn't help but appreciate the situation he got himself into. A common man, a common mercenary, fallen in love with an honest to God's princess. It was the kind of thing you wrote books about, but this was no book. He was standing in front of her, eyes trapped in her gaze, only now fully aware of the reality he faced.

It would be easier to look away and say no. To deny himself the satisfaction of telling her and deny her the truth. It would likely be much easier for both of them to never acknowledge it. Things could only be made more difficult by admitting it right?

To hell with that. To hell with bottling his emotions and acting professional. He was a mercenary not a knight. He became a mercenary because of the freedom and the choice it gave him, and yet he was trying in vain to limit himself against his own feelings? Reynard had a limit, and he reached it in this moment. What was the point of living free, if he wasn't free to pursue love at its truest? That was truly no freedom at all.

The roar in his ears settled and all was quiet to him again. His hearth thudded against his chest but slower now. He smiled so wide it threatened to split his face wide open. His eyes shone with a light that had never before been present. He knew very well what he was feeling. "Only once actually. I believe it was the same day I took my first flight." A statement that would mean nothing to anyone except Gwynn.

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

It took Gwynn a moment to realize what she had said, and she was grateful for the shadows that hid her reddening face. Her breathing picked up and her heart beat faster the longer the silence between them dragged on. This was it- this was how she was going to ruin her relationship with Reynard. She would discover everything had only been out of obligation and as soon as that treacherous and beautiful word was spoken, he would back away and rebuild the walls she had begun to take down. Because a mercenary and princess in love? Surely there could be no happy ending to that tale.

Love was a strange thing. It snatched you up by the heart and made everything else dim in comparison to that one person, the person that made you feel such strong things and put in you a longing and desire beyond compare. Every day, it served as a reminder of why you walked the earth and what you breathed and bled for. Love both grounded you in humanity and yet also gave you a taste of magic and dreams.

When Reynard finally spoke, Gwynn thought her heart might have exploded. My first flight. She remembered that day very vividly, and how close she had come to kissing him. How close she was to kissing him now, with only an inch of space between their bodies. Earlier she had forced herself to meet his gaze but now she was incapable of looking away.

"Reynard..." she said her voice soft yet full of unspoken emotion. Love. She was in love with him, she realized. He hadn't said the words but she knew for certain now that he was in love with her. "I love you," Her voice was somehow even softer so that no one but him could hear. Up here, they were alone, with only the eagles to keep them company. Up here, they could confess forbidden feelings and lean into each other and forget the rest of the world, pretending to be only a simple boy and girl in love.

 

[Reynard De Eramant]

One could be forgiven for not believing in the power of love. It was something not everyone has the opportunity to experience and few ever truly understood. Reynard had always wanted to fall in love and be loved in the same measure. To feel ids gravitational pull and to willingly never leave it's warm embrace. Love was an all powerful force that could drive away even the worst emotions. It was a truth he always suspected but now knew to be undeniable. Love was all too real, and it's gravity was pulling him farther and farther down.

The way Gwynn looked at him could've stopped his heart if he wasn't being fueled on adrenaline. There was no better view on this earth than the gaze of her kind eyes on him, nothing that could set his chest on fire quite like the way she spoke his name.

Reynard found himself tense slightly when she spoke his name, out of nothing but anticipation and perhaps a slight bit of fear. The worst possible scenarios didn't play out in his head this time though. His thoughts were still as he waited for what was only a moment, but felt like an eternity.

There truly are no words to describe how he felt or what he thought the moment she uttered those dangerous, fateful words. The world stopped turning, the sky was still and all was silent except for her words and the sound of his heart beating against his ribs. She said she loved him. A couple words with more impact than thousands could hope to match. This princess and heir to the throne of a kingdom he hadn't even known about before arriving, had admitted to being in love with him. A mercenary, a wandering warrior who held no allegiance and no home. A man without family or nobility or riches. He must've died on the trip up to the spine and was now in some sort of dreamlike afterlife because it all felt so surreal. Was he really this lucky?

He wasn't going to question it. Not as every neuron in his brain fired on overdrive. There was no rush in the world quite like this. No second guessing, no questioning and no reminding himself of what was proper. He had lost all sensibility to the raging tides of honest to God's love.

Reynard leaned closer, an inch, half an inch, now less than. His body was on autopilot as were his words. "And I love you." Reynard was less than an inch away, so close that even the slightest sway would bring them together. Just as he was going to commit he was interrupted. A nearby eagle made a sound. A sneeze or a squawk, it hardly mattered which. The sudden noise broke Reynard out of his reverie and he brought his face back, widening the distance between their lips and it truly felt like it would've hurt less to stick a dagger in his heart than to tear his lips away from hers.

A chasm of longing was felt. He knew just how close he had been, how tantalizing the prospect of kissing her truly was. He left a piece of his soul between them, and found that despite himself he planned to take it back sooner than later. He wouldn't be able to resist that urge forever, and he found himself struggling to stay sane under the weight of the moment.

It wasn't a choice so much as instinct. He was used to holding back and sudden noise sent a ripple of fear through his body. It wasn't fear for himself of course, it was fear for her. For Gwynnestri. He feared for the woman he loved. As an heiress, as the future for the kingdom only now starting to truly open up to the world, as a person with so much responsibility and expectation, he feared what such a relationship could do to her. There was no doubt that there were very few who would truly understand and accept their love for eachother.

She was in an entirely separate class from him, didn't that mean she could never truly be with him? Wouldn't it be easier to end things now before drawing eachother in too close. Surely she'd have to give up on what they had someday, to maintain her position? The art of noble politics wasn't one he had yet mastered, but he knew well what nobility thought of relations with common folk.

Despite these worries he didn't untangle their arms. He didn't move away and start walking in a different direction. He stayed, standing in front of her, still close but not so close that he couldn't fight the urge to kiss her, which as he was now discovering was the hardest fight of his entire life.

Despite all the worry and the fear Reynard still smiled as he always did, now bolstered by the realization of mutual love. "As much as this is now the greatest moment and day of my life, I fear we can't stay gone from the ball too long. The hostess can't very well be absent from her own event right?" His words were of course betrayed by his body, as his feet refused to move from their firmly planted position.

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

The stars could have gone out and the world could have ceased spinning and Gwynn wouldn't have noticed. She was losing herself in Reynard's eyes- they were such a bright blue with a light that rivaled the stars. When he spoke, putting into words what he had hinted at moments earlier, her knees quite nearly gave out. Her heart pounded in her ears as he leaned closer and her gaze dropped to his lips. Gods, she wanted to kiss him. So when an eagle sneezed and he halted and leaned back, Gwynn's heart twisted as if a knife was buried there. She nearly reached for him to bring him closer to her once more, but doubts flooded in, breaking the spell.

Had he decided he didn't want to kiss her? Did he have some hidden doubts of his own? Gwynn subconsciously put a hand over her heart as if she could stop it bleeding. But their arms remained tangled and he didn't take a step back.

She supposed his explanation made sense. It would not do for the hostess of the extremely important highly diplomatic ball going on below to be kissing her bodyguard. As much as it pained her, she drew her arm from his, the breeze suddenly cold on her skin. If she remained close to him for much longer she knew she would not be able to refrain from kissing him. Even with his arm in hers, she didn't trust herself not to imagine what it might like with his arms around her.

She gave him as strong a smile as she could muster, made brighter by the fact that she was in love. "No, she can't," Gwynn replied. She began to walk slowly back the way they came, keeping pace with Reynard and keeping also the respectful distance that was expected of them. Already plans were forming in her head of how she could be with him despite everything. How she could love him despite the forces that might pull them apart.

When they reached the floor the ball was on once more, she paused a moment to take a deep breath, schooling her features into that of an elegant, gracious princess. She longed to look at Reynard before she walked in but she knew that if she did she would be reminded of the way he looked at her as he spoke words that changed everything and nothing all at once.

 

[Reynard De Eramant]

Reynard had been the one to disengage first. It was his choice to pull away from the kiss and end the moment there. He had pulled back but stayed with arm linked in hers. Despite this he still felt the pang of sadness in his chest when she withdrew her arm from his. It was like a sudden pit being made in his heart from her absence. It took every ounce of self control not to reach back out and wrap her in his arms, to feel her warmth against him was all he wanted.

Despite this he knew they couldn't linger much longer, and Gwynn seemed to agree with his reasoning. She had an important even to continue hosting and that, unfortunately, had to take priority. Reynard followed her back to the ball dutifully, helping to maintain a distance that wouldn't catch any straying gazes. He fell back into the role of bodyguard, the very same thing he had been since his arrival, easily. Though his body obeyed and he seemed normal on the surface, there was no doubt that his heart lay somewhere in her eyes. He'd just have to get it back later.

As they stood before the ballroom floor, taking a moment to ready themselves for the difficult task of reentering the event after everything that transpired, Reynard took a quick glance at Gwynn. Quite possibly a mistake as he knew his gaze lingered a second longer than it reasonably should. He couldn't help but respect how she practically transformed. From a girl in love with her bodyguard, to the princess of the sky elves. Reynard knew well the difference in how she carried herself when in and out of official business. It was a sight to behold, obviously a learned skill from many years of practice. She fell into her role naturally.

He was looking forward now, busying himself with the task of taking note on every single person and object within sight. Distracting himself with escape routes and possible methods of attack. He had to fall into the role of bodyguard the same way Gwynn did as princess. It was the only way he could keep his mind off the feelings screaming for attention.

Reynard smiled. It wasn't an uncommon thing, he could be found smiling far more often than not. Though he took his job seriously, he himself wasn't so severe. He smiled constantly, trying to be happy and kind as often as he could. This time however his smile wasn't one of habit or politeness, no this one carried something far more profound. Something that only the woman standing next to him would understand. It was time to return to the ball.

 

[Gwynnestri Ravaneiros]

As difficult as it was, Gwynn walked forward into the ballroom. Immediately people were coming up to her complimenting her, praising her, and asking questions. All of it was superficial and Gwynn responded with grace and a firm kindness. While Esmeralda was looking for Azlat, Gwynn figured she might as well talk to others in the meantime.

She slowly weaved her way through the crowd of people not on the dance floor, until she reached where the Captain of Dawn and Caliane Runë were talking by a window. Perfect; she could talk to both of them at the same time.

"Good evening," she said. "I hope you are enjoying yourselves,"

Helena

 

[Esmeralda]

It did not take Esmerelda and her men long to find Azlat, though the scene before then was something not one of the four where prepared for.

Rounding a corner each of them froze at the sight. There was the Priestess they had come to know and love staring down a damn dragon.

"Fuck."
"Fuck."
"Fuck."
"Fuuuuuuuucccckkkkk."
The last one most defiently Wesley.

Each of them stood mid stride like statues, not exactly certain of what to do.
"Koa....." Esme whispered, as if seeking reassure that she wasn't hallucinating.
"Its real my Queen."

"Hey a....Kizzen," Wesley side eyed his comrade whilst making a failing attempt to keep on of them on the dragon. "Why don't you just throw your leg off the pedistal? Maybe it likes to play fetch?"
A stupid notion, but the only idea the red head had - he was answered by a wierd grumble.

"Azlat!" Esme called out, "We are going to get you out of there okay?" Her words were shakey but she did her best to believe in them.
Slowly, each of member of the group reached into their furs. Though it was not like the small, concealed weapons would help them much against the fiery beast.

"On my count, we split up. I don't care what you do but draw its attention away until I can grab The Priestess." Taking a deep breath, Esme readied to give her command.

Azlat Ushus Petra Darthinian

 

[Ophelia Tirion]

Ophelia continued to meander around the ballroom, on the prowel for something to do besides bloodywell dance. There was her captain and Abrielle off to one side and the rest of The Knights Of Anatheum off having what she could only assume to be a jovial time.

So all in all, she remained bored out of her brilliant mind.

The jug she had been relaying on for the last hour was empty so Ophelia moved further along the line, admiring some of the decor. Lovely centerpieces and brilliantly made candle stick, blowing out the flame of one she decided to examine it. First the obvious sport then she turned it over to see the base. Would fetch a good price if the order turned out not to be a good fit....I'll come back for that later. Popping it back down next to platter on she went, giving the same analogy to cutlery and other trinkets she didn't think anybody would miss.

 

[Helena]

Helena smiled, and hid her laugh behind her cup of wine. The effervescence of the drink, tickled her nose, and she watched as the young hearts orbited towards each other.

She felt a pang of something in her chest as he smile softened. Regret? Jealousy? She shook the thought away.

I've heard many stories of the Knights...The fiery haired Avariel spoke, and her voice pulled at Helena's attention. Kind words, that came with a motion of excitement. Helena's smile warmed anew.

"We do what we can," she admitted. "Though oft it feels like its hardly enough," she looked down into the pool of her drink, as if an answer to the world's woes would be there upon its dark surface. Her eyes came up, and she looked to the winged woman. "And you strike me as one who knows of what I mean, Lady Caliane," her eyes cast out to the land that stretched beneath the grand tower. "One who is no stranger to the darkness that hides beneath this world's light,"

Caliane Ruinë