In With the New

[Rhydian SolKor]

King Rhydian Sol'Kor

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"My smile is ever yours to invoke." Rhydian answered, his eyes consummately adoring as they alighted on his liege and love. That smile lingered, albeit slightly faded, as Ailuin led him toward a pair of guests. Though Rhydian had never met either of the statuesque men, he had been primed on the identities of the more important guests. As he'd been particularly intimidated by the notion of demi-gods and dragons attending his nuptials, he'd spent a particular attention to the intel on those guests. He recognised both of them on sight and delivered an appropriate bow for the company and setting.

"I am pleased to make your Highness' acquaintance, as well as Your Lordship's." He offered with a less careless smile than that which he'd worn for his newly-minted husband alone.

"It was good of you both to make the trip. The reach and draw of my king's puissance never ceases to awe me. I hope you were able to find some modicum of diversion between the duration and the esotericism of our nuptial rites..."

Octavian Phædryn-Sol'Aværys Phocion Princeps

Kala's plus one was not unlike the younger groom in terms of his ease in social functions and this one was, for him, particularly loaded. Though it might surprise some to know it, the predominant feeling rising the to top of a heady mix, was excitement. A big part of him had been eager to accept this invitation as soon as it was presented, but politics demanded other voices weigh in. He was surprised at his draconic half-brother's enthusiastic encouragement, which seemed to be born of a vexation that he himself had not been invited, despite the obvious reasons. He was further surprised by The Crownwyrm's indulgence and his mother's approval, and that led him to today. Though he was piggybacking off of another's invitation, Phocion was the first Solunarian citizen to be formally received in Silfanore in millennia. He'd have loathed being a king, but a pioneer? That was a role Phocion quite enjoyed. He smiled, genuinely, to Kala. Her company promised to keep him on his pioneering path, for as long as she deemed him worthy.

"It is not uncommon in Solunarium either, dear one. Most of our Sovereigns will, on certain occasions and in certain festivals, be amongst the people. Most of our Sovereign's are also Grandmaster Mesmers surrounded by world-class mages of all acceptable disciplines poised to snap the necks or sunder the consciousnesses of any would-be aggressors, though, so you know... make of that what you will." He cracked a grin, and chuckled to himself a bit so that any curious bystander overhearing him might reasonable belive that to have been a joke.

He nodded, taking in a deep, steeling breath, as he tightened his grip on Kala's arm and began the march to greet the newlyweds.

"I see Kalzasi is well represented in Silfanore, this day. Is that not Prince Talon and Lord Aoren speaking with them now?"

Tyrann Xekourassi, Lord of the Surf

Tyrann had made sure to seek counsel on how best to present himself at an Hytori wedding and was happy to find that, despite their many byzantine ideas of etiquette and decorum, there was no rule on the books that demanded his wedding attire involve shoes, which were anathema to him and one cultural contrast he could not abide when leading a life on land.

He padded into the pavillion with only his honour guard for companions, each dressed in a more ornate version of their usual, form-fitting, magically malleable metal armour. Tyrann himself was garbed in a finely crafted doublet that looked to be made of a similar material to that worn by his guards, or perhaps it was merely a particularly intricately-hewn brocade.

His pale eyes danced about the room and quickly catalogued the familiar faces and the pretty ones. He smiled to Sivan and lifted a hand to wave his fingers at his newly-discovered kinsman. But he seemed to be engaged with other company and, not wishing to intrude, he supposed he would move toward the queue that was forming to greet the other familiar figures- who happened to be the royal family. But, whilst most were prioritising the couple-of-the-hour, Tyrann would let those with greater stake in the marriage, have their go before he sauntered over to them. He would, instead, seek out one of the first of the Hytori he'd come to regard as a friend.

"Your Royal Highness." Tyrann flourished in his low bow to Prince Sorononar, speaking quietly and conspiratorially as he rose to lean close

"How it pleases me to see your sweet face. I do hope you'll save me a dance, if this part of your confusing customs contains a dancing portion." He smirked and bit his lip.

[Akantha SolEilran]

It was, thus far, a good turn out. Her youngest brother was with their mother. Soren was around here somewhere. The weather was behaving, her aunt was busy with Vhexur, and Akantha had already greeted him earlier. There was still no sign of Adamantos, which was a disappointment in that she had hoped her third parent would be able to make it. Aerion had been quite a-buzz, more than Akantha had ever remembered it being, but considering the child of one of their diarchs was the new king-consort, well. They had plenty of reason to celebrate.

So did they all. Even if Kala had brought her princeling from across the Crystal Sea.

Akantha had been expecting Kaus, as usual, or perhaps her eldest brother as the Lord of Starfall considering the event, but when she had brought Phocion… well, there was nothing for it. This was the judgment of the King and his council, and she had faith in their own people here. She also had to trust Kala’s judgment.

Even if she didn’t like it, she buried it deeply and would keep others away from it as her training from Vomira Val’Melua had taught her. This was going to be a good day. Everyone looked amazing, there was no sign of the company that had breached the pavilion last Ash, though she had reached out to their captain to make sure that there would be neither hide nor hair of them anywhere within the Capital on her Father’s wedding.

She expanded her awareness with Semblance, browsing auras breezily beyond the pavilion to look for someone to see if they were there. There was a pinch at her elbow, and she looked over that shoulder to see what Sorononar was up to. Ah, aetherwine. “Thank you,” she accepted the glass from him, offering a smile as she looked him over now that he had come up beside her. She raised her drink to him as well in the silent toast. The day had come, it was what it was, and it would come again in a few decades. “I will be going out soon. There is someone outside of the pavilion, though not far, that I intend to bring in to introduce to a few people..." Likely a Maker, then, that had been busy this season. That was not out of the range of normal for Akantha. "But Maker Val’Corralais did such a good job on this,” she didn’t need to adjust his attire for him. She was going to say something else, but it didn’t take long before Tyrann approached them... and the Neptori had clear eyes for her brother and him alone.

“It is good to see you, Lord Tyrann. Are you enjoying the day thus far?” Akantha inquired with a smile. He may have been quiet, but an Animist had no problems with that with the right totems, and she did - with her mountain lion. “And there will be ample opportunities for dancing. I am sure Prince Sorononar will be pleased to do so with you." He teased her enough, after all, but Akantha did hope he had his contraceptive ward on his person...

"There is no rose without a thorn."

[Kala Leukos]

.

Kala had, in fact, ulterior motives for bringing Phocion.

Having become an avatar of the concept of Unity, the enmity between the elves of the homeland and the elves of the desert was anathema to her. They had their separate lands to live and worship as they chose; she didn't see why they had to maintain diplomatic silence for centuries into millennia.

She found Phocion delightful, and knew he delighted in the copies of books and scrolls she legally brought from Silfanore to Solunarium by way of Kalzasi. To know she was able to take him somewhere he might only have dreamed of going, somewhere generations upon generations of his people might have dreamed of going, was, she thought, a mutual delight. Clearly, she was still hung up on having some sort of romance with the man she married.

That being said, she was enjoying the long, long courtship with no expectations. She would now be more long-lived even than the elves, and so her perspective on what needed to be rushed and what didn't was changing accordingly.

"Oh, there are smiling faces around us ready to snap our necks if we threaten anyone," she told him, dire words soft and at odds with the serene smile on her face. She caught Sivan's gaze and her smile widened as she waved; he was engaged and she was certain he would not want to see the inside of the royal pavilion if he could help it. "But don't worry; I'll protect you."

It felt right to be able to protect someone given the gradual change of her nature from just another young Avialae to something greater.

She peered into the pavilion and saw the Kings of Sol'Valen chatting with Talon and Aoren.

"So it would seem. I saw them at a winter ball, and, from what I gather, he has spent some time here poring over records in the various libraries for information about some artefact in his possession." She didn't have any details on the matter to share, but she assumed Phocion knew more about Talon than she did, given how much he knew about 'Dæmon.'

Kaus and her merry band of Silver Wings were scattered around the Suionaeon hill, enjoying themselves and close enough to come to her aid should the need arise. Inside, she also could make out Akantha and her brother speaking to a Neptori, perhaps the envoy from the seas that she had only heard about but hadn't met. Perhaps she ought to speak to him while she was here; no doubt they could briefly discuss trade between their realms and she could say she was productive on that day of merry-making.

Sorononar hadn't passed Akantha's flute and taken a sip from his own before Tyrann was there, and so he had to swallow before acknowledging the bow with a grin and a gracious nod. He would have rolled his eyes at his sister, but this wasn't Eilranoikos, even with the more prominent security.

"There will be musicians in the pavilion from time to time, but mostly just to make pleasant accompaniment. I am certain we could find dancing somewhere on the hill, though. I will not let you trip."

After a pause, he offered a 'conspiratorial' note: "Don't ask Akantha to dance, though. She can barely breathe in most of her haute couture gowns. One of these days, I'm going to have her corset tightened a little too tight in order to clear my way to the throne."

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[Filaurel]

"Welcome, Master Dhruv." Filaurel followed up on Sivan's introductions, "Ah. Thank you for your offer, but best not- many grains disagree with my stomach. I would hate to spoil the festivities with an unwelcome air, if you take my meaning."

Filaurel's tone was measured, but his words were formal and his tone seemed judgmental, almost affronted. Sivan, of course, knew by now that this was not really the case; the tailor just sounded like that whenever he met new people. If Len'Alen were actually annoyed by Dhruv's demeanor or attire, he gave no real sign of it.

He was, of course, carefully observing the garb of everyone present. Hell, that was half the reason Filaurel came to these things, wasn't it? If a tailor didn't keep abreast of the changing styles, the trends, the things people were looking for and--perhaps just as important--the things people were starting to move away from... well. That was a good way to lose your business, and Filaurel was just now on the cusp of finding a whole new class of clientele.

"Well, in the worst case, you will not have to wait long before the royals begin to filter out. That is what I wait for, personally. Not to speak with them, of course, but I do need a better look at what they wear today. What the people see the Princess wear will shape what clothes they seek for years to come, in ways great or small, and so I cannot afford to miss it."

Still, there were other bits of business to attend to while he waited for the royals to emerge from their silken cocoon. A pencil and sheaves of paper produced themselves quietly from Filaurel's little travel-bag and straightened themselves against a nearby wall, sketching the basic outline of a woman on the other side of the crowd whose look had caught the tailor's eye. Whatever the pleasantries here, it was paramount that he have some notes to bring back.

[Talon]

T A L O N

Aoren stood quietly beside him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder with thumb sliding back and forth in soft support. When the Phoenix King and consort presented themselves, Talon rose smoothly to his feet. As one, both he and Aoren gave a bow to the royal couple. When Ailuin offered his comfort, both he and Aoren exchanged a look. He was surprised at the kindness but it was not an unwelcome one. After Ailuin introduced each of them, Talon lightly pressed a hand over his heart.

“Gratitude, your majesties.” Talon smiled. “This is a joyous occasion. We thank you for the solace it has granted us. Sol'Valen has long deserved Light and Hope. I am glad that through you both, it is returned.”

“Agreed, King Rhydian. Your union, it seems, brought a great many together at this junction in time.” Aoren inclined his head toward some of the assembled and the figures just beyond the sanctuary of the pavilion. The crimson witchfires that burned in his dark red eyes glowed softly like banked coals.

“A wanderer of old ways. A scion of the desert kingdoms of the south? With Lady Kala, no less? And is that…” Aoren squinted at a figure, Talon followed his gaze. As soon as his eyes settled on the man, a memory, old and comforting welled up within his soul. A past where he had carried this particular demigod's mark, braving leviathans in waters drowning in eldritch chaos.

“Vhexur.” He recalled distinctly the life of a past incarnate, Xyren, a Moratallen of the sea that had mantled Hope at the Oddsmaker's prompting. On the edges of his memories, he thought he could still feel the echo of the knot-work markings that had proclaimed him as one of Vhexur's chosen. Talon did not intrude on the Moritasi's presence but if there was one thing he knew about the Trickster, it was that he was always exactly where he wanted to be, exactly when he wanted to be there.

“Is that Dhruv? And…a Neptori, near Princess Akantha? I have never had the pleasure of meeting one. As always, Sol'Valen remains a realm where the unlikely always remains not merely a possibility but rather, an eventuality.” Talon's eyes studied the marvel of Akantha's gown for a moment, perhaps a moment that was too long given that Aoren gently nudged him with a mental chuckle. Talon blinked and then looked to the company that was near the Princess of Thorns.

“On that note, let's not occupy their royal majesties attentions the whole time, hmm?” Aoren wrapped an arm around Talon's waist, pulling him gently into a soft kiss pressed to his temple. Although Talon was content to be a wallflower, he knew that it would be good to go out and mingle. He was grateful for the gentle push that Aoren gave him.

“Thank you, your majesties, for the joy and hope that you have shared and inspired.” Talon bowed alongside Aoren before the two politely dismissed themselves in order to make their way toward Akantha, Kala, Phocion and Sorononar.

[Hekatos]

In With the New

The Suionaeon did not rise so high as the Vounópolis, though from its lightly forested summit, one could enjoy amazing views of the city. Though the homes and other buildings of the Unque neighborhood from which it rose went up a little ways, most of it had been left to the trees, the grasses, and the flowers. At the top, there was a shrine to Wraedan Hegetes and the hero-saint Meliatar. The royal pavilion, of course, was not pitched more than halfway up the great hill where there was a space that was relatively level and free of trees. It was a temporary structure as were the kiosks and such bearing food and drink hither and thither around the Suionaeon, and one could see private parties on rooftops and through the windows of the homes at its base.

Much of the pavilion was draped in cloth to offer shade and privacy, but there were various guarded openings to allow for air circulation. That heavy cloth, though, was bespelled to be as impervious to damage as stone, and to absorb sound.

As if sensing eyes upon him, Vhexur turned, winked at Talon, and then went back to his conversation.

The king might have been offended that a guest he approached so summarily and quickly quit his presence, but he glanced whither Talon's gaze had gone, and then he smiled graciously and nodded. After a brief moment to savor with Rhydian as the only one in his near orbit, he leaned into his consort to murmur, "Methinks our Princess of Thorns has an admirer, or two."

Then he gestured to a servant, who came close enough for him to murmur something even Rhydian didn't hear.

"At once, Your Royal Majesty," she said, bowed, and disappeared through one of the points of egress that wasn't expected to be a point of ingress for anyone else.

*~*~*

Sorononar, nearer the entrance to the pavilion than his father, happened to see the Shinsei of Kalzasi and the Greatwyrm approaching. He whispered to Akantha, and then smiled back at Tyrann.

"But before we seek out a dancing tune, it seems you are about to meet some Kalzasern guests." He paused, suddenly curious and coming up with a question apropos to the impending situation. "Do the Tide Lords occupy Udori in Karnor? I understand they call it a lake, though its northern shore must only be solid ice for part of the year. Salt water, anyway."

In a quick glance toward the door to note who else might be approaching, he saw another Kalzasern guest with her Re'hyaean plus-one queuing near the entrance with other notables who had invitations or perhaps hoped to be invited in. Some just wanted to be close enough for a glance at the royals when they weren't out and about. There were some who were obsessed with them, an uncomfortable truth when one came from a line of heroes and one's sister was one of the leading fashionistas of the realm.

"What a cosmopolitan celebration we are having today!"

*~*~*

Outside the pavilion, Kala and her suitor were waiting patiently. Queues were not something she normally dealt with, but patience was a virtue and she was a guest in this realm. Given the king's largesse with regard to Phocion, she was all the more keen not to make any waves that might make him regret it.

Sivan could still see them if he glanced toward the pavilion. They were there so Filaurel could watch some of the more elegant guests approach, and when the royals came out again. Often they had costume changes for long events such as this. Sivan didn't think he would need a change of costume until midsummer or later, when sometimes a day without breezes meant an intolerable heat and humidity thanks to their nearness to the sea and the equator.

In any case, everything was going well after introducing Dhruv and Filaurel, or so he thought.

A pretty woman with dark, dewy skin and burnished golden eyes strode right up to Dhruv and took him by the arm, attempting to drag him away.

"There you are," she said, long-suffering. "Apologies, gentlemen, but I must have the dance I was promised." To Dhruv, who knew her, she added, "You owe me."

[Dhruv]

"Perhaps not," Dhruv drawled his agreement with Sivan without hesitation. Risking being run through by guard, or perhaps more humiliatingly being aggressively shown out, seemed a rather perfect excuse to procrastinate further. 

Of course, whether or not the things Dhruv procrastinated were the result of a pervasive time-blindness or actual intention was always in question. But he was the only one asking and with but ghosts to pretend they did not hear.

Chin down, he considered his bag of cookies and failed to retrieve one, a long-fingered hand dropping when a sprinkle of scorched black sand spilled from his sleeve. He gave an absent brush to the front of his shirt, possibly concerned for cookie crumbs, before looking up at Filaurel. A friendly smile was offered the tailor and humor lightened otherwise darkened gold eyes. Welcome -- and just like that some of the unraveling histories throwing their shadows over him lifted. An unacknowledged hope fulfilled. It was almost comforting. 

"My thanks. A pleasure to meet you, Filaurel," he offered a touch too heavily, before inhaling slow to give Sivan and his outfit a curious study. Unsurprisingly, it was the white silk that captured most of his attention and crept up to his eyebrows. "Did you? And the fabric with the, ah, ghost garden? That's your doing as well? It's quite impressive."

The cookie bag was once again ransacked as the elf appeared to recover from whatever minor pall had taken him, and the air of relaxed enjoyment that he had otherwise displayed resumed. 

"Will it now?" He inquired, and with a tilt of his head toward Sivan as the less likely of his companions to already be aware, added. "It stands to reason. The princess's great-great-uncle set the fashion for a generation." A shrug sloughed off sturdy shoulders. "One of many Sol'Eilran gifts."

Dhruv quieted as he listened and felt the weight of footsteps and the ceaselessly ticking clock. It was just under three beats, his only warning, when her hand landed on his arm and scent that felt like memory scattered sand across the pages of his mental history. Vertigo tilted the whole world, it seemed, and his arm tensed beneath the touch. He resisted for a single heartbeat before his body remembered the cue. His brain still hadn't quite caught up when he staggered playfully at her pulling, taking the opportunity to curve about on a worn bootheel and snake his arm comfortably about her waist instead.

It was in this manner that he turned them, letting her pull motivate them into that dancing turn in the middle of which their eyes met. His brows riddled, the shadow flickered over his face again, and was cleared by the time they came out of the spin. Banished with a laugh even as the most frustrating knowing shoved through him, up against the backs of his teeth where he forced it to come out in a somewhat wild, rich laugh that had once haunted these lands all too long ago.

"My apologies!" Arm still around the woman's waist, he looked back to Sivan and Filaurel. They hardly knew him at all, so maybe the strangeness and disease was in fact well hidden behind that deceptively easy smile. "I'm to my sweet duty then, gentlemen. I'll catch up with you later."

And when the familiar stranger pulled again, he yielded like the wave peeling back from the shore. "Next time I'll listen for the music," he muttered wryly down to her. The cookie bag, still in hand, was tilted toward her. "Cookie for your name?"

[Rhydian SolKor]

King Rhydian Sol'Kor

► Show Spoiler

"We are grateful that you have lent us those two facets of your jurisdiction... Light and Hope."

Rhydian smiled, nodding to Talon in acknowledgement of his compliments and well-wishes. He found Arcas less intimidating in the flesh than he had in theory, all things considered, but it was Aoren who actually caused him to blush. The presence and favour of a Red Dragon was a potent thing indeed and, as a member of House Val'Kor, he was particularly prone to be moved by this momentous moment.

The King Consort's eyes followed the trail of Aoren's as he observed other guests and commented upon them. He pursed his lips curiously at the pair's focus, but by and by they were excusing themselves.

"It has been my pleasure to meet you. Thank you." He bowed and glanced to Ailuin with a furtive cant to one eyebrow as the Kalzasern couple stepped away.

Rhydian smirked at the Phoenix King's observation and nodded, "Can you imagine the spectacle she shall concoct for her own wedding? Gird your coffers whilst you can." With that whispered, he turned to smile at the next in the growing python of a receiving line to approach.

Octavian Phædryn-Sol'Aværys Phocion Princeps

"Oh, but of course there are!" Phocion grinned at Kala's mention of the potential danger to his own princely person, "And that is half the fun." He bit his lip briefly at the offer of protection, and he squeezed her arm. Though his face was boyish, Phocion's expression was typically wizened. Not today. He looked every bit the young elf he truly was as he took in the surroundings and relished both the newness and the threats of what surrounded him.

"Mm..." Talk of Talon's artefact caused Phocion to inspect the Kalzasern prince's person, a flash of Varværyn silver passing over his eyes as they fell upon the token hung from his thick neck.

"Fascinating. In this sea of faces, few are familiar. I should like to greet them at some point this evening, if you are amenable?" Presumably Kala would be expected to greet a compatriot magnatus, but Kalzasern customs remained perplexing to his mind, so who knew?

Tyrann Xekourassi, Lord of the Surf

Tyrann pivoted to Akantha, dipping into another flourishing bow for her benefit. If he'd failed to notice her, he didn't act like it, eliding smoothly into a more saccharine and less conspiratorial tone as he rose to his full height. Naturally he was only an inch taller than Akantha, but his aversion to footwear left him shorter on this particular occasion.

"Your Royal Highness' family are formidible hosts. I came from the sea to bear witness to the bounty of the land and never before have I seen it in greater profusion." He chuckled at the joke Sorononar uttered at his sister's expense. "I see that sibling rivalry is yet another commonality between our cultures..." Turning to Akantha he added, "As is the notion of suffering for the sake of fashion. It might interest Your Highness to know that, at our current court, the favoured fashions are harder to swim in. In fact, there has been a recent trend toward weighted garments that favour slow, graceful walking over facile swimming. Critics of the style call it 'cuttlefish couture', for how they resemble the chtapódia who stroll the seafloor." He smiled, somewhat amused at Sorononar's question about Udori.

"Occupy? No, but it is not uncharted to us. Our major settlements tend to be farther from land in places you would consider remote. It is why we have thrived, but also why my envoy is such a novelty. I have not visited the area myself, but based on the maps I would guess there are Delta Neptori... perhaps a few Coastal, but they... or we, if you take my half into account, tend to prefer warmer climes."


Tyrann shifted his posture as he noted the Hytoris' eyes turning toward approaching guests who were unknown to his eyes, save for his having noted them speaking with the Phoenix King and his groom moments prior. Both were tall and strapping, of a similar body type and similarly chiseled of feature.

[Akantha SolEilran]

"I am delighted that you are enjoying yourself. It is edifying to see your visions come to fruition at such affairs, especially something as important as a royal wedding. My brother does love to joke," Akantha had a serene smile when he commented on her attire. "I am perfectly capable of dancing, but I do believe one of my corsetieres had some very impressive garments for those of the masculine persuasion. I'll be sending him your measurements, dear Soren." She was smiling, but she was so very serious. Soren would definitely be getting some corseted attire for future events when she dragged him to accompany her, and she would make sure he realized just how much the Art was Life.

She listened attentively to Tyrann. Neptori fashion was definitely interesting - she'd had a few gowns made had seemed to contain fish and sealife while still covering her as much as needed, some of which were meant to interest and intrigue. She had asked him before about the styles that were worn at home; some of the others he had mentioned had been put on mnemonosytes so that she could see how those dressed in his court - the fashions of course often had to deal with the water, and that meant some of the more... complicated... garments certainly worked in different ways. She was certain that her Makers would be ready if for some reason she was ever going down below the surface. "I imagine that that must be fascinating to see. It's so interesting how fashion and style evolve over time, and sometimes go through cycles. But always, Art is Life," she sipped her wine flute as Soren leaned in to whisper something to her.

And so they did have two new guests coming over to meet them - Prince Talon and Lord Aoren. Akantha didn't have to turn fully to see them coming, and there was no mistaking the elder red dragon's aura, nor Talon's beside him. She was interested in Tyrann's answer to Soren's inquiry - she imagined that that did make sense, that Neptori settlements were as far away from land as they could be, largely, and she knew that Kalzasi was quite inhabited. There was also the question of the Warrens underneath it, how far that extended, and to what extent it might complicate matters with the Lake itself...

"We are glad that you made your way here, and I do hope you'll continue to enjoy our warm climates for a while longer, Lord Tyrann," she turned slightly now that the two well-dressed northerners were nearly upon them. "Prince Talon, Lord Aoren, it is so good to see you both. I hope you've been enjoying yourself. This is Lord Tyrann Xekourássi. Lord Tyrann, this is Prince Talon, and his husband, Lord Aoren, of Kalzasi." She knew that they had already met her brother, and therefore needed no introduction, but where she would have introduced Tyrann to the demigod and his partner, the Neptori had been unable to venture because of the altitude at which her winter gala had been held. She was looking over their attire with interest, blue eyes taking in every drape and stitch of the fabric.

"There is no rose without a thorn."

[Kala Leukos]

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Smiling at Phocion's wit, she nodded to a steward to welcomed them into the royal pavilion.

"Oh, certainly... you know Dæmon, although I don't know if you have met his husband. I haven't heard his full story from the... well, from the dragon's mouth... Kathar refugee, but also a greatwyrm of the red dragonflight? Perhaps I can be present while you interrogate him. That is... make polite conversation with him."

Assessing the situation, she saw Akantha and her brother speaking to the one she understood to be the Neptori envoy, and the Kalzasern power couple moving in on them. The Kings, at least, were for the moment unoccupied.

"I should think Their Majesties would appreciate a moment to breathe, but we really ought to pay our respects to them first. I would not have expected either of us to be invited here on this day."

Between them, they had found it quite easy to guide, one or the other, while making it look as though they had merely had the concurrent thought to move in a certain direction at the same time. In fact, she was moving them toward Ailuin and Rhydian. Of course, she wouldn't attend a party in Silfanore without spending a fair amount of time with Akantha if the princess could spare it, but as with all public engagements, the princess was on duty, as well, and Kala could respect that.

Ailuin turned Rhydian with a gentle, insistent touch, toward the pair angling for them. His smile was, as always, mysterious. His dreaming eyes took in the foreign prince. They had met briefly the day previous at a more exclusive party in the series of fortunate events that made up the royal wedding, but they had not had a great deal of time to speak, and certainly not one-on-one.

"Your Royal Majesties," Kala said with a bow. It was a strange sort of bow for Sol'Valen, but it seemed sufficient for the king of this place, and it seemed the appropriate amount of respect for a foreign noblewoman to the sovereign of a realm to which she did not belong. "All blessings upon your wedlock, and many happy returns."

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