• Open • Anagénnis (Viden's Grand Ball)

[Diana]

4th of Cylus 721

Weather and Timestamp

Weather: 1st: a snowstorm blows in during the early morning hours. The storm blows over the night on the third.

4th of Cylus: Anagénnis- celebration of Treid allowing the sun to return. Also, about “Rebirth” and the party to celebrate Treid being resurrected. Yvithia holds a ball to celebrate Viden surviving the Cold cycle and the return of Treid, all are invited to attend (unmodded)

A clear, Cylus sky shone its moonlight through the stained windows of Viden's Temple of Worship. Under most circumstances the establishment was a place for the worship of all Immortals that weren't at odds with Viden's Immortal Mistress. But for tonight, on the celebration of Treid's formation of the three moons, and his rejection of Audrae's deception, they celebrated not only the anniversary of that momentous event. Tonight, they celebrated Treid's return to life, by the actions and will of Padraig Augustin. They celebrated Treid's reunion with Yvithia, and their reconciliation. But most of all, this was a night to welcome the survival of those who'd weathered the Cold Cycle, and the anticipation of the inevitable return of Spring, and with it the sun.

The Temple made for a grand location to hold Yvithia and Treid's Grand Ball. In a city with so little crime to begin with, it was unheard of for anything criminal to happen within the walls of the Temple. Blue marble stones lined the walls of the Cathedral, shaping a high vaulted dome ceiling, with grand pillars set on the far corners of the edifice. They held up the dome in a marvel of Videnese engineering and architecture. Shrines to almost every Immortal lined the alcoves at the far end of the Cathedral, but most of the party goers and servants crowded around the more spacious floor beneath the Chapel, where the pews had been cleared in favor of making room for those who wanted to partake of the revelry, and socialize with each other on the open dance floor.

It was still early in the evening when Diana arrived in her new outfit. Linus Gaut, her boss, had insisted that she treat herself to some nice new clothes, and jewelry. Of course, he'd insisted she do it out of her own pocket, which was of course so very like him. Yet, while the old honey badger of a man ran the Devil's Advocate like a tight-fisted miser, he was good to the girls that worked for him, and paid them fairly. As an added incentive to be his representative at the Ball, he'd offered her time off, in order that she'd be able to finally pursue a Letter in education in the course of her chioce. That had been the tipping point in her decision to come as his rep, and serve his famous honey-citrus wine, that he received from his old contacts in Athart.

So there was an element of excitement for Diana as she arrived in her best clothes. She wore a yellow gown of thick wool. The fabric was lined and trimmed with black wool, which provided padded covering around the bust and collar of the dress, modestly covering her chest and neck. A thinner trimming lined the hem of her sleeves and her skirt which fell to her ankles. She wore lambskin leggings and boots to ward off the cold. Over the gown, a light mantle of black fur wrapped around her neck and shoulders, while a sash of the same fur color wound its way around her waist, giving her otherwise formless gown some shape.

She also wore some jewelry in accordance with the servants' dress code, advised by Linus that she wouldn't be taken seriously as a representative without proper accessories. So she wore an Iron Neck Torc decorated with two small fire agates at the end of each pair of tines. At the back of the torc, was attached a cobalt body chain, which wrapped around the collar of her mantle, down to a series of bracelets on her left wrist. Around the sleeve of her other arm, she had a bronze armlet, with floriated wire-work. Her finger bore an etched bronze ring, and the wrist of the same hand a trio of iron bracelets decorated with many small rose quartz. She'd taken off her gloves on entering the Temple, as it wasn't quite that cold inside. Plus she'd need the added dexterity in order to pour drinks for the guests.

Diana walked into the crowd of party-goers, carrying a tray with a bottle of Linus Gaut's favorite orange wine, as well as a trio of stemless glasses for pouring out samples. She was careful, and slow on her feet as she walked into traffic with the glasses balanced precariously on that tray. Slightly, ever so slightly, the glasses began to tremble a bit as she began to think too hard on her ability to maintain balance. But she steadied the tray with her other hand, bearing it with both her arms.

"The Devil's Advocate's finest spirits, for your enjoyment, Madam, Sir...?" She offered to any and all who made eye contact with her. She did hope to make some contacts for poor Linus tonight. Perhaps if he landed some funding or a benefactor, he could finally get rid of the sticky layer of dried piss and ale that clung to the floor of his dilapidated establishment...

[Cyrus]

4 Cylus 720

The door swung open to reveal a man of equal height, his grin broad and welcoming as he reached out to clasp Cyrus on the shoulder, drawing him into the soft glow of candlelight, "We thought you might stay out in the pass," he said, stepping back to reveal a modest room where two other Ellune sat, both female. They looked up from where they sat on the floor, a bag of thick ribbon, barrettes and jewelry beside them. One woman smiled, waving, while the other currently sitting while her hair was being braided, greeted him softly and then seemed to focus intently at the far wall.

"I thought about it," Cryus answered honestly, setting his hammer against the stone wall, glancing again at the women, "But we should celebrate His return."

"As the moon shines," De'la'ra chanted, adding a ribbon to the other woman's hair, "It's good to see you, Cyrus. It's not healthy for an Ellune to remain isolated."

"De'la'ra," he pretended not to hear her comment and glanced back at Veyram, who had disappeared to the side room. Standing at the edge of the room, he stepped forward, closing the space between himself and the women quickly. He crouched, receiving permission to rummage through their hair accessories until the Ellune, whose name had hadn't learned yet, tilted her head to regard him.

"Hello."

She looked away, "Hello."

Neither made introductions, causing De'la'ra to snort at their awkward behavior, "Cyrus, this is Maerim, Maerim, Cyrus," Veyram rejoined them, tossing a pair of trousers that hit him in the head.

"Put those on," Veyram ordered, "I'll let you borrow them; Tonight we honor Treid."

And apparently his current appearance wasn't doing the Immortal justice.

Unfolding the pair of trousers, Cyrus looked between the trio and sighed. It was the least he could do.

***

By the time they arrived, Cyrus was wearing a borrowed pair of azure pants, his hair combed and braided in a warrior's style. De'la'ra had added necklaces to drape across his chest carved from whale bone and polished stone, clinking together when he walked. The phases of the moon were painted down the center of his chest and back, ending above the corded leather belt. Beside him, the women wore short dresses of leather and fur, their arms and legs painted with the moons, gems and ribbon laced among their hair. Veyram stood proud as well, adorned similarly to Cyrus, save for the massive bear hide that hung from his shoulders.

The group entered the temple together, relieved to see many other of their kind clustered together like ice formations among the many Eidisi that milled about. Once inside, Cyrus felt less sure, the room warmer than he had imagined. There was more people, too. Uncomfortable, he followed the others and stood with a rigidness, as if ice had managed to enter his very bones.

"The Devil's Advocate's finest spirits, for your enjoyment, Madam, Sir...?"

"Spirits?" Veyram looked down, genuine surprise brightening his gravelly voice, before looking at the crew, "Aye, I think we'll give it a try. Four drinks?" De'la'ra and Maerim agreed. It was a rare treat to find brew in Viden.

Cyrus shook his head. A drunk Ellune could be a dangerous thing, "Three."

"Four," Veyram repeated, grinning at the dark haired woman adorned with gems. She was tall for a woman, "My friend here still hasn't quite figured out what celebration means."

Cyrus frowned, crossing his arms. Looking at the server, he noticed she was not like the milky-eyed Eidisi. Her hair was dark, as were her eyes. Human? More interesting than that, he spied the gems she wore, no longer interested in trying to convince Veyram that his tolerance was non-existent. He waited for her to serve their drinks and then stepped away from the Ellune, caught in the craftsmanship of the woman's bracelets. Metal and stone. Some of which, he thought he recognized, "Your..." what was the word in Common, "Stones. Gems. Metal," He wanted to ask if she knew who had made the adornments and instead held a hand to his throat and wrists, It was very possible she wouldn't, most were given it to wear, not interested in the sourcing. Either way, he lacked the language to clarify his interest, "Much pretty wonder. You know who creator is?"

Common

[Doran]

The last ball that the son of Ziell had ended – the Mummer’s Ball in Rharne – had ended with the death of the Immortal Syroa whom he had once served. The memory of what had happened in Vhalar still made him thoughtful on a regular basis, but he had not become wary of balls in general. He had always been a rather reasonable man and realized that the chance of two tragedies of such magnitude occurring in quick succession was miniscule, at best. The ball that took place that evening would involve no violence and no deaths. It would be exactly what a ball should be, and for that reason, he looked forward to it.

It was held in celebration of Treid’s resurrection and his reunion with Yvithia, his Immortal aunt, and the end of the Cold Cycle which was a joyous occasion and the reason why he had immediately decided to attend when he had received an invitation. At first, it seemed strange to him that the ball would be held at the Temple of Worship, that people would dance in a building that was dedicated to the worship of the Immortals, but it made sense for a celebration that was dedicated to an Immortal to be held in a place where people prayed.

Due to the continued absence of Llyr, he had decided to attend the ball with a colleague of his, Orik Qy’Azour, a chemistry professor and one of the newest employees of the Institute of Sciences. He was not uncomfortable when he was alone, and he did not worry about not being able to find a dance partner – that kind of behaviour seemed pointless to him – but he appreciated the company of other people more than he used to, and Orik was someone that would not bore him with small talk. They would always have science to talk about.

~~~

By the time the two professors arrived at the Temple of Worship – their trip through Viden had been quite pleasant as the snowstorm had finally let up – Doran was dressed in an elegant bespoke grey-blue suit made of fine wool that was embroidered with delicate silver and golden threads at the edges, like the clothes that he had Governed in his dreams so many times. His feet were encased in dark leather shoes, and a black cloak was draped across his shoulders. It was less extravagant that the feather cloak that he had worn to the Mummer’s Ball – this ball seemed like a more serious affair – but it was no less elegant.

He wore little in the ways of jewelry, apart from two rings, one of which would hopefully ensure his continued existence.

The young half biqaj next to him, approximately thirty arcs of age, with tanned skin, dark hair and slightly pointed ears was dressed in a dark suit, with a matching dark wool coat that was finer than his usual clothes. He was, obviously, a bit uncomfortable in those elegant clothes (he normally dressed quite casually), and when they stood in front of the door, about to enter, he admitted, “Did I already tell you that I don’t really know how to dance? If it weren’t such an important occasion, I would have thought twice about attending.”

“It is not that hard”, the Mortalborn tried to put his worries to rest and smiled very lightly. “I can show you how to dance, and besides, I doubt that anybody will judge your dancing skills. Just relax and try to enjoy yourself”, he told him in a calm tone of voice, briefly thinking about Daia and her mark that he bore nowadays and that took the shape of a flaming scar in the center of his chest. He had not thought that she would ever bless him, or that Xiur, the Immortal of Hope that he had tried to kill in Oscillus would forgive him and grant his mark, but he was infinitely glad that they had, and he was proud of it.

“Shall we?” he asked and raised a dark eyebrow questioningly.

~~~

Once inside, after someone had announced their arrival, the son of Ziell made his way to where the shrines were located, in order to kneel down for a few moments and honor the Immortals before he joined his colleague on the open dance floor. There were a few differences to the Mummer’s Ball besides the lack of violence, he observed, as he let his gaze drift around the room. There were a fair number of Eidisi and Ellune, most of them taller than he was, among the guests, and there was a distinct lack of drunkards in the ballroom.

Although it seemed as if at least bit of alcohol was being served, he noticed, as his gaze fell on the young-dark haired woman in her yellow gown, which was a rare occurrence in Viden. Since another man, Cyrus, although he didn’t know his name, was currently talking to Diana, he waited for a moment to give her time to address his questions before he approached her.

He had little interest in the ways of Rharne, but he was not entirely averse to a bit of alcohol every now and then.

“What do you have, miss?” he asked the young woman in a deep and polite tone of voice and glanced at the glasses on her tray for a moment – he was not entirely sure what all of the drinks were – before he raised his head and met her gaze. “What would you personally recommend?” he continued. He did not really frequent the Devil’s Advocate as it was a bit on the seedy side – he had only been there once in the past two arcs, in fact, with Sybil Malach – and thus he was not familiar with what they were offering.

He just knew that it was one of the few places where you could drink alcohol in Viden.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

What kind of Xypha (who happened to reside in the general vicinity of Viden) wouldn't attend the Grand Ball?

Llyr did not know, but he certainly decided that he needed to be there. Of course, the Cathedral drew him as it was such a wonderful venue for a ball. It had been a long while since Llyr had allowed himself to simply mingle in public, but such a disappearance from social life was hardly unusual for the strange, mystical biqaj. It had been around the same time last arc that he'd gone missing as well, not seen until later in the Ashan season. Perhaps it had much to do with his birthday, whenever it rolled around in the late of Zi'da, and he withdrew from the world and all within it.

Of course, it hadn't meant he wasn't... around... it only meant he wasn't seen. The mage's constant use of his totems, his artifacts, and his network all worked to essentially keep him hidden. In the past arcs, Llyr had discovered many ways to hide in plain sight; a habit he'd always had, though he'd had to adapt quite a bit due to his mutations...

Mutations which were on complete display tonight. From his multicolored transparent wings, to his halo, to the mark of Yvithia across the one side of his face, Llyr hadn't suppressed his magic for the night. He wore white, white as the snow, lined with a faint blue glimmer much like the ice that covered Viden's grounds for most of the arc. Long, lanky white-gloved fingers weighed with silver, bone, and shell rings; necklaces hung in wide loops around the high-collar of his bespoke tunic and cape. The cape itself glittered like snow under morning light. His pointed ears hosted an assortment of silver chains and loops. Yet his youthful face remained devoid of any piercings. Yvithia's mark was all the accessory he needed (along with a thin line of charcoal traced around the distinct shape of his biqaj eyes).

Platinum blond hair swept to one side, Llyr had not changed his style much from the last arc; though the strands seemed far more white than blond. The bangs were long, kept out of his face by a thin hairpin, and the back was cut short at the nape of his neck. Mainly so the strands wouldn't get tangled in the various necklaces or high-neck collars that he often wore.

Already with a glass in hand, Llyr seemed as if he'd been there for a while. Eyes, with irises of pale blue, surveyed the crowd while he listened to the woman beside him. She chattered about something happening, elsewhere, in a different city in regard to rumors about mages gathering to create some sort of cult. Or something of that nature. Such rumors weren't uncommon, as Llyr had discovered in his various research of the last arc. His gaze absently followed one of the servers, tray of wine that looked like it might fall if the girl got spooked in just the wrong way.

A smile twitched on Llyr's lips when she approached someone he recognized. Of course, the last time he'd properly seen Doran... had been when he'd snuck out of their bed, and just didn't return after that. No warning, no explanation, except for a simple note that arrived many trails later to assure the older mortalborn that he did not have to concern himself with Llyr's wellbeing. He'd seen his initiate here and there, but had made sure he hadn't been seen in return.

Many things could have gone into why Llyr simply couldn't allow himself to rest in the happiness that Doran offered to provide him. In a rare, uncharacteristic exception to most of his life, Llyr tried to not think too much about it anymore. But... it didn't mean that he hadn't missed the handsome son of Ziell.

The biqaj handed his glass to the chattering woman and said, "I do not wish to discuss business here. Please, return and write a proper report for this matter so I can read about it later."

Quietly, in a near-silent step, Llyr slipped through the crowd. He approached without much hesitation... slightly behind Doran's line of sight.

"I suggest the orange wine," he said, in his natural deep and silken smooth voice, still accented with the southern medley of his Quacian home. The biqaj glanced at the others in the small group that had naturally formed around the server and her tray of drinks. His gaze lingered on Orik for a few seconds as the half-biqaj looked vaguely familiar, but many of the other scholars who walked the libraries did to him. He stepped around, height matched to Doran, and Llyr smiled in a thin but polite expression. "It can be both sweet with a tang though. Reminds me of fruits from the southern jungles, so quite a treat here in the north."

[Diana]

A few Eidisi came forward to fetch drinks from Diana, fixing upon her in their haughty gaze. She took a deep breath before plastering a smile on her face which wasn’t at all convincing. Before she could repeat her pitch, one of them snorted at her, ”Devil’s Advocate. Mirim, didn’t you apprehend one of Gaut’s girls the other night? Something about drunken and disorderly…”

The other Eidisi man smirked at the first, and nodded, ”Aye, found to be engaged in lewd behavior too. We had to take her into detention.” The paper-thin threat was clear to Diana, and she felt a bit shook by it, as the two brusquely passed her by, nearly toppling her tray in the process.

However, she managed to balance it, in time to keep the glasses from falling over, at least. A few bits later, she saw the Ellune, and her eyes widened at their magnificent clothing and body-art. They were… very tall. As a woman on the tall side, she wasn’t used to looking up at others, but here she couldn’t help but. And what a sight they made, as she steadied the tray.

The women were stunning in their dresses, with their snowy hair braided into elaborate knots, complete with jewels and tattooed arms. Then there were the men, who were every bit as imposing as they were handsome. One of them wore what looked like traditional dress, trousers of azure color to complement his skin tone.

She nodded to Veyram, as he said he’d like four drinks. With a shakey smile, she took the tray in one hand, carefully reaching for the decanter. Once this was in hand, she poured out the four glasses asked for, hoping that the four would claim their drinks soon, lest they fall off the tray.

Diana noted Cyrus, the man in the azure pants, who crossed his arms as he looked at her. Once Veyram and the others had claimed their drinks, she turned to him, as the Ellune queried to the nature of her… stones, gems, metal… Her jewelry?

They wore heavily on her, and restricted her movements slightly. She certainly wasn’t used to such adornments, but was very thrilled to have the excuse to splurge for once.

”Much pretty wonder, You know who creator is?”

Diana smiled at him. It seemed like he was trying to be complimentary, anyway. ”Yes! I got it from the market, but I think it was Copper Smythe who made them? Or the Coppersmith, or… Well he has a mark, that you can see if you look closely.” She smiled, as she held up her wrist, with the three bracelets and rose quartz on them.

”Do you like them?”

She did note that another man had come up to her, to request a drink, but didn’t want to turn just yet from this fascinating Ellune that had such an interest in her jewelry. It wasn’t interest in her necessarily but close enough that she found the attention flattering. She almost had to chastise herself, remembering that she was here to serve, not to enjoy the festivities.

”I’ll show you another in a moment? I just need to serve this gentleman some drinks, if you’ll wait?” So saying, she sidled over toward Doran, and gave him a professional smile.

He asked which wine she would personally recommend. There were three or so decanters on the tray, each bearing a different alcohol. There was of course the favorite of Linus, the Orange rind wine from Athart. Then there was pomegranate with hints of coconut milk. Finally, a flask of Lime-flavored whiskey. Certainly not a very classy drink, but in the Devil’s advocate, considered quite a treat by the workmen there.

She was about to suggest which one the gentleman should have, when another interrupted from nearby him.

"I suggest the orange wine," He began, "It can be both sweet with a tang though. Reminds me of fruits from the southern jungles, so quite a treat here in the north."

”Ahh… I…” She noticed the many oddities to his appearance and was quite distracted by them. She nearly forgot that she wasn’t here to gawk at people bearing such marks on them, but to serve the partygoers. ”Quite, Sir. The Orange wine is my boss’ favorite…” Diana bit her lip at that, thinking that it sounded very unprofessional, or perhaps inappropriate to the setting. She should’ve waxed poetic about how nice it was, as the strange man with all the marks on him. For a few moments, she stood still. Until more eyes fell on her, from abroad the ballroom. Then, more people were announced entering the room, and the woman allowed herself to breathe as attention was drawn from her offerings of wine, momentarily. She swiftly, this time, poured out a pair of glasses of Orange wine, for the strange, light-haired, marked man, and the dark-haired one. ” If there’s anything else? You know where to find me.” she said, waiting for them to take the glasses off her tray. She bowed as they did so, shakily balancing the tray on one hand, but managing to keep it upright.

Then, she turned to look for the Ellune she’d been talking to, all while keeping the strange blonde in her peripheral vision. She thought she’d have to watch out for that one, he seemed… dangerous for lack of a better word.

[Rickith Lanza]

Rickith had never really attended a ball, so he didn't know what exactly to expect. His mother had received an invitation for the two of them to attend, so she went out and bought herself a fashionable dress to go in. It was an icy bluish hue, hue on it with cream colored frills on the shoulders. Rickith himself got an average quality suit to go in, with a black jacket, black pants, a white dress shirt under the jacket, and a black bowtie for the occasion. It seemed like they were all ready, and he was brimming with excitement for his first ball he'd ever attend. His mother smiled, as they entered into the ballroom, and took in the scenes around him. There were probably people that his mother knew from the university, but Rickith wasn't sure he'd recognize anyone at the ball at all. Until he saw his alchemy professor.

Seems as though he was in attendance, and a group of people were gathering around the hostess with the drinks she was serving. That was one thing about Rickith though, he didn't like alcohol at all, and was never one for drinking, in fact, he had never had a drink since he'd been born, and had really no interest in drinking. But he was at a ball, so there was a first time for anything, unless they had water. In that case, he would gladly drink some water. He followed his mother, Tressa, as she made her way over to the hostess, and asked, "What might you recommend for the evening? My son here drinks water, so if there is any plain water, he'd be more than happy to drink that, i'd like something more refined, with a bit of a flavor to it... do you have anything in mind?" Rickith would just sit back and listen, his eyes watching the scenery all around him almost with a glow of a child's delight, even though he was definitely an adult. Finally he would speak to the hostess as well, "You have done marvelous to make this place look as splendid as possible. I do admire how you've decorated..."

Smiling, he would wait to see if she answered, or if anyone else said anything to him, as he was more of a passive person, and kind of shy when it came to public events. It wasn't that he didn't like to mingle, he certainly enjoyed talking to people, it was just getting over that first icebreaker that one might have to overcome in order to get to know a person. He didn't have many friends, and being half aukari, it was only dilligent not to keep many friends, as people tended to want to kill you if they found out about your lineage. Luckily Rickith's features took after his mother Tressa, and not his father, so unless he was to tell you (which he learned to not do at a certain age), one would never know of his half-breed status. They would only see hiim as a human with dark black hair and black eyes, not the normal fiery red hair/eyes that aukari are known for...

[Cyrus]

4 Cylus 720

It seemed the dark-haired woman was struggling with the tray of drinks, using a decanter to fulfill the Ellune's request. Veyram grabbed the brews and passed them to De'la'ra and Maerim. Then, lifting up the last stein and holding it out to Cyrus, raised his brow in silent daring. The attention of the women flickered and it was as if the world watched him, waiting. They sipped their drinks and Maerim's gaze felt piercing. Suddenly the room felt hotter. His jaw clenched.

Stepping close to Veyram, Cyrus took the drink and spoke low, his voice a contained rumble, "I do not want this. You've made her pour this for nothing."

"Then you should drink it," he returned, matching the whisper, "Waste not, want not. Now, if you want to join us, I think De'la'ra will be wanting to dance and it's not too late to get on Maerim's good side." Veyram flashed a wink and pulled back, scoffing, "Oh, don't look so grim, Cyrus. The night's young. Live a little."

Veyram lifted his glass and titled back his head, shouting into the air, "For Tried!"

Attendees turned and looked, almost all of the Ellune present returning the chant, holding glasses up or stomping their feet, "For Treid!"

Cyrus sighed and followed suit, although he did not bring the drink to his lips. Instead, he looked to the dark haired woman and was pleased to listen to her explanation. She indulged him with answers, ”Yes! I got it from the market, but I think it was Copper Smythe who made them? Or the Coppersmith, or… Well he has a mark, that you can see if you look closely.”

Her hand lifted higher to allow him an easier view, Cylus touched her her wrist and said nothing at first. Rose quartz was a feminine crystal, often a symbol of healing. Whether she knew that or not mattered very little. He smiled when she explained the bangles origins and nodded at her question.

”Do you like them?”

"Very much," he felt some of his earlier tension release from his shoulders, "Copper Smith is known. I have seen his blades but not his gem metal. I stand in snow and watch him, learning." The Ellune could not stand the heat of the forge for long before he risked overheating, but that hadn't stopped him from lingering past the open bellows and watch as hot iron was dunked in water that hissed like a thousand snakes.

”I’ll show you another in a moment? I just need to serve this gentleman some drinks, if you’ll wait?”

His Common was spotty but he understood enough. It would be nice to discuss something he was interested in, even if she was of the smaller races. And as much as he wished otherwise, he didn't think Maerim had been all that keen to talk to him. Had the Ellune woman suspected, like he had, that tonight was some unspoken arrangement? He looked at his group and then the server before him. And then his eyes drifted, beyond the woman to find Doran Thetys, a man who had once requested his assistance in Ellune cultural matters. At least he had the sense to come to a celebration such as this one. He nodded to Diana, and then to the aspiring dean, "I will wait."

Cyrus withdrew, moving towards some of the other Ellune, who spoke in a mix of Leni and Common. Both languages which he struggled with. He didn't know if he had always fumbled with them, or if it had been a side effect of his hibernation. There was so much he couldn't remember about that time in his life. He knew roughly he had once had an Eidisi lover, perhaps the reason he spoke Ancient so well. But why had his mother tongue slipped away? Why couldn't he speak more than the basics of Common? It was as if any specialized terms simply eluded him, always forgetting. Like jewelry. Trying to recall his past made the Ellune's head hurt and he brooded, grasping at the words he did recognize in an effort to be included. Because he felt so ignorant when he spoke, Cyrus usually preferred to stay silent. He liked to watch. The giant sighed and took a drink before realizing what he had done and immediate bristled at the taste, spitting it back into the mug with a twisted grimace. It was a graceless display that didn't earn him any brownie points with the others who had heard his distaste.

Some laughed, others pretended not to notice his presence. He smiled sheepishly, using the back of his hand to wipe at his mouth, some of the decorative paint on his fingers smearing. He didn't give it much mind, sitting, watching, and of course, waiting.

[Doran]

Unlike Diana, the son of Ziell didn’t think that her comment about Orange wine being her boss’ favorite sounded unprofessional or, perhaps, inappropriate to the setting. On the contrary, in his opinion it made sense that she would recommend her boss’ favorite drink to him, although he glanced at some of the other drinks, regardless, in order to see what else she was offering. He was just about to tell her what he wanted – he only drank alcohol irregularly, but he felt like drinking a bit of alcohol now – when he suddenly heard a voice, a voice that he had not heard in seasons, but that he instantly recognized, nevertheless.

(He didn’t think he’d ever not recognize the sound of his voice, no matter how much time passed between their meetings.)

For a brief moment, for perhaps the fraction of a trill, the son of Ziell who was utterly calm and disciplined most of the time, even in the face of beings of great power, froze because he had not expected to meet him, at least not here, before he turned around and simply smiled. The last time that he had seen his mentor and lover had been shortly after Llyr had told him that he was a Mortalborn, just like he was. He had snuck out of their bed and left, without saying a single word and only sent one letter, trials after his unannounced disappearance. In spite of that, he found himself unable to be mad at him or, perhaps, irritated.

To him, a couple of seasons didn’t feel that long, especially not compared to the centuries that he had already been alive. Besides, what he had said to Llyr back in Ymiden, when they had last seen each other, had been the truth. He would wait a hundred arcs, a thousand arcs, and even until the end of time for another chance to be with him.

“Orange wine it is”, he told Diana in a calm and deep tone of voice that hid his surprise, for the most part, and took a glass off her tray. Provided that Llyr wanted something to drink, he would hand him a glass as well before he turned to face him once more. He raised his glass, just as the people around him toasted to Treid as well, took a sip, finding the unfamiliar drink quite pleasant, before he extended a hand and remarked, “There is a lot that I want to tell you. Would you like to dance with me?”

“I missed you”, he whispered in a softer tone of voice, too soft for anybody else to hear him and met his gaze for a moment – he remembered that Llyr had always been slightly reluctant to be obviously affectionate in public, although there had been secret messages during a class that he had taught for example (he wondered what his students would say if they knew; it would without a doubt shatter their worldview, at least to a minor extent).

It was just then that Rickith, a student of his, approached the server (the young woman and her drinks seemed to be quite popular). He briefly turned around and inclined his head in a greeting, smirking slightly at his obvious, almost childlike delight (he liked that something as simple as a ball could make someone so happy), but before long, his attention was on Llyr again, and he waited for the younger man to say something to him.

In the meantime, Orik who had temporarily parted ways with Doran when the Mortalborn had visited the shrines in order to pray asked Diana for a glass of pomegranate wine with coconut before he took a few steps back. Just like Cyrus, the young professor usually preferred to watch. He had gotten less shy since he had started to teach at the Academy, but he was still not that sociable, and before long, he positioned himself near the Ellune, not laughing at him, but simply observing the people that were around them.

Doran had offered to show him how to dance, but he was glad that he might not have to give it a try right away.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

The tall biqaj's eyes shifted in colors, a blend of iridescence, while his gaze slowly slid away from Doran and to the various others of the ball. Perhaps, he supposed, it might have been best if he mingled with all the cunning niceties of a socialite, but despite how young Llyr truly was in body - his mind had grown quite weary in the arcs past. A consequence of extensive travels in Emea... of magic that crowded his souls with sparks... of his mortalborn lineage and the fractures that marred his fingertips... or of the troubles of love and life? All of the above, he would wager. Regardless of the cause, Llyr looked at the people around him with a surrendered sense of apathetic exhaustion.

Whether this was obvious or not, however, proved questionable.

For Llyr smiled when the hostess agreed with him. A charming, calm smile for the endearing comment made. His gaze languidly drifted from the shy woman, to look toward the entrance as more people were announced.

As his gaze returned, he found a glass of Orange wine offered to him. He smiled at Doran, then accepted it. Though in his peripheral he knew the hostess bowed, he didn't look toward her again. He only said a polite, "Thank you." in the Ancient Language.

With a small raise of his glass, he toasted along but his sight remained on the son of Ziell beside him. His eyes continued to swirl in pale colors.

Llyr hardly took a sip of the wine, despite his own recommendation of it. As in the past, he still did not readily drink in public spaces. More habit than actual concern of poisons, now, but still the case. It did not matter, though, as he soon had an excuse to abandon his drink.

His pale gaze flitted to look at Doran's hand. The calm smile that lingered on his lips grew a little brighter, a tad more sincere. He nodded in agreement to the offer to dance and set his untouched wine aside on whatever host's tray was nearest to him.

Taking the other mortalborn's hand, he stepped closer but did not lead. He would allow Doran to guide them, wherever. A slight lean, closer, as he caught the whisper. Llyr held the gaze, fondness that softened his youthful features, but he didn't answer quite yet.

Doran's wayward attention didn't bother Llyr, either. While the professor nodded to greet someone (likely a student), Llyr's arm slid in a graceful caress to hold onto the older's elbow. He stepped a little closer, more so than mere associates would dare. The blond pivoted somewhat, almost as if to cling to Doran rather than distance himself. How he had missed him, and he had not realized the extent until he felt the warmth of the other's hand in his.

Close, arm wrapped around Doran's arm, Llyr whispered, "And I missed you."

"Shall we dance now, doctor?" asked Llyr, no longer whispering, while he moved slightly to give the older a bit more space. "I cannot claim to be very accomplished when it comes to such things, so perhaps you might help guide me? I promise I will endeavor to not accidentally step on your foot."

Provided nothing halted their path, Llyr followed Doran's lead and only once they'd gotten a certain rhythm with each other, did he speak again: "Doran... you have been faring well? I heard things have been going well for you at the academy. How goes your research? Still collecting blood from mages and the like?"

[Diana]

A woman and her grown son approached the corner where Diana and a few others had congregated. Diana looked to her expectantly, as she began talking to her, "What might you recommend for the evening? My son here drinks water, so if there is any plain water, he'd be more than happy to drink that, I'd like something more refined, with a bit of a flavor to it... do you have anything in mind?" Diana gaped a little, not quite sure how to respond to the woman. At first, she presumed she might be joking about her son's preference for water, but he made no objections. He went on to compliment her on the Temple's decor, "You have done marvelous to make this place look as splendid as possible. I do admire how you've decorated..."

Diana stifled a laugh that threatened to slip out. She nodded to the lady and poured her some of the pomegranate wine with hints of coconut milk. She nodded that she should take it off the tray. Then Diana turned her attention to the son, and spoke slowly, "I think, you'll find plenty of water fountains set up around the Temple. Or perhaps they're serving ice? I don't know. I'm not here to lug water for people to drink, these are just samples of spirits on offer at the Devils..."

She glanced at the two men she'd left behind, after handing them some drinks. One of them said something in a language she couldn't recognize. Noncy Ponce, showin' off 'is fancy talk. That's what Linus would've said, she thought, if he were here. Diana wasn't bothered by it, though. There were bound to be all sorts at the ball, at least he hadn't tried to openly humiliate her.

Diana was getting bored with this job of promoting her boss' spirits already. She didn't feel like continuing, and besides which her drinks were almost all exhausted by now. She set the tray on a nearby serving table and waved everyone who would hear over, to enjoy the drinks if they would. "Devil's Advocate's finest spirits, have them here."

So saying, she excused herself from the gaggle of academics, to find the intriguing ice giant she'd told to wait.

She had to do some searching to do so, and couldn't spot him immediately, even as large as he was. He must've been sitting. She spotted the crowd of Ellune near the middle of the hall, and there amongst them was the male she'd met before. Smiling, she approached him, and once there took a seat nearby him. He was very cold, his body emanating a chill like ice. But she didn't mind it all that much under her layers. She glanced up and down at him, wondering what he was like.

If she caught his eye, she'd smile again, and cock her head to the side, sweeping some hair from her neck to show him the agates on the end of the tines of her torc. They were a bit smallish, so he'd probably have to squint to get a good look at them. She invited him closer to look at the jewels. "They call these stones, agate." She said, turning her eyes to watch his reaction.