Haunted Eyes Upon the Throne (Samheen 27) (Open)

[Fauna Winthrope]

Fauna's mind winced as the Caesar talked to the Battle Mage. With every will she could muster, she banked the anger and hatred that she was feeling for her arch-nemesis, Ashtallion, the only one she saw as an equal and foe against her rise to power.

"Perhaps we can speak in private later."

She knew the implications of those simple words the Ceasar uttered, she knew how manipulative he was and how, with just that simple sentence, her towering pride and confidence started to crumble. That foolish Loraith! She lashed out mentally with deep anger, wanting to gather all the Netheric power she could muster and strike down the Kislovani with just one word of death power. But she had to remain calm, this was not the time to crumble down in front of the court, before her Ceasar and her arch-nemesis.

Ashtallion, however, could see the Aetheric energies crackling within her blue eyes and the intact shield that surround her, energies that seemed to surround her like flittering butterflies.

Devoid of any emotions, she returned the look of Ceasar with emotionless eyes and nodded at him approvingly and coolly. He was the Ceasar and he could do whatever he wanted and then, Fauna returned her gaze back to the court, still vigilant and watchful for any magickal or arcanal thing that might harm the Ceasar.

With all the trappings of servants and people that came fleeting in, Fauna completely ignored them, and even gave the Lady Jolanda a cold glance, her memory of the Westerner woman quite vague, and she could sense the curious stare of Ashtallion and she tittered a small laugh inside for she knew he was intrigued and quite curious of how she had attained her power.

She smirked and gave Ashtallion a passing smile and then lifted her left hand and tried to draw the essence of both the Nether and the Aether and tried to conjure a dozen small floating eyes and she lifted her hand higher and gracefully blew at the orb of black eyes, hoping that they would flitter through the air and roam around the ceiling like flittering butterflies: arcane eyes for the dark sorceress and then smirked once more and coldly looked at Ashtallion with a smug smile.

Perhaps she should remind the Ceasar that it was Ashtallion who defeated the Ceasar at the tourney and started his malady that resulted to his death. Isn't that why he fled the Citadel?

[Ashtallion Urdil]

Her display of power brough an amused smirk to the adhiels own lips, was she trying to intimidate him? She knew fine well he was her match just now, previously such was not the case, but with her rising power the battlemage was far from convinced that he would be able to crush her easily....yet her talents may lie elsewhere. Brute force might not be her calling, in which case he would have the upper hand. Fire and storm swirlled in his blood, pounding energies simply waiting to be released. One day he would be a Master Elementalist. Nature would bow before him and the skies split in exhaultation...... a dream. But one he intended to see come true.

The fact she had a shield risen around her gave Ashtallion enough pause however, it was strong, that much he could tell and in response he wove his own. Nothing overtly fancy. To her eyes, touching the aether, a golden nimbus of solid force encompassed him, pulsing rhymically. He was a training battle mage, energy was not to be wasted on flowery spells that simply looked pretty. His power held its own deadly beauty, and with that he was more than content. It was obvious he had practice at shielding. Not a crack marred its surface.

Andolin appeared a strong willed and capable man, someone Asht could potentially respect and admire. Still, he would wait and see. The throne seeker had Fauna as an advisor however, that was enough to put Asht on edge. The Sorceress still held his attention, though now he turned his eyes from her. She was not going to act on any impulses, it seemed she had gained a measure of control over her heaving chest and did not flaunt it at every oppourtunity, for which the mage was eternally grateful.

[Syrawenn]

Shouting.
Breaking glass.
Curses.
More curses.

Something was going on just outside the majestic room and it certainly did not sound like a servant bringing in the drinks. It sounded more like aforementioned servant breaking all the glasses on the tray and having a fit.

"If YOU want stronger bonds with the Citadel, why don't YOU marry him then, eh? It's not like they MIND that kind of thing around here!" A distinctly female voice rang through the hall. "NO, I am not going to calm down. In fact I'll make BLOODY well sure that he won't be in the LEAST interested. So screw you! Go sit on a roof and enjoy the view!"

A small figure darted into the room, fuming and stomping while she checked the entrance behind her for anyone stupid enough to follow. Her green dress was torn in several places, making it a lot easier for her to move around -run, if necessary- and her long, brown braid was in something of a disarray.

Raging green eyes moved through the room until she found the throne. "YOU!" An accusing finger at Andi, lifting her tied hands up. "Talk some SENSE into my moron of a brother, PLEASE or I'll be forced to make sure you hate my guts -if you don't already after this FINE display of my undoubtedly bad beh....Ashtallion!"

Syrawenn noticed another familiar person and her face lit up for a moment. "Asht! Hey! Mister demonhunter! Can we please go find some demons? I'm sure I prefer those over.....THIS! Oh, do me a favour and untie me?" With an urgent gesture the hyperactive youngster offered Ashtallion her tied hands.

[Vanadius]

Lieutenant Sean Lwyn strode into the chamber unannounced and more than a little distracted. Looking somewhat dapper and polished in his
red and black Pax Honestus uniform, he held his wide brimmed hat in his hands in an almost pleading manner, a gesture of his futile desperation. Normally a somewhat pious and devout individual, he shouted back at her at her, his frustration and aggravation clearly evident.

“But it’s a GOOD MATCH Syra! It was BLESSED and SANCTIONED by the CHURCH! Father and Mother would be pleased! The One knows THEY’VE put up with your WILD and RECKLESS ways LONG ENOUGH!”

He changed tactics. Instead of continuing to yell at her, he composed himself and lowered his voice. Although significantly softer, he was still agitated and his words could be heard clearly.

I hear the new Caesar is a comely man, smart and …”

He suddenly stopped and looked around, a sheepish, embarrassed expression on his young and handsome face. He quickly turned his head toward the ground, closed his eyes. With one hand over his heart and the other forward with his palm to the side and his thumb crossed over the palm, he made the prayer sign as he uttered a hasty and silent plea to Dominicus for forgiveness of the rants and raves of his untamed sister.

“A thousand pardons… I hope you will excuse this little outburst…”

He trailed off, equally shamed and humiliated and unable to continue speaking. He gave Syrawenn an unbelievably sour look and gestured for her to exit with him immediately.

[Ashtallion Urdil]

At the first sound of the commotion, Asht tensed, thinking some horde of demonic creatures were about to thunder into the throne room and paint the walls red with their blood...... until he realised it was only Syrawenn. A large and genuine smile etched across the mages' face, for the first time since he had entered the room. " Syra, what are you doing here? ", he moved closer to the young girl, making a lazy gesture towards the rope binding her hands. Several small strands of heat infused with the rope, perfect control of the minor use of energy. The rope burnt swiftly to cinders, leaving little but ash and without harming Syra.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, " Tis good to see you, I can see your temperment has not changed since the last time. Good also. ", he cast a glance to the man beside her, trying to persuade her to leave. Raising an eyebrow, he merely turned to regard Andolin. " My Lord.....I will vouch for the young Lady Syrawenn, if you would be kind as to permit her to remain here, even for a short time? ", he bowed his head, low and with deep respect. The hand on Syra's shoulder increased its pressure ever so slightly. The message was clear..... say not a word and go along with the lame title!

[Fialessa Valenstri]

“Fialessa Valenstri,” the adhiel returned smoothly at the appropriate moment. She was not a one that would happily reveal everything or even little about herself in this room full of strangers. But at least now these strangers had names.

Names yes, but an odd assortment still they were. She could not remember any time when she had been a member of such a collection. But some sense of those around her as she stood observing them and their little looks and displays suggested to her that this Andolin was not the only spider amongst them. She gazed around to wonder which spiders dressed as flys and vice versa.

She for one did see nothing the matter with Scatha's suggestion of sandwiches but also saw nothing wrong with the champagne either. She accepted the glass and sipped from it. But that other part, well her wishes were her own. Besides which she had no desire to be a Caersarii. “I suppose if one must wish, one might as well wish for the impossible – I would seen an end to silly posturing wars and the decimation and elimination of entire peoples... But then I don't think the Caesarii would truly have the power for such things...”

Her gaze resumed, catching the interchange of Fauna and Ashtallion and too the entrance of a young... girl, who could miss it if they paid attention to anything beside themselves. She watched with an upraised eyebrow as the young girl appealed to the male mage to untie her...

[Fauna Winthrope]

When the loud sound of crashing erupted, Fauna gasped and quickly took actions. Her blue eyes crackled with profound Aetheric and Netheric energies and with quick agile sidestep, a small flicker of her hand and a twirl of her tattered, dark purple robe; the dark sorceress weaved a pure force of shield, a globular shield with a faint purple cast to it. It encapsulate the throne area, the Ceasar as the center and with her inside of it.

With her other hand, she weaved a force of dark, purple flame, ready to throw it to the advancing chaos that was entering, ready to cinder the throne-room with her Netheric Flame of dark fire when she saw a small woman entering, bound and yelling.

Quickly, she raised her flawless head to the ceiling, summoning her dozen arcane orb eyes and they swooshed towards the small woman and her brother, trying to detect any hint of Deamonic Taint that may harm the life of the Ceasar.

If those eyes could gasp out in fear, they would have done so and when those dark orbs recognized the woman that was bound, they flittered away with fear and profound panic, like dark crows from a raptor, as if the mere presence of the woman could inflict profound pain.

It was then that Fauna's face went pure white, there were not enough Nether, Aether and blood magick to stop the chaos of the woman that was Syrawenn and slowly, the shield around the throne evaporated and the dark flame upon Fauna's palm was snuffed out. Syrawenn was beyond Fauna and it was up to Andolin, the great and omnipotent Ceasar, to stop the Chaos which was Syrawenn.

"I wish you luck, My Imperial Majesty." Fauna murmured and fearfully went back behind the throne, doublechecking her shields if it was enough to protect herself from the advancing woman and turned her crackling blue eyes, watching every movement of the woman of pure chaos.

[Andolin]

An appreciative smile was afforded Fialessa. The smile did not weaken when she offered her own wish. It was little more than a wish for world peace, as far as Andolin was concerned. Why was it that when beautiful woman were asked what they wanted, world peace seemed to always top the list? It was disappointing, but he attempted not to let it show. Instead, he simply nodded.

Really, there was little time to do more as a human cyclone seemed to enter the throne room. In all of the lava beds of the nether, how did this hellion imp appear in my throne room? He meant Syrawenn of course. She looked vaguely familiar. He was almost sure that he had danced with her for a moment in another dream ... of a party where he was the host as Master of Protocol, and he and Isabella had been confronted by that Dominicus avatar. It had not ended prettily.

As her brother and Asht tried to make amends for the teenage hoyden, Andolin shook his head in disbelief at this unlikely interuption. "No one is getting married in this throne room at the moment Syrawenn, Though I agree with the astute man that seems to be your brother that the new Caesar is a comely man, and smart ... and modest," he laughed.

"Who are you supposed to marry anyway?" he asked in amusement. He was certain that Syrawenn and Scatha would become great friends. "Someone in the Empire? You hardly seem old enough to marry," he commented dryly. If she became unruly, he was prepared to envision her restrained in chains rather than rope.

[Jolanda]

The would be Caesar passed no comment on her wish for a parade, he seemed more interested in the farm girl. Curious, Jolanda wondered what sort of hands the Citadel was falling into, it did not seem a turn for the better.

"Passive?" she looked at Loraith with restrained mirth as she replied in a similar hush, "I don't quite see how a parade is passive..." she glanced again at his sword, "though perhaps it is merely the relativity of perception? To me, such would be quite dramatic, but I expect it takes a little more for some to rate an event as dramatic."

She'd never killed a man, perhaps if she had she'd think a parade a rather passive thing too.

The cold look she then received from Fauna caused Jolanda to smile, Am I stealing your plaything milady? The other women seemed entirely distracted by the mage, providing Jolanda further time to bend Loraith to her own purpose. "Of course, if it is the sensational that entices you milord, then perhaps we ought to talk?" she gave the half-elf an inviting smile.

Mayhem suddenly burst upon the scene, in the form of an upstart teenage girl. Jolanda cocked an eyebrow, no more, she was becoming used to unusual occurrences. "Though it seems this lady might prove more to your taste, if she isn't begging for someone to kill her intended for her, then I'm a gherkin. Though I dare say, that once the fellow meets her (surely he can't have agreed to it and seen what she is like), he'll fall on his sword voluntarily." all the time Jolanda spoke in a hush.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha looked coolly at Jolanda; "I wouldn't know anything about whether any man could afford me or not. I'm sure you have much more experience in haggling over the price of such things." Then she turned her attention back to the servant who had suddenly appeared at her elbow.

Rather disconcertingly, the champagne glasses on the the tray he was holding now turned into sandwiches. Scatha poked at them suspiciously; never eat anything that turns into something else a small voice muttered in her head. But its a dream, she reminded herself, before picking one out and taking a tentative bite. A blissful smile crept across her face; "Hey everyone! There's jam!"

Scatha crammed the rest of the sandwich into her mouth, took another two (just be sure that she didn't miss out when the rush started), and watched wide eyed as various other people appeared in the dream. It was a bit like Bramble Hayhurst's party, when people kept turning up and pretended that they liked each other, just because they were at Bramble's party and had to be on their best behaviour, otherwise they would get sent home. Scatha wondered if they would play Pin The Tail On The Donkey later.

And then... something crashed in to the dream. No, not something - someone. Scatha watched with interest as a small girl darted into the dream closely pursued by another. They seemed to be arguing about an arranged marriage, and Scatha's ears pricked up. She knew all about arranged marriages, and how to avoid them. It was the fox-like man's comments that intrigued her though. "Wait a flicker... you were asking just now why any of us should be the new Caesarii," she said, spraying bread crumbs everyhwere. "But you've just said the new Caesar is a comely man." Scatha wasn't entirely sure what comely was, but she had a horrible suspicion it had something to do with hair brushes. "If you already know who the new Caesar is, why are you asking us? And who is it, anyway?"

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie's dark eyes pierced Loraith as he dared to touch her arm against all form and protocol "Touch me again, Puppo, and you are dead," she told him in a low voice, shaking off his hand with an angry movement. Poison, the merchantprincess decided, a slow poison to make him suffer endlessly. Just because she was trapped didn't mean that she had turned into a freightened little bunny. "The Condotierre will be here sooner than you like." Another glance at the air, outside the window.

Holding off on further threats Rosalie moved away slightly, listening to the repartee that Jolanda offered, another familiar form. That Fauna dramatically called Loraith to order when she had already rid herself of the man, only revealed the connections between the two and she arched an eyebrow. I will use my advantages where I can find them, but if you think I'll be your creature, then you have not yet learned the deviousness of the West. That the dark domus chided his man brought a small smile to her face. Embaressement over bad form. She relished it. A worthy foe. What else did one expect of the former Master of Protocol?

This was a dream. A dream of things to come maybe, or of things that would never come to pass. Once she woke up it probably would make sense. Azarin had been her cunning opponent or perhaps fellow victim when she was trapped in the Divale, while Loraith and Fauna had been mere irritations in days past. A nightmare then, hunting her even as she slept. A detached part of her wondered if this was how her life felt currently... as a prison, with the girl plotting to escape.Through marriage.. or is that yet another prison?

Rosalie's amber eyes swept over the other ladies in the room. More and more of them. Syrawenn got a sympathetic look, even though her lack of manners made the lady wince. Protective brothers are bothersome. Loved.. but bothersome all the same. No guessing why this woman was added to her dream. For of course Rose could not imagine it being anything else than her dream filled with symbolic meaning. A lecture on the Aether and its energies would be fairly wasted on her.

So why am I here? Rosalie wondered as she circled the room Except for feeling sorry for myself. For that she did. It almost threatened to overwhelm her, the tears high yet never shed. Her only comfort was the presence of Jolanda, who distracted Loraith with her wit. By going in two different directions as if by unspoken agreement between the two western ladies the Kislovani knight-wannabe had to chose whom to guard. It was not Rosalie.

Her eyes settled upon her dark foe. You. You are the reason I am here. You like to hear people talk, and be at the center of it, don't you? Is it your wish that all of us woo you? A vision of the dying tart swam before her. It seemed a dangerous thought to entertain. Are you easily distracted by a thing of beauty? Perhaps she would gain an advantage if she seduced Azarin, but she could not bring herself to lower herself to that level of behavior. Her upbringing made her incapable of using her body as a tool like any eastern lady might. It was, she reflected, a weakness, one she had already paid for.

"Milady Scatha," Rosalie curtsied politely to the introductions. Form was everything. She took a glass of champagne and listened with a smile to Jolanda's three wishes. Yes, that was so very telling. My three wishes: to marry for money and power, to become a widow shortly thereafter and.... to be free. She did not voice them however. No, this social game needed something of wit and if she spoke now she might have to cry. How very embaressing.

OOC: sorry for the mega post, lots to catch up with. Will answer the game when one or two people have managed to squeeze in a reply.

[Alexandrya L`handriel]

Alazandra noticed the interaction and the strong emotions that seemed to exude from some of the people in the hall. She found it very disconcerting but her thoughts were interrupted when a young girl entered the room in the most chaotic way. It put a smile to her lips as she watched the interaction and her head tilted in curiosity at the little scene before her. It seems that the girl is not happy to be here either. It made her especially pleased that the tattered bar wench seemed to be pacified by the darling with the brown hair and the grey-greenish eyes.

She ignored the servant that stood by her. She did not feel like celebrating but concentrated on the discussion. Her eyes studied each and every face, remembering names as best as she could. Pink... She shook her head as she tried to push that thought aside but not without shuddering as Rosalie spoke. What the deuce?

She scowled as she tried to cleanse her mind of that abhorrent color memory and again tried to concentrate. What would I wish for? Hmm...what would I wish for? She honestly did not know what the Caesar could give her so she remained quiet as she thought of a pleasant and even boring answer if she had to answer. Of course, she did try to become background for awhile as the rest seemed to want the floor.

[Ashtallion Urdil]

Her power was brushed aside like a flickering candle flame. That spike in energies swept over Ashtallion like a cold wind, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end and an icey chill to run up his spine. It was almost arousing. He suppressed the small frown that was dying to line his brow. Syrawenn's entrance seemed to disturb the dark sorceress greatly, which only served to heighten the adhiel's enjoyment of seeing Syra.

He said nothing more though, waiting for Syrawenn to reply, though he mentally winced at what she would come out with.

[Sevti]

Before Sevti had a chance to speak, the room began to fill with new people, none of whom she recognized. Stepping back into the shadows, she listened to the political maneuverings of those that surrounded the powerful man.

What would I do if I were the new Caesarii? she repeated mentally as she bowed her head at the introduction given flickers before. Give the title to someone more worthy! I have enough troubles as it is. The answers already given were amusing. Sandwiches. Parades. Holidays. Attendants. They have heads of nothing but air, the Panling thought scornfully. All the finery and not one thing to better Tazlure for anyone but themselves. Well, except maybe the sandwiches, she conceeded. But even that...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash and a voice. A very familiar voice. "Syra?" the diminutive woman whispered, taking a step out of her shadows to see the woman who darted into the room. A smile crossed Sevti's lips. Just as a expected her to be. A whirlwind of chaos with every step.

Her friend didn't seem to notice her, instead appealling to the second mage that had entered - the adhiel male named Ashtallion. Sevti slipped silently through the people that stood between herself and her friend as Ashtallion removed Syrawenn's bondings, approaching her friend from the side. "Pan's curly horns, Syra, even if you aren't glad you're here, I am," she told her friend in a low whisper, once the woman gave her a chance to speak. "I was starting to think I was insane for being here in the first place."

Looking around her at the collection of faces, all so far out of her league as to make her presence laughable, she amended, "Well, maybe...."

[Langredoc]

Wrong place Langredoc had no idea why the thought appeared in his mind while he suppressed a yawn. His eyes checked out the environment he just appeared in. The only thing he remembered is that he went to sleep... so this should be a dream...

Dream... nice dream... ladies..odd room ... some guys... a adhiel ...a noble guy ...ladies.... wrong place I guess.. Just to be sure, he checked where the door was.

Door is still there ... he shook his shoulders and checked out all the ladies with his eyes. If this was a dream he would make sure he enjoyed it.

His eyes looked down noticing for the first time that he was actually dressed up nicely, a bit like a nobleman, or a knight as he had seen so many time's when they went out with the ladies. The flaming red clothing where made out of silk, not something he would have chosen but it showed nicely his long black hair and green eyes. He was pleased to see that there was no expensive jewelry, but his longsword was still resting on his back, a comforting thought.

Remembering that gaping at other people and yourself is not something that is appriciated he bowed and said "Langredoc, at your service, Ladies .... Gentlemen.." a smile appeared at his face.

Somehow, while his eyes jumped from beauty full face to shining eyes, he felt that this was a risky place to be.

"Do I interrupt something ?" he resumed.... A warm smile appeared on his face while he stepped asside to have the wall behind his back. After all you never know...luck and danger where common bedfellows... and this room was full of both, or so it seemed.

Langredoc wondered what the status of everybody was, the guy in the middle seemingly trying to get the attention of the beauty full women, could be the big honcho, high nobility... looked rich so probably a ass.

The Adhiel guy... well it was a adhiel so a bit out of place in this luxurious ....hall, room, house.. castle ? Langredoc tried to remember how arrived and failed. But Adhiel where normally ok in his book... although he looked a bit magelike, not a person you expect in a place like this.

His eyes moved on, lingering on white hair... white ? Yes white.. attached to a stunning young woman with enchanting blue eyes. A smile appeared on Langredoc's face when he became aware of the telltale signs of Adhiel blood. It explained a lot to him from where she got the grace. She was not someone you would easily forget if you would meet her under special circumstances, nor would the scars he assumed.

From white to..... black.. this girl was for sure not nobility. Her raven black hair the same like his and her smile made her clearly more down to earth then miss snowflake hair. A figure you would love to be acquainted with and a smile that made the room heat up a little bit. He wondered what her eye color would be, as he could not see it from where he was. But she was clearly a pleasant sight. This dream got better and better..

Next lady was .....different, long chestnut colored hair, tasteful and elegant clothing and she walked with style.... All the things that the young man associated with the upper class. Automatically his eyes started to search for knifes. He was looking forward to talk with this ....lady. But he would stay out of arms reach.. Or even further away. Just in case.


Not a stunning lady he concluded when his eyes touched the lady beside the woman he would call “Lady killing grace” for now.. After checking the lady out he would have moved on rather quickly if she would not have been wondered why she was holding her head sliding tilted, like she was listening rather then looking at all the people around her. Still she was not blind as far he could notice so this behavior was a bit strange to him. Interesting non the less.

Breadcrumbs and Jam, and a healthy disposition. Langredoc grin widened when he saw this girls face, she was just as at her place in this center of elegance as a war machine. She clearly was here to enjoy herself and thats what she did. It was hard not to like her like that, she was like everyone's little sister, although it made him wonder how she would look like after a bath. She would clearly complain if he had to take one..

Moving on his eyes met a new lady.... Fire was the first thing that sprang to Langredoc's mind when he saw the copper colored hair combined with fierce amber colored eyes. Even from this distance those eyes sparked. Langredoc never made wish lists but he was sure that this lady would be on many guys list, if they could write off course. He was not sure of she was nobility, but those eyes where a reason for caution.

Sometimes association is the strongest thing in someone's life but this woman with her darkened skin and honey colored hair just reminded him of the women his lord used to invite to his castle and tent. How much money would this woman want for her attention and waste of time Langredoc thought. But he could be totally wrong and then she would probably be a nasty witch like noble woman, Langredoc concluded. A chuckle almost left his mouth. It proved that this woman was hard to judge..

Talking about hard to judge he thought while looking at the last woman... girl in the room... hall. Young and standing beside the Adhiel guy. He wondered what a girl that young would do in a place like this... not a really nice thought he concluded. The girl looked like she could explode anytime, her eyes moving around while she spoke with the Adhiel. It made Langredoc wonder, she was very pretty though... and he guess she would be beautiful when she would be older. But she was NOT nobility...

That was the moment that he decided to stay where he was until somebody would react to him. he checked his dagger, just to be sure.

[Guest]

Loraith recalled when the throne room was such a peaceful place. Now swarms of people thronged in and he felt rather claustrophobic. A bound human maelstrom swung about the room causing Loraith to raise an eyebrow, in fact the only comfort to him at present was that Jolanda was on his arm, at least that person would not dash about. Still his charge Rosalie had taken advantage and vanished into the crowd, he cared little she could not get far. Still Jolanda proved a welcome distraction and he smiled at her words, "The sensational my Lady, I crave all of lifes pleasure really, be they whatever emotion, experience or thought." he paused for a moent and chuckled, "And as for the many women running about in here, I feel the one that shows etiquette and stays on my arm takes my fancy most." He took a step back so he was next to the wall leading her with him. They were out of the general melee and at this rate Loraith thought they might have little chance of being bowled over by one of the individuals in here.

His eyes were carried again to the young girl, she seemed to command many glances and he did not know why. He found her vaguely amusing, perhaps there was a stirring in him, the same stirring that occured when he looked at Scatha, the sort of stirring the noble gets when contemplating the affair with the lower classes. For they were certainly below him he had little doubt of that. Jam and whatnot, and champagne, give him wine and souflee any day Loraith thought. Still he would enjoy talking to her, perhaps he could taste the delights of the country flower before too long. For now though he had Jolanda to keep him company, she seemed to be friendly and while he had little doubt she was just appeasing him, perhaps so her friend could escape, perhaps so she had someone with a sword nearby to protect her, he was not about to waste the moment. Hand moved so hers was released but they were not unconnected for long, his ever-roaming hand soon found one of her shapely buttocks through her dress and used it to pull her into him, his other hand went about her as a grin crept onto his face. "Perhaps my Lady will let her veneer of civility down in the general melee occuring at the moment hmm?"

[Syrawenn]

Within the flicker of an eye Syrawenn was free of her bonds. A grin split her face as she thanked the mage by throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely.

There was something so familiar about him, so safe. She knew him, knew his sense of humour, he didn't fuss, and...

Well, darn it, HE should have been my brother! Not that piece of Dominiature over there!

She cast an angry glance at Sean, who seemed to be under the mistaken assumption that she would actually follow his lead. "Screw you, Sean. You made this mess, you lie in it. I TOLD you I wasn't gonna cooperate. Sorry, mister." She turned to Andolin with a lopsided grin. "Whatever this comely guy might think, I'm sure he did NOT have in mind that my dimwit brother over there was gonna barter about marriages. I ain't the marriage material and HE..." A finger at Sean. "...should KNOW that by now! Or were you going for 'thrice is the charm'?"

Obviously the last remark was aimed at her brother again. The girl was getting lightheaded with the ping-pong movements of her head by now and was pleasantly surprised by yet another familiar voice. "SEVTI!" She cried out and bounced towards the first and only female friend she ever managed.

"Sevti! Flippin netherbats, am I glad to see you! You know what that means, don't you? It means you ain't no figment, nor is Asthie over there. And I found Gavin too! He was real too! Yer dreamwalkers, aren't ya? Waaaaaait a moment....what did I just say and why did I say it?"

Syrawenn dislodged herself and brought a calloused finger to her lips. "Dreamwalkers..." She muttered. "So this is a dream again, eh? Soooo...oh, fun." An evil grin appeared on her face as she regarded Sean. "Sean, m'dear...you ain't got no power over me here. Ain't that a shame? Now run along and dream something else. I'm quite comfortable here, thank you!"

Her eyes sparkled, completely missing the panicky flight of Fauna's orbs. "This is gonna be FUN! Who else is here?" A quick look around and her eyes found Langredoc. "I know that fellow." She whispered to Sevti. "If you know him too, then I know what i know him from. Oh! Did I tell you? I'm gonna dye my hair so I can change the future. Neat plan, huh?"

[Andolin]

The throne room was rapidly filling up, but not with the adoring throng that Andolin had imagined. It was a cavalcade of persons emitting a cacophony of sounds. Really, it was becoming a circus of sorts.

Behold the lady that would be Caesarii Andolin thought to himself as one of those summer fair barkers might shout to attract persons willing to pay to see her. See her conjure sandwiches, only to steal more than she can eat. Be amazed as she wolfs down a sandwich as if it were the last tidbit of food left in Tazlure. Marvel at her ability to project bread crumbs from her mouth as she speaks with her mouth full. He was not sure whether he should laugh or cry. As the Master of Protocol he would have been dismayed; but, really that title was nothing more than the phony person who held it. Oh, he knew something or two about etiquette ... like you should be polite to someone you intend to sacrifice to summon a demon. That was only good manners after all.

Since arriving at court, he had been wonderful at pretending he was a noble. With his natural haughtiness and confidence, he fit right in. He would have been more shocked if he had been born with a silver spoon. Though he played the part well, he had known more farm girls than he knew ladies. He could only assume in that hidden past of his, that he had likely rubbed elbows with only commoners. Lucienda had said his mother was a ... servant. The mere thought sent a chill down his aetheric spine.

So, perhaps he should stuff some sandwiches into his mouth and launch on some fine commoner topic ... like the weather. Beastly weather we are having, eh? he thought to himself sarcastically. No doubt he could charm the lovely Syrawenn and Scatha by making rude noises with his body, as some farm boy might. He could see it now, their eyes all aglow that he was so charming in his own rude, coarse, oafish, witless way. He found himself sighing as Syrawenn launched herself at Sevti. That marked the Panling as another farm girl looking for foolish sport. He supposed that only Rosalie would truly understand the vexation he was feeling. Alazandra and Fialessa seemed to have natural grace. Perhaps they were not lost causes. Jolanda seemed entertaining enough, in a lady like way, even if she was likely just a servant.

As Alazandra withdrew into the shadows, Andolin could understand. He felt like withdrawing himself. But it was his dream, by the gods, and he would not let a bunch of farm yokels hijack his dream so easily.

As Langredoc entered, Andolin would only wonder which piece in this drama that the man intended on playing. "Welcome Langredoc," he uttered politely as teenage girls squealed around him. "No, you are not interrupting anything," he sighed. "I was just trying to wonder to myself what pure entropy would be like ... and now I think I know," he jested ruefully.

To Scatha he owed an answer, he supposed. In case this was the type of dream she might recall, he supposed he would need to be nice to her. Maybe he could conjure a dairy cow for her and let her demonstrate her prowess as a milker. He would undoubtedly forever win a warm place in her heart for it. But, at the moment, he did not have a stomach for it.

"Ah, the new Caesar. There is none in the waking world at the moment my dear Scatha, but in this dream, it is but a shadow of what the future may bring." Moving closer to her, and ignoring Syrawenn at the moment, he uttered, "here I am that man. I hope that I do not disappoint." He stayed out of range of her flying bread crumbs.

Then to Sean, Syrawenn's brother, he asked, "who was she to marry?" The man should be ever grateful that the nuptials will never occur.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie smiled mysteriously as she moved through the crowds, giving friendly nods left and right as if she was still the powerful merchantprincess instead of a pitiful captive, stubbornly maintaining her status and image. A surprised, honest laugh escaped her full ruby lips when Andolin quipped about the pure entropy this dream had become. For one flicker only the dark man almost appeared sympathetic.

Everybody was observing each other, greeting friends, shouting at relatives. Nobody was playing the game the incoming Ceasar wanted. How annoyed you must be to be ignored like that. It certainly irked her. The lack of protocol was shocking. These people seemed bereft of their senses save for a few more demure ones. It was time for someone to take control. It might as well be me.

Stepping into the center of the room, not far from the throne, Rosalie waited for a flicker till she was certain she caught the attention of the crowd. She clapped her hands to emphasize her intention "Come now, our gracious host as asked us all to play a game. Who will honor him by answering his question? Now is not the time to be shy. So what would you wish for if you took your place on the throne as Ceasari?"

The lady pointed at Alexandrya with her folded fan, a vaguely familiar form even behind her veil, prodding her "Come now, what will it be? All the dresses you can dream of? Or no... something for the good of the people.. like... combatting the darkness..?" Rosalie laughed with self irony"Or perhaps defeating the West, for your people seem to equate the two."

She turned and watched the other ladies in the room, her amber eyes fixing Sevti "And you, milady? You take the choatic gods name lightly... are we to assume you'd persue.. sin.. pardon.. joy.. when you become Ceasari. Joy for everybody."

Rosalie's eyes swept to Fauna next and she laughed merrily, amused by the sheer picture of malice and seductive sin the dark sorceress presented "No guessing what you will wish for, milady. Power. Unlimited power. Don't we all want that?"

[Jolanda]

Jolanda smiled, feeling pleased with herself as Loraith commended her etiquette. Yes I am so much better than they. She looked towards the girl scoffing sandwiches. Mmmm....Jam. It had been days since Jolanda had eaten any normal food, she was not so fond of the food at the Western embassy, her mouth watered.

For so many ladies, and all with eyes upon the would be Cesar she was certain, very few seemed to take the opportunity to tell him their wishes - so that Jolanda was relieved as Rosalie took maters in hand. I should have guessed she would! Her eyes flashed with the subtle cuts the Mouthie made, feeling proud of her association with her... but then Loraith's hand.

"Ohh!" she started, her eyes flaring. His low murmurs filtering none the less to her ears. With an embarrassed glance around, hoping no-one had noticed what had just happened she explained, "I just remembered I never drink wine this late." A lame excuse to be certain

Her eyes shot a reprimand to the man at her side, her tone low and threatening, "Behave." Fingernails bit into his arm.

Disinclined to remain on the periphery of conversation, "A disarray, milord, reminiscent of the Citadel perhaps, one might wonder if the dream is but a test of your rulership... is it a precursor of the future on an aspect you where less desirous of?" she commented towards Andolin, who did not have charge of the situation at all. She was quite certain such a scene would never occur within the perfection of Terra west, why even when they portal had exploded everyone remembered protocol. She was beginning to see that this man was not the hope for a more orderly Citadel, but would be it's demise.

How was he chosen? she wondered, who did he bribe?

She looked towards the young man who then arrived, giving a acknoldgeing smile as he was spoken to. "Do you know him, do you know any of these others?" she questioned of Loraith.

[Sevti]

Sevti grinned at her friend's enthusiastic greeting. "I never knew I was in danger of being a figment," she replied good-naturedly. "But it's good to know you aren't one either."

She nodded in greeting to Ashtallion. "I take it you know Syra from another dream?" she asked the mage standing nearby. "Yours didn't happen to involve ghost armies, long marches, and surprise pregnancies as well, did it?"

She listend to her friend's words bubbling forth, laughing aloud when Syrawenn revealed her plan to thwart the future. "Syra, only you..." The diminutive woman couldn't think of anything else to say that Syra would listen to. Sev already knew the future was about as predictable as Syra herself. She'd already noticed where her dream of the future had veered from the reality of the present. But Syra's determination about what she perceived as the order of things - particularly if she could be pessimistic - was always difficult to change. So Sevti didn't even try.

"You're the first person I recognized since coming into this crazy dream," she continued. Turning her attention to the young man that entered, the Panling replied to her friend's question. "Langredoc, isn't it? He was the one that took care of that assassin so she wouldn't bother you and Gavin."

Before she could say anymore, a loud clapping caught her attention, as it was intended to. The woman doing the clapping was obviously a puppet of the man on the throne, trying to steer their attention back to him. She watched her prod Alezandra, trying to get the adhiel lass to answer the Caesar's question.

Then her amber eyes turned toward the young Panling and her sharp tongue tried to skewer the young woman. You try to pretend to be the lady, Sevti thought as her eyes narrowed, But inside you're nothing but a bitter old bitch.

For a moment, she debated not answering the Mouthie woman at all, but her anger got the better of her. "Joy for everyone, no. On some, such pleasures would be lost," she shook her head sadly, eyes focused on the bitch in burgandy. "Those that wished it could practice Joy. Or Art. Or even Blood." Her lips turned up into a cold smile. "In fact, to keep everyone free to practice as they wished, I would encourage those with a knack for fighting to practice Blood.

"But in truth," she turned her attention away from Rosalie as though the Mouthie woman no longer existed, her attention now to the man on the throne, "If I were to find myself Cesarii, I would find someone else to take it quickly. My talents lie elsewhere and unlike some, I have no wish to be something other than what I am."

She turned her attention back to Syra. "Do you remember Langredoc from the future as well?" she asked, not attempting to keep her voice down. She'd said her piece and had no desire to add to it.

[Guest]

Loraith looked rather put out, he released her and behaved a bit like a child. He certainly exuded confidence in the martial matters but with women he was spoilt and displayed his distaste that someone did not fall over upon hearing his charm.

"They are less than footnotes in history, my Lord Andolin brings us order, I am his sword and my Lady Winthrope is his magic, but then we have these vermin swarming about, all soerts flocking around my feet." he sneered and glanced at Ashtallion noticing him for the first time, "but there are some here of repute, Master Magus Ashtallion is an aquaintance of mine." He would give him a curt nod of recognition if he glanced his way.

"But the nature of things is for these saplings to grow into oaks, and they shall chaok each other as they grow and become stronger, the decadece of the old days shall come upon us, my Lord Andolin is quite unlike any other Caesar, an emperor with a love for the people no less, the Citadel shall rise strong again." He looked at Andolin but quickly cast his eyes down, "but ambition overrides morality so oft." He looked at Jolanda and raised an eyebrow quizzicaly, "And why is my Lady here? In this hall, I do not ever known who you are, you are but a rather plesant work of art, a well proportioned vision of womanhood, comely and ripe." he chuckled gently and looked mockingly out at the people in the hall.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha swallowed the first of the sandwiches, and considered the fox-like man's answer. "So this is your dream... to be Caesar? Well, there's nothing wrong with dreaming. Jolly good sandwiches, by the way." She took a bite of another, and turned her attention to someone clapping their hands in the room.

At first Scatha was hopeful that it was to get everyone's attention to play Pass The Parcel, but instead it was one of the beautiful women saying they wanted to play the game that the fox-like man had started. Scatha crammed another sandwich into her mouth (mmmMMm... and the best thing is, jam sandwiches in dreams can never make you fat...), and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

"We have a saying on Dort," she called out the crust and jam. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours. If you want to play, then you go first. You tell us what your three wishes would be. And that includes you, foxy. In fact - you should go first, seeing as its your game." Scatha leant forward, and poked him in the ribs. "Go on. Tell."

[Langredoc]

Something bothered Langredoc, something like a memory of a memory in a dream. He had always been a sucker for eyes and while watching Syrawenn and Sevti he had a strange feeling that he had seen those eyes before, although he was very sure that that was not true.

A grin flushed over his face when he concluded that he probably had met those women in a former lifetime. A silly, but rather amusing idea, so he moved forward to be able to see the ladies a tat more closeup.

Then the Lady with the killing grace or maybe a it was her draconian attitude that made him weary of her, moved to the center near the throne. Her words brought attention to her while she, as Langredoc assumed played her game with the minds of the people.

“ So what would you wish for if you took your place on the throne as Ceasari? “ she said, Langredoc concluded that he would not wish to change into a womans form to be able to answer this question.

Then her tongue touched the other women with questions and answers. It was interesting to watch though. So Langredoc listened amused.

"No guessing what you will wish for, milady. Power. Unlimited power. Don't we all want that?"

Those word triggered something inside him. Unlimited power.... Don't we all want that.... after toying with the words he concluded that that was not what he wanted. Just to hear and see the reaction of Sevti towards to woman. It made him rest his hand on the large knife hanging on his belt... although he did not know why.

But the words did stick, so he said, soft enough not to be heard by anybody but hard enough to be heard by Rosalie “Unlimited power is for Nobility like you I guess, for the poor a real meal would be sufficient..” he wondered why it was so important to speak out his mind. Then he realized that it was because of a cold winter when somebody had told him. “Your life is mine to decide over..” unlimited power....

"Do you remember Langredoc from the future as well?" words spoken by the woman towards the other woman..

Langredoc was stunned for a mere flicker, but then he just waited answers would come. They always did, he just stayed on guard. There would be a response from many side's and one would be the Noble lady.......

[Fauna Winthrope]

From behind the throne, Fauna raised a well plucked eyebrow, her tattterd, dark purple gown stirred from some unknown breeze and her artfully, disarranged, blonde head turned to regard Rosalie with a cold, impassionate look.

Oh, but my dear Rose of the West. She mused with an amused thought. I care not to be a Ceasarii. Let Andolin find a whore to fill in that role. My goals are faaaar beyond the mere mundanes of power. If you could only know, I seek not the Ultimate Power, but Power beyond imaginings, power beyond Ceasar or those titles that you all flock for. For you my dear Rosy, it might be a title of nobility... Mayhaps, a crown, perhaps power to dominate people. If you should know, I care not for those things. Let Andolin wallow with his thirst for mundane power. If only I could advice the Ceasar to get you as his bride, it would be so very perfect.

But she did not voice that out loud, her eyes as cold and devoid of any thoughts as she surveyed the mundane happenings of the court of the Ceasar Azarin. All she wanted was to be... The Essence and Diety of Pure Magick and she purred at the thought.

"Yes, Lady Rose." She murumured sibilantly, her but a mere, frosty whisper. "You have guessed correctly. Ultimate Power... Perhaps... The Bride of the One? It would be nice to see you kneel and pray to me." She looked at her, her cold eyes mocking and very amused and then disregarded her once more, her own eyes and her dozen arcane eyes surveying the court room for any anomalies that may imperil the life of the new Ceasar.

Do we really need her, My Imperial Majesty? She cast her thought to her Ceasar. I could replicate her body for you, if you want, My August One and perhaps, dump the original to the nearest swamp? Nobody will know, I promise you that. It was just a suggestion and she knew Andolin well that he would think against it. He was the pure epitome of etiquette and protocol .