Open Chronicles The Return Of The Queen

[Kiyari]

Spoiler: Eyes and Ears

As their Mistress gave her permission for them to stay behind and made her leave for the temple Kiyari would simply remain upon the dais. Listening, watching, timidly hunched and not speaking a word unless spoken to. Information was what they were there for, not to be seen, not to be heard, not to be a person, but oooooh was it all so boring and nonsensical.

Politics. Politics. Politics.

Even as Kiyari stared at the floor, expression utterly dull, did they tuck away mentions of places and people. Empress Medja. Xeraphine of Alliria. Amol-Kalit. Alliria. Like picking fruit from a thorny bush did Kiyari pluck out these bits of useful information from the bluster and displays of power. The size of armies, the grandeur of merchant fleets, the languishing of consorts and Kiyari half-expected the two women in the Valsharess's presence to begin listing off battles they had won in the next breathe, or fondle their goblets before making some sly remark that he could only barely follow.

His face scrunched as if he'd bitten into a rotten grape for only a heartbeat before settling back into dull passivity.

This was all much too complicated. Why not simply fight one another to display dominance? Blades, spells, tearing flesh, evisceration; those made statements. Ambition unchecked, that was what the umbral pits had whispered to them, as a virtue. Power. Though, he supposed numbly, power had many forms. It did not mean he had to like the chortling and proverbial breast-swinging going on.

But as the conversation turned toward retiring for the evening and other mundane matters Kiyari would simply walk away into the crowd of nobility. Small, hunched, dark as a living shadow, hopefully unnoticed, to gather what further information he could.​

 

[Sazalam]

"Good, I still have much prepared."
Sazalam replied smiling over his own shoulder as he slipped his shirt back on. He was tired, the best kind of tired. The kind that made your muscles sing to you with every movement.

"What?"
His fingers found the spot on his collar, the dark mark of want that gave a pleasing ache when he pressed it.

"I wouldn't accept an apology even if you gave one."
His hair was tussled badly as he went between looking at Zathria and looking at his buttons.

The cape he affixed and adjusted. Smoothed his hair down and tried to suppress his breath to something normal but the sheen of sweat he feared marked him no matter how much he wiped away with his cloth.

"There, done."
He did not look done and neither did Zathria.

It made him laugh when he saw the glow on her face and the smile tug at her lips. It reminded him of the morning in the cave when she left in a fluster. The same waters but they were not roiling aimlessly as then, they were devouring the shore. Swallowing the land in unrelenting waves. Anything but calm.

"How are we supposed to go anywhere like this?"

Zathria At'Arel

 

[Thraken Whitview]

"Hello there." she called out as she approached, back straight, "I am Xunari Auceus, Queensguard to her highness the Queen. Though the Queen herself is otherwise occupied currently, I would be remiss if I didn't lend myself to an envoy such as yourself. May I know your name, master Dwarf?"

Thraken, after being nudged by another, was recalling of his manners, inclined his head and body, and gave a respectful bow. As much as a Dwarf could bow, that is.

"I am Thraken Whitview, loyal soldier of Belgrath, member of the Stonemason Guild, keeper of a night's watch, and envoy of the Dwarves under the mountains of the Spine."

He raised his body up.

"And we are honored to be amongst friends and kin."

He said, with mostly the truth. They were fine to be here, just... begrudgingly.