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.

 

[Vyx'aria]

"It would seem a waste to come here and not experience these wonders. I accept. Though I may need another guide than my current one. I've pegged him to be a more of an urban creature rather than one attuned to the wilds. Who knows? Perhaps we may even witness how royal hunts are conducted, down here. Have you often ventured outside these walls, then, valsharess?"

Her reasons were mainly political, but it would be intriguing to witness the full splendour of the Underrealm regardless. Perhaps a little diversion from matters of home were in order.

Vyx'aria
Medja

“You wish to join a hunt?” Her brows lifted, this time with unmistakable interest. “That can be arranged.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “You will not merely observe. We will see you mounted upon a vornyx of suitable temperament,” she said, tone almost approving.

The compliment was edged and deliberate.

“I lived upon the surface for many years,” Vyx’aria continued, idly swirling the wine in her glass. “I wandered its roads, its forests, its borders. I have crossed the Allirian Reach and watched its caravans from afar.”

Her gaze flicked briefly toward Xeraphine.

“Yet I have never stepped within the city itself.”

She took a slow sip. “The wines of the surface are commendable. The fruits of the Ixchel Wilds… exceptional.”

A subtle shift of tone.

“But there is a particular thrill in the Underrealm’s hunts. The terrain breathes differently. The predators here do not roar warnings.”

Her smile sharpened just slightly.

 

[Xeraphine Yldore]

Lions chatting to tigers. She had heard this expression from someone, but couldn't exactly recall from who or where. However, as she watched Vyx'aria's small smile sharpen into a deadly frame and Medja offer up company like one might offer a bowl of dates, it brought the turn of phrase back to her mind -- and a wicked smirk stretched from her own features. She might just have signed up for something rather dangerous. But she already felt some of that thrill that Vyx'aria spoke of, imagining riding something as exotic as a vornyx and hunting down the unmentionable abominations down here.

"I'm certain they don't." Xeraphine briefly eyed Vyx'aria up and down, as if taking in one of those very silent predators. "But all hunters -- whether above or below -- share certain traits. One must simply learn to navigate those instincts."

Medja
Vyx'aria

 

[Nimruil]

She threw the drink back, sputtering as a drop went up her nostril, then dripped to the floor. She panickedly set the glass down on the table, nearly knocking it over, falling to her knees to cantrip the new drop. She almost looked as though she feared a beating. The stain eradicated, she wobbled back up to her feet to walk the archmage to the gate.

The diminutive wisp giggled drunkenly as she spotted a pair of courtesans heading eagerly towards the palace, recognizing the female as she who had been on the Valsharess’s lap earlier. She almost comically looked up at the male towering over all three of them as they passed by the gate, blurting out, “Vith’il Valsharess!!” and throwing her arm clumsily into the air. She turned to face Nimruil, swaying back and forth briefly almost like an inverted pendulum.

“The void.. even here..” She blinked before continuing. “Even here, Nimruil, you may overcome it… with will! Think on a detail that truly caught your eye… remember more details. And then, the whole memory will follow… for good or ill.”

Standing outside the gate, caressing the cover of the regained tome in his hand absently, Nimruil nodded curtly. Whereas Vel'duith had fallen to drink, he kept a tight leash on his senses. Perhaps his experience with the nush nush had made him stiff and unfrivolous; that prior loss of control raising his guard now. Even if drinking to senseless oblivion was tempting; and perhaps he would do so, shortly. But not here. It was much too dangerous here, despite the conversational warmth of Vel'duith. Perhaps particularly because of it, since it might lower his vigilance. He noted the passage of courtesans obliquely, that singular word void occupying his senses more than any well-shaped female could.

For it not only gave him a sense of foreboding, as it long had. Now, it helped engender a possible idea . . .

"Overcoming? Yes, perhaps that would be insightful. But perhaps unknowing can be instrumental. What if we should regret such access to our memories?" He waved off the grave concern, smiling faintly at Vel'duith's stagger to stand poised. "I thank you for returning this to me and the . . . enlightening conversation. Go and amuse yourself -- leave this old e'spdon to his ruminations."

And with those words, Nimruil departed from Vel'duith, the shadows of Zar'ahal consuming the archmage, his head bent in intense thought.

 

[Vel'duith]

As tempting as the suggestion was to go and enjoy herself further - Vel'duith remembered those delightful acrobats with an inebriated giggle - she felt rather dizzy as that last half bottle of wine caught the rest of the way up with her. Better to retire for the evening... morning... whatever time it had gotten to. And so she staggered slowly back into the sitting room of Tor'Rahel manor - her head spun attempting the first step of the staircase leading to her chambers, so she thought better of that - and stretched out languidly on a couch there to meditate on her fascinating conversation with the archmage.

*EXIT*

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

Good, Zathria said, tucking away the rest of her equipment and straightening it as he commented about them looking disheveled. She feigned an offended face as she picked up a pan and looked at herself in the reflection. She pushed a few loose pieces of hair back into place and put it back down.

I don't know what you're talking about, I look wonderful, she said, standing up a little straighter and letting her hand rest comfortably against he sword hilt.

Come on, we have a party to attend, she said and headed back outside.

It didn't take long for her to spot the Queen and a dwarf that she didn't recognize (thought that wasn't saying much) and she slowly started to make her way in that general direction, the tingles in her neck perking up despite the drinks earlier.

Sazalam

 

[Sazalam]

Sazalam followed, working his smile into a wry little thing and why not? He was elevated beyond his wildest expectations today, he should look a little satisfied.

To cover the live bite he reworked his cape to fold over his front and set the pin as a broche. No point in hiding it.

As they moved back through the crowd he got mixed looks from citizens. Envy, disdain and a strange pride were the ones he saw most and all of them were unnerving.
He was used to being barely noticed, there was a very practical reason he knew a spell to make himself unseen.

There was no hiding now though so he stood tall as he could and met every glance head on, fighting the well trained impulse to never make eye contact with women.

Reaching the Queen gave him pause which he voiced to Zathria.

"Dark preserve us, she's surrounded. Should we intervene?"

He did not wish to overstep on his first evening. The Queen may be in her element for all he knew and he did not wish to embarrass her if he misjudged the situation.

Zathria At'Arel Vyx'aria Medja Xeraphine Yldore Thraken Whitview

 

[Medja]

"Appreciated, but sadly, I must decline, empress."

The Empress gave a little shrug.

"Suit yourself," she said before having another sip of her wine.

“Perhaps the nights will offer more comfort to me then,” Vyx’aria replied as she took a sip from her wine, idly tracing a finger along the tail of the letai before withdrawing from the dancer. She glanced up at Medja, “A drow consort? I’m impressed. We can be a difficult bunch,” Vyx’aria said with a grin.

The first statement earned a smirk from Medja.
"That, Valsharess, is a certainty," she replied knowingly. When the second statement hit, the smirk turned more humored than flirtatious. Medja had never met someone quite so frustrating and simultaneously wonderful as Fieravene.
"From my experience, a most accurate descriptor. That woman is an enigma, I swear it..."

The topic turned to accommodations and sightseeing, and Medja's interest shifted accordingly.

"I've heard of these crystal valleys. While hunts may not strike my interest, wines and the wonders of the earth always shall. I'm sure I'd be pleased to accompany you."

 

[Vyx'aria]

“So it is settled,” Vyx’aria said at last, inclining her head to the two women. “A royal hunt will be arranged. You will not find the Underrealm wanting for spectacle.”

She snapped her fingers once. A group of male drow approached immediately, bowing low. “They will see your belongings carried to your quarters within the palace. Please enjoy yourselves, and perhaps I will find you again within the palace before the night is over.”

The withdrawal from the conversation was elegant and graceful. She turned without haste.

There was a thin pressure beneath her ribs now, not enough to betray itself, but enough to demand resolution. She walked past her Queensguard, noting with brief calculation the presence of a Belgrath dwarf among the gathering. Xunari had already shifted to intercept. Satisfied, Vyx’aria did not slow.

The palace corridors swallowed the noise of celebration as she entered them.

She inquired only once, and the answer came right away: Azrakar had not merely withdrawn from the festivities. He had taken his leisure in her chambers.

Her expression did not change. Her stride did not falter.

But something cold settled into place.

She ascended the spiral staircase with measured steps, her boots light over stone despite her size. Torches flickered in alcoves as she passed, their light tracing silver through her hair.

When she reached the great, carved doors, she did not pause to collect herself. She did not announce her presence.

She pushed them open, fully expecting to catch them in a compromising position.

Azrakar

 

[Azrakar]

The dancer gave a sudden start.

Azrakar remained quite still. He slowly set a cup back down on the table.

"I am so sorry, my queen," Azrakar said politely.

The dancer stood and offered a bow. Azrakar stayed where he was until the dancer hissed at him. He stood and bowed.

"I am afraid your event took quite some time and I thought we could pass the time."

The dancer's frown told a story. It was the truth, but it was not how she had expected to pass the time. It had taken some maneuvering on Azrakar's part to deflect her intentions, but it was all worth it to see Vyx’aria in the doorway.

 

[Vyx'aria]

The dancer gave a sudden start.

Azrakar remained quite still. He slowly set a cup back down on the table.

"I am so sorry, my queen," Azrakar said politely.

The dancer stood and offered a bow. Azrakar stayed where he was until the dancer hissed at him. He stood and bowed.

"I am afraid your event took quite some time and I thought we could pass the time."

The dancer's frown told a story. It was the truth, but it was not how she had expected to pass the time. It had taken some maneuvering on Azrakar's part to deflect her intentions, but it was all worth it to see Vyx’aria in the doorway.

Vyx’aria would have preferred to have found him entangled in bed with the dancer.

This….the two of them having tea. The disappointment in the dancer’s face. The polite bow from him. The performance. The fact that it all managed to get the very queen of the Drow to show up for it. It was masterful. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had managed to get under her skin like this.

“Valshares-”

“Out,” Vyx’aria hissed. The dancer looked scandalized, having expected a night with the Queen. She gave Azrakar a dirty look as if this were all his fault, then back to Vyx’aria, then back to him. She began to suspect there was something off here. She quickly shuffled towards the exit.

“Close the doors behind you,” Vyx’aria said, her gaze still on Azrakar, “This male will be making noises I don’t want our Surface guests to hear.”

The doors closed, and Vyx’aria closed the distance in two strides, her hand snapping out to close around Azrakar’s drow throat. She squeezed hard and lifted up with brute strength till his toes brushed the floor.

She gazed up at him, crimson eyes burning. She couldn’t decide if she was furious at him or furious at herself for being impressed.

“I could have imagined less extreme ways to hold my attention,” Vyx’aria growled at him, the same words spat back at him that he told her when he found her sitting on his throne.