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At the King's Table
Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2025 5:53 pm
by Hekatos
2nd of Searing, 125th Year of the Age of Steel
The invitation to the king's family home had been waiting for them in their lodgings within the Enclave when they returned from the festivities. Elves, Kala noted—and not for the first time, enjoyed making everything about them seem mysterious and magical.
Their airborne taxi was rather too early, and so they elected to walk through some of the streets of the Callo to take up some of that time. Though her shoes were hidden by her gown, he knew she was walking taller than she actually was. In any case, she didn't complain. He knew enough of the divine to know, most likely, that the bare skin of her back under his hand was no glamour, but a sign of her growing divine power.
As the last of daylight dimmed and magic ignited in crystal-shuttered lamps at regular intervals, they got a sense of what it might be like to be anonymous. At least, nobody paid them any special attention. That might have been an illusion, of course, but Kala had promised she would keep him safe.
Kala was curious about Phocion's reaction to the ancient homeland of his people, the personal reaction more so than the political. But he was a private person, and she a patient one. She tried to create a space between them that made him feel comfortable in sharing, and would occasionally urge or prompt gently.
They turned off of a busier boulevard and eventually she pointed out a more gently lit manse rising above others due to a rise in elevation rather than the size of it. Even the homes of the mightiest in the city were modest by some standards. The actual palace was considered a government building, and was grand as anything in Solunarium, albeit of an entirely different character.
The curves of Eilranoikos were a touch surreal, perhaps a nod to the family's long history of oneiromancy.
"We approach," she noted quietly. "Any last minute questions or concerns you would like to air before we are in the belly of the beast?"
The gates swung open at their approach, and as they stepped onto the grounds, the quiet seemed pregnant as if there were music just too quiet to be certain it existed. While not the most powerful of warders, she had made a habit of casting a bubble around them such that even the sharpest of ears would hear only white noise if they attempted to eavesdrop.
They still had a ways to walk from gate to door, whether for idle pleasantries or other.
Re: At the King's Table
Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2025 7:31 pm
by Rhydian SolKor
Although their lodgings afforded space enough to sleep separately, if so desired, Phocion would offer to share a bed for the night. They were neither of them virgins and Phocion, at least, was increasingly legitimately attracted to his would-be bride. He was open to exploring sex, though he wouldn't push nor even give voice to the matter unless Kala was unequivocally interested. Something about the strangeness of the circumstances of this visit, made the notion of a carnal encounter somehow more enticing to the Solunarian magnatus. Perhaps it felt somehow more forbidden for being in a place that, hitherto this visit, was just so to one of his ilk. Who knew when he would have the chance to breach these borders again, let alone make love behind enemy lines.
Phocion did not find it remarkable that they were anonymous here. He was accustomed to being ignored, as was his wont and, though the princely garb he donned today was not warded after the same fashion as his Sentinel Blacks, he always felt more Vigil than Princeps. It was his default and his preference.
"It feels, to me, like a place of dormant potential... Perhaps I mean stagnant, more than dormant." Phocion offered when questioned as to his personal reaction to their present environs. "The Hytori were once a people of peerless Ambition, but it rather feels as though the Siltori and the children of Re'ha took those parts of them with us when we left. Having lived under the rule of Thalya Derelicta until recently, I understand how those Hungers can fade with time... But, as my mother's son, I cannot but note the ripe possibilties waiting to be dusted off." When Kala offered a chance to air any final thoughts, he shook his head.
"I am content to proceed, if you are." He said, offering his arm as he turned to face the gate.
Re: At the King's Table
Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2025 5:29 pm
by Hekatos
Kala had shared the prince's bed in Silfanore. In part, she wanted to remain close in order to keep him safe. In part, it seemed opportune given they were in a place that was neither his nor hers, and while she might have a slight edge in that she had developed a rapport with certain of the powerful Hytori and was his means of ingress, it felt more as though they were on equal footing here.
She wanted to know the man who sought her hand in marriage, to know whether his hidden passions were as cool as his exterior, to know what he looked like without his masks. She was also young, and wanted to know that she had the skill to please a man.
Kala wanted to be known, too. The matter might have been politic from his perspective, but it was only a matter of time before she rose above politics, at least within Karnor. She would not maintain a public office once her divinity was known, and she had already taken herself out of the succession in Starfall, unless all issue from Aquilios and Kaus were to die out and the people request her intercession until the line could be reforged.
Perhaps Varvara saw bloodlines that way: links in a chain.
Perhaps Phocion reflected Aværys' Hunger.
"Perhaps," she said thoughtfully, but then gently arrested their progress for a moment, "but I think... Don't take this as a critique of Solunarium, please. Many things are hidden in Solunarium, but the edges feel... more apparent. I do not claim to understand your land completely, nor be aware even of the shape of its secrets. Perhaps it is that this land is ruled by the Dream King, but even with all my training, both arcane and not, everything is subtle here. Slippery. There is more chaos under the surface of the order.
"I have shared my concern that you might be a pretty lure on a fishing line. Here, I can't accurately assess... They are mortals. They consider draegir and moritasi as beneath the level that requires worship, though they show respect. Still..." She considered. "I know I can keep you safe here. I would not have asked you to come otherwise. But there are leviathans below us. I know not where they swim, nor to what purpose. Perhaps you will suss it out, though pray you, be circumspect."
She rose onto her toes, and still needed to beckon him down so she could kiss his cheek.
"I rather like you."
There was more to be said, of course, but some of it would have to wait for a postmortem when they were outside Sol'Valen's wards. In any case, once Phocion was ready, they began to walk. She might not know what Ailuin Sol'Eilran's ambitions were, but she was keenly aware of their gravity.
The walk from street through gates and up meandering path was pleasant. Little lights along the path cast downward; there was enough light to see the path, but not enough to ruin the pleasant darkness. If her eyes rose beyond the surreal home of the dreamwalkers to seek solace in the stars, it was in Her nature.
Every little sensation, most too ephemeral to catch, welcomed the person. Magic was likely involved, but perhaps not in the manner one might expect. Magic was involved in everything here. Even those things not inherently magic might be crafted with it, leaving little traces of intention.
Or they all entered some Sol'Eilran dreamscape and didn't know it. Who could say?
As they approached the private home of the royal family, even the edifice was perfectly lit without detracting from the darkness around it. The doors opened at their approach and servants ushered them in. Kala divested herself of a feathered wrap, revealing pale shoulders. Wherever she hid her wings when she didn't need them was a divine mystery.
Re: At the King's Table
Posted: Wed Sep 10, 2025 12:15 pm
by Rhydian SolKor
Phocion tilted his head, slightly bemused at her response but, reflecting upon his verbiage, he suspected his remark about 'stagnancy' may have been interpreted as a broader comment upon the place and its culture, as opposed to the specific geopolitical context in which he'd intended it.
"Why would I take umbrage at your observation that Solunarium is honest about itself?" Phocion inquired through a jovial smirk.
"That is by design. It speaks to one of the central tenets of our beliefs. We are desert creatures, accustomed to the open sands and the blazing sun, where the rock cries out: 'No hiding place'.
"Those sharp edges you remark upon form a pyramid in which everyone knows their place and yea, we use our potent magicks to keep the populace from cutting themselves on its points, but they are well aware of their place in the world all the same." He paused to ponder for a moment, then parted his lips, turning his head toward Kala to speak, but pausing ere voice crossed lips.
"I will reserve further outward observation, but suffice it to say that I may be more the stranger in Silfanore than you, but I am less a stranger to the winding ways of an isolationist culture ruled by powerful elven mages in general. My perspective is prone to be coloured by this context." He rested his weight back on one heel as she made assurances and, to his pleasant surprise, punctuated them with validation.
"And I like you, too." He replied, leaning forward to affirm the sentiment by reaching to tip her chin toward them so she kissed his lips rather than his cheek.
"You mustn't worry more for me than I do. I am not incognizant of the perils and pitfalls into which I walked when first setting foot on the soil of a rival realm. That is what entices me. But neither am I reckless. Sharp edges or not, I promise I have my own tricks up my sleeve should I find myself imperiled outside of your purview." He stepped back, pivoted and offered his arm once more for the remainder of their walk.
Upon reaching the door, which opened to them, he cast a sidelong, smiling glance to Kala.
"Shall we?"
Re: At the King's Table
Posted: Fri Sep 26, 2025 4:05 pm
by Hekatos
Prince Sorononar appeared at an opportune moment in the foyer, nodding graciously to them.
"My lady, Your Serene Highness. Welcome to Eilranoikos."
Physically, he took after his father. Kala didn't know his mother well, but assumed he inherited his easy manner from her or else it was something unique to him in his family. Of the isolationists, he and Akantha spent social time with her far beyond the exigencies of statecraft, and she knew he had reached out to the Neptori envoy as well. In her experience, he had not only been unfailingly polite to Phocion, but showed more warmth than any other Hytori.
There was a touch of the laissez-faire to Hytori religious practices, the anathema of the Re'hyæans notwithstanding. He seemed not to care much for ancient religious schisms.
Then again, this was the family home of the Sol'Eilran rather than the palace, which was more governmental in nature. This allowed for more familiarity and, perhaps, less oversight.
Kala bowed with all due deference. Phocion knew of her divine nature, but the Hytori did not.
"I am honored, Your Royal Highness."
Other than that, she allowed Phocion to speak more at length if he would. The king had taken an interest in her, but she had only been here in order to deliver a gift to Akantha, not at the invitation of the paterfamilias; not until she brought Phocion with her.
The servants melted away. There was no use of Mesmer or other magic on Sorononar's part; he made casual conversation as he led them from foyer through hall to a well-appointed but hardly ostentatious room that seemed half dining room and half sitting room.
The table was set for six. Ailuin sat in an arm chair, reading a book and smoking something that left the faintest herbal scent in the air, quickly forgotten. It took Sorononar's hand on his shoulder and a murmured, "Pater," to bring him back from wherever his mind had gone. Dreaming eyes sharpened after a moment and he took a quick survey of the room.
"Where is Strýchnos?" he asked his son, but then turned his gaze upon his guests. "Be welcome."
