[Aoede]

Morning. Aoede knew it was morning, because the cave told her so. The artificial sun had begun to shine only minutes ago – she had watched it replace the silvery gleam of it’s nocturnal counterpart with unreserved fascination and total surprise. So, this is the throne room of the famed Unseelie court… Naturally, the Sidhe warrior was impressed. She had been expecting a fortress, of course. A castle, a walled-in city, a palace with heavy guard at the very least. The cave had been initially disappointing. But oh, how misguided, how contrary, how utterly wrong first impressions can be! In the increasing light, Aoede paced along the wall of the cavern from the nook where she’d been leaning since her arrival the night before. Part of her thoughts wandered across past events – Istalindir, his dreadful kindness, her fondness for him, his current location; Kraken, his physical greatness, her initial bad impression; Syraelia, the mystery of her, the strange, wavering security…but the greater part was reserved for the present. Tiles of translucent green glowed as if alive, like waking leaves, all across the floor. The walls and roof seemed cut of glorious crystal, almost dazzling with their reflective facets and curves. And the roses…

Aoede whistled faintly, though the sound still echoed in the vast and empty room. What Alin had admired as beautiful and fragile, the huntress regarded as distinctly unnatural and queer. Their massive, wine-hued blooms were far too perfect for normal creation. And as she passed, she got the strange impression that they were turning to look at her, as if the vines themselves were sentries, observing the occupants of the room in their embrace with calculating, eye-less stares. But that was impossible. Roses don’t look at you. Do they? Perhaps her mind was a bit muggy this morning, being that she had, as promised, refrained from sleep; but every indication pointed to her thoughts being utterly clear. She had never felt more alive or aware.

Before her, the jade throne sat unoccupied. Her footsteps bring her near it as if instinctually, though she stops a short distance away: to have cast her own radiance upon it would have seemed somehow treasonous…it was meant for only one sidhe’s light. However, Aoede was not so far that she could not contemplate the rich design embedded in the stone by adept hands. Like the carved walls of Purgatory, these images seemed alive, they were so well-wrought; the roses appeared to stretch their leaves in anticipation of the coming day, the creatures (were they weasels?) almost blinked their shining eyes. No sculpture of this caliber had existed in the world she had come from, the land of men and their comparatively mean creations. She feels an intense longing to run her fingers along the perfect lines, but by a forced act of will manages to turn her face away.

The room was massive, and motionless. Aoede supposed it was still far too early for anyone to be poking about in the throne room, and briefly worries that her own exploration may be deemed suspicious if anyone happened by. Her eyes fix on each of the dozen or so “doorways” gaping along the edges of the chamber, their darkness not yet overwhelmed by the enchanted sun. She appeared to be entirely alone. “Hm,” she half-sighs, eyes narrowed, and removes the bow from her shoulder to lean it against the nearest wall. The quiver soon follows, and, freed of her encumbrances, the lady allows herself a delicious, cat-like stretch of her arms and shoulders. Beneath the somewhat low neckline on the back of her hunting tunic, the tattoo of a lioness’ fierce face and claws peeked out along her spine.

It had been nearly a day since she’d taken the weapons off. This was her own fault, of course…there had likely been no need for her to wear them all through the night, but habit and instinct would not allow her to stow the tools of her craft while she wandered in the woods. What a tragedy it would have been, if the fabled white stag had appeared, and her unarmed! Or a prowling leopard, its pelt worth heaps of gold – or a silver-plumed swan as she had heard mentioned in ancient stories! It wouldn’t have been proper for her to miss an opportunity out of un-preparedness…and stiff shoulders were to be expected from an archer of her skill. These she massaged roughly with sun-bronzed hands, her knuckles practically white from force. It did feel good to remove the bow, now that she was inside and freed from obligation. But she would never admit it aloud.

Feeling more limber and refreshed at last, Aoede tests her voice against the still, subterranean air:

“Anybody home?” come the awkward words, for lack of a better greeting.




[wasn’t really sure what to write…aheh. I hope that set the scene sufficiently.]

This post has been edited by Aoede on Jun 30 2007, 01:41 PM

[Rayne]

So far things had not gone well for Rayne. She had come to the Unseelie Court as she had been instructed and had attempted to approach the Queen, but she had been busy. Thus, she had waited for a while; though it seemed things were not going to end for a while. So she'd left, gone in search of a place to put her few belongings. It had taken her quite some time as she had searched only to find all the good spots had, obviously, been taken. Now she wandered throughout the cave, not really having a direction in mind.

It would have been nice to have been assigned to the Seelie Court, she thinks to herself. As she'd heard, they had actual animals that followed them around instead of tattoos of their likeness. At least then she would have someone to talk to; or at least to hold and be comforted by. She felt alone, and though she had known this is what it would always be like, she did wish for some kind of company.

As she entered another section of the great cave she let out a bit of a sigh. She wasn't depressed, exactly, but it seemed that this day had not gone anywhere near according to plan. Well, honestly she hadn't had a plan. But she would have liked for the day to have gone somewhat better. Maybe tomorrow it would. Her steps were soft and silent and she kept her head down, staring at the ground before her.

Suddenly there was a noise behind her and she stopped dead, looking up and turning her head. Silence. Had that been her imagination? She shook her head. Probably. It was always running away with her. The sound of a voice brought her from her thoughts again. Home? Was this home? It seemed to be. Rayne would cautiously step forward, following where she thought the voice had come from.

It wasn't too long before she was staring at the one who had made the call. At least, she was fairly certain it had been this other that had called. Sudden shyness seemed to sweep over her as she stood there, not really knowing how to introduce herself. So, she would remain within the shadows for a time, simply watching. This is rude. She thinks to herself. After all, she had wanted to introduce herself and make her presence known. Now someone was asking. Not exactly about her, but still. The call had been for 'anyone' and Rayne was someone.

Therefore, she would slowly move from the shadows and would make her presence known by clearing her throat; though still barely making a noise. She would wait for the other to acknowledge her presence, her hands together, fingers intertwined, and out in front of her body as she stood almost nervously once more.

"Forgive my intrusion. But I heard your...your call and wished to introduce myself. I am Rayne."

At that, she would give a polite half bow and would cast her eyes downward. Standing straight once more, she would finally lift her eyes; though it was clear she would most likely not be keeping up eye contact for long. She was a submissive creature by nature, flighty like her mantel and adverse to conflict unless it was absolutely unavoidable. She did try to be social; oh the many days she had spent learning to communicate again! It was hard, though and if anyone so dared to attempt a full conversation with her they usually found themselves sorely disappointed; even if she had initiated such conversation, for she always seemed to cut it short.

Either way, she now stood almost nervously awaiting the response she would get from the stranger standing before her; hoping that at least she would not be driven from this part of the cave. Well, she had yet to be driven from any part of the cave, but she knew it was coming. It always did.

[Aoede]

Aoede was no fool, nor was she so unaware of her surroundings that she could not feel the nameless eyes upon her, could not sense the other woman’s presence like a distant shadow. She halts when she becomes aware of the other fae, stands finely tuned as a taught bow-string with her hands hanging, loose and ready at her sides. The anticipation is not exactly unpleasant, though Aoede was certainly in no mood for a fight – the pose is natural to her, befitting a faerie of her profession and kith. She feels her feet sink and root to the floor while her body becomes light, a coiled spring with the bottom tied down. Instinct. She is a crouching lioness, pretending to be asleep while her mind plays over the sound and smell of prey.

Shuffling feet and a cleared throat shatter the posture, and when Aoede glances over her shoulder to finally lay her gaze upon her fellow Unseelie citizen, she feels almost silly for having taken it up at all.

Aoede nods to her, and as if on cue the bashful words pour forth – in the meantime, the sidhe is able to scrutinize the creature. If ever there were two women diametrically opposed, these were: Aoede the lioness and Rayne the little deer. The huntress would never have adopted so submissive a stance before a stranger, regardless of their rank. Perhaps that was a flaw on her part; she was too proud, too strong to admit of the possibility one could find her inferior. Or maybe neither of them were wrong. Aoede, of course, took the third opinion: that Rayne should stand up straighter, let her hands fall and speak with some goddamn confidence. It was not befitting of a faerie, she believed, to carry herself so low. Still (for Aoede could have a good heart, when she was so moved) there is a flash of pity that sways the soldier’s soul, and rather than criticizing the nimbus loudly in the fashion of a higher-ranking commander she softens, even smiles a little. The smile is far from gentle, of course, but it is at least non-threatening.

“It was not a summons so much as a question, but I thank you for answering it. It is…” she pauses, regards the bow and the sudden eye-contact. Her eyes narrow slightly, but she returns the gesture, her eyes remaining trained on Rayne and her radiating shyness. “a pleasure to meet you, Rayne. I am Aoede Lucien, seeker to the Unseelie.”

It seemed best not to approach, and so she limits her steps toward the other female to a few long strides, her hand sweeping to her left, indicating the chamber’s vast emptiness. “You’ve no need to hide in the shadows so, lady. Your right to this place is as great as mine.” As a lion and a gazelle must share the same meadow, her predatory side remarks, but the kinder part chastises it for its eternal, damning hunger. A faerie would certainly not consume another faerie, regardless of their form. It would be quite unnatural, despite the obvious differences in nature between the two present. But again, the lady and her lion are in conflict, for instinct and reason are often greatly opposed.

“Tell me,” she begins anew, partly to distract herself from the awkward battle of minds, “have you encountered the Queen. Arianna? I have been seeking her out…” As if reminded of her purpose, her eyes leave the young ravini and travel the perimeter of the room once more, just in case some soul within the caverns had stirred since their conversation began.

[Pachamama]

One would not assume that a crocodile could sneak. At sixteen feet in length, about three feet in height, and weighting almost a ton, one would particularly not assume that this one could. But sneak she did, as she prowled almost noiselessly across the jade-tiled floor, her deep red eyes shining in the early dawn, her tail making the faintest rustling sound as is dragged along behind her. The creature paused when it reached the center of the room, observing the lonely throne before it and the two faerie standing some ways beyond that, and then, with a hiss, breathed a long breath upon the lifeless stone. The thing shivered, as if awakened, and the images of the ferrets sank back into nothing.

If a caiman could seem pleased, this one did. She gazed at the now blank sides of the jade seat, and though she dwarfed it with her massive bulk as she circled round, there was an air of conquest about her…of victory. Then, with her eyes trained on Aoede and Rayne, who were now exchanging words and still oblivious to her hulking presence, she began to change.

The changes were simultaneous. She was shrinking and yet growing taller, her hide began to ripple and thin and grow darker in some places, lighter in others. Only her eyes remained virtually unchanged as they assumed a new face over six feet off the ground, though a few drops of silver now boiled in them, like rubies pierced with steel. The scaly flanks of the black caiman had given way to lustrous pewter flesh veiled in midnight-black silk, which still retained the reptile’s gorgeous patterning in faint traces of silver, red and blue. Fingerless gloves stopped at finely-hewn platinum armbands some ten inches below her shoulders – a low-slung skirt whispered across her thighs, suspended by an ornate, diamond and garnet-encrusted belt. Concealing her breasts was…well. It could not quite be called a blouse. Less than a bustier and yet more modest than a bra, it glittered with those same aforementioned jewels, sewn and embedded upon the the white-metal boning and otherworldly fabric. Her red and black hair was twisted back in myriad braids, coiled and looped against the back of her crown and threaded with stones like starlight. A few woven strands draped down her neck and rested, finally, at her mid-back. Her lips were wine-red, her cheeks flushed with vitality, her eyes the unblinking crocodile’s. Her tattooed feet were bare. On her hip and lower back, it’s tail wrapping around her hidden thigh, the image of the black caiman could still be seen on the metallic skin of the Sidhe, it’s hungry mouth gaping across her spine. The woman was simultaneously beautiful and terrifying, graceful as a swan and deadly as a viper. Her face was smiling, but it was not a smile that was meant to ease its viewers.

It seemed the older-looking fae had spotted her at last, as her final words spilled out, and Pachamama suppresses a sadist’s laugh that threatens to defy her composure. She lowers herself easily onto the carved throne – for she had been standing directly before it while her transformation took place – and curls her thin fingers over the lipped edges. There, a picture very like the one upon her own skin bloomed in answer, and the jade of the caimans turned dark and alive.

“Then you will be seeking in vain,” she murmurs, but it is now the only sound in the room, “for Arianna has gone from Alanor.” Aoede stared at her, dumbfounded. Pascha could feel her suspicion, but she does not yet react; all would be tried and proven, in time. “If you are looking for your Queen, then it is at the hem of my gown that you should kneel in supplication. Your ice princess has fled to warmer climes, and requested that I take up her crown until she returns for it. But I doubt she will return…” her voice barely rises above a casual, disinterested whisper as her mouth curls into a wicked grin. She had not been meeting the curious gazes as she delivered her advice; but at these last words her stare snaps up and holds Rayne and Aoede, as if physically. The meaning of her doubt is unclear, but her warning is obvious: bow to me, or I shall make you.

“You. Come closer. I want to have a better look at you.” These, to Rayne. “And both your names, your kiths and your magic,” her eyes darkened, “if you please.”

[Rayne]

Such strange happenings amongst the Unseelie. It was enough to unsettle even the most steadfast. First the Queen makes such a strong showing of her powers and proves herself worthy of the throne. Then she vanishes. What is to be said of the seat of power to the Darkling Throng when the Queen herself vanishes before things even begin.

Rayne knew nothing of the workings of the upper positions of the courts. Truth be told she had never been part of a court before. It was an alien system to her. And when one such as Aoede gives such a pitying glance it seems to bolster Rayne ever so slightly. After all, pity meant the dropping of a shield; or at least part of it anyhow. But she has no ill will; no evil plan to earn the trust of such a powerful being and beget her downfall. No. Rayne would never be such a creature.

Perhaps in her past she was different. Maybe the complete opposite of what she is now. But she has no memories of a life before she found herself wandering through the woods.

Again her own thoughts are pulled back to the present as Aoede begins to speak once more. Her right to this place. What right had she? A lost, pathetic wanderer with no place to call home before this. She came to the mounds as a homeless being begging for shelter and was granted the chance to try anew in this place called the Unseelie Court.

Then there was more speech. Something about the Queen. Had she seen her? Not since that day. Rayne opens her mouth to answer, but another steals her window. Her sudden presence and the changes that take place force the faerie's attention away from the first and to the second. And there she stands, so unlike any Rayne had ever seen before. There is an aura of confidence so radiant about her that it seeps from her as though there is no more room. Rayne could never hope to achieve such a thing. Perhaps that is why she was always so low on the totem pole. No one cared for Rayne; the quiet little mouse that stayed out of the way. Were she of a predatory nature she might have taken advantage of this image. But she was not two-faced. What you saw is what you got with her.

Speech flows forth from the new sidhe and Rayne's eyes are diverted to hers. There is the slightest bit of panic in her own as the other speaks to her. Should she be so fortunate as to have this new Queen speak directly to her? Perhaps not. But as it is, it seems that is all this Sidhe wished for. To know her name and what she had been given when she had come to the Mounds. That was easy enough. Stepping forward Rayne again bows as she had done with Aoede, her head down and her eyes staring at the ground beneath her feet. Lifting herself to a straight standing posture, she even manages to lift her gaze before speaking.

"I am Rayne of the Ravini kith, Mistress of Facade Illusion."

She had stepped closer as per the Sidhe's request, but dared step no further for fear of being within whatever striking distance this being required so as to strike her down. Not that it would happen, but the irrational fears swimming within the Nimbus' mind were many; and constant.

[Aoede]

It seemed this day was to be full of surprises.

There is no time for Rayne to respond to Aoede’s questions, but that is not to say they went unanswered. Her eyes were diverted before she had even finished the words, and here they now lay, boring into the sterling witch with a sense of…what? Dread, awe, loathing, adoration? Pick one, or pick all. There is no question that Aoede immediately hates this woman all in black. But it also goes without saying that she will serve her loyally…

Like a beaten dog.

Still, she does not leap to the proffered hem just yet, but takes a step forward in the manner of her acquaintance and offers her own sweeping bow. Her eyes, however, never quite reach the floor. They remain trained on the Queen, tight-rope walking over defiance, and just as unblinking as Pascha’s scaly altar ego. She straightens, glances at Rayne, looks back. It was unnecessary for the unkind ruler to torture the flighty nymph. The nimbus appeared to offer her fear without request, much less force, and in the opinion of our noble huntress to use such base means was lacking in dignity. Still, the dread, awe, and adoration outweighed her loathing three-to-one, and Aoede holds her tongue on the subject.

“I am Aoede Lucien, Rapaciou, princess of Restoration and wielder of façade illusion. ”

The Sidhe wonders at the question. What on earth could the darkling Queen want with her subjects’ gifts? Perhaps it was a thing to admire in her, the prompt desire to know something of her citizens, to catalogue the information for some later purpose…but it makes Aoede nervous. She preferred not to broadcast her magical abilities. Her annoyance at being required to offer this information about herself without recompense is enough to unchain her carefully checked tongue, and in a flash her reputation for saying inappropriate things at inappropriate times resurfaces in force:

“What about you?”

Aoede immediately regretted speaking. She was sure she wanted to know, of course…and sure she didn’t want to know at all. If the previous queen had been master of love and fear, what awful things could this lady beckon out of the night? It is only better to know there is a tiger in the woods if it is not looming over your fire and salivating at the thought of your mangled flesh. But she does not take the question back, proud fool. With a clenched jaw and idle hands she awaits the inevitable backlash, cradling some ridiculous hope that Restoration would save her from potential destruction, if indeed that was what the ruthless Queen had in store.

[omg so bad. I HATE having threads with myself ><]

[Pachamama]

Fear. Little did Rayne know that Fear was exactly the correct response to have here, in this court, before this particular Queen. Her lack of boldness is precisely the thing to guarantee she will not be smote by the cruel tongue, the wretched sword, the dual Hands. Unfortunately for this catch twenty-two, the Sidhe’s goodwill was almost as frightening as her wrath, and as the young woman comes to a halt she is already standing, approaching, there. Pascha had an uncanny ability to move quickly without appearing in the least bit rushed, and now, as she stands directly in front of the shy Ravini, it is as if she had been standing there all along. She is, undeniably, uncomfortably close…but she either has no sense of courtesy or else is numb to the idea of personal space, for the intimacy of her stance seems perfectly natural to the crocodilian Queen. She smiles, looking down at her from her superior height, with an expression that was as close to benevolence as she was capable of.

“That’s a good girl,” she coos, debatably mocking. “Your kith is terrible unsurprising, and fairly useless to me, but I am pleased by your obedience. If you continue like this, you will have no cause to fear my ill-favor.” She places one hand gently under Rayne’s chin, lifts it so that she might gaze into the shy face. Her nails were lacquered black. “My, aren’t you pretty? I could almost mistake you for a pure faerie. But your blood is not of your choosing or your power, and we are Unseelie, are we not? All are welcome.” The Queen releases her subject, eyes falling on the red-haired huntress idly, lashes hanging on heavy lids. “Let the Seelie fret over their exclusivity, while they have their leisure.”

The Queen had ignored Aoede until now, but her rudeness could not go forever unrequited. She disengages from her nimbus friend, takes a few lazy, prowling strides toward the other Sidhe, lowers her face almost menacingly. If she had been uncomfortably close to Rayne, to Aoede she was practically oppressive – near enough to examine every changing color in the peridot eyes. “That is none of your business, but if you keep asking questions I’ll be happy to show you,” she hisses, “and you should be counting your blessings, that I am in such a lovely mood this morning.” Then, surprisingly, she leaves the cheeky fae; begins to pace back to the beckoning throne, her silk skirt rustling against her feet and the floor.

“I am called Pachamama, little pet,” she says over her shoulder, “by those humans that once worshipped me in the other world. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.” Her laugh is poisonous, eerie, cruel. It reverberates uncannily throughout the chamber, as if summoned from the very walls and floor. She sits upon her chair once more, practically reclining, and supports herself with one arm. “They thought I caused their earth-quakes. It was very amusing. Of course, you are too young to have lived in the time when Sidhe were thought Gods, aren’t you?” Her smile is as wicked as her laugh, and it seemed in this moment that Pascha was anything but impressed by the lady hunter. Her attention shifts once more to Rayne, and with it her countenance softens slightly. “You seem quite young as well, though I always find it hard to tell. Have you been here long?”

[Rayne]

Silence. It was the only thing that followed Rayne's statement of who she was. She dared not speak again unless asked another question. And yet the sidhe near her took a decidedly different approach. It was strange to think there could be two so very different people within the same room. And yet here they were, Aoede and Rayne.

As Pascha comes so very near her, Rayne stiffens slightly but otherwise does not move. Then there is a force; a pushing from her chin, forcing her gaze to lift and the Queen is speaking once more. Well if her kith was useless information why had she bothered to ask? It is a question that buzzes through Rayne's mind for only the most miniscule moment before it is gone; never to be thought again.

More speech. Pretty? Rayne had never thought of herself as such. Perhaps because no one had ever mentioned it before. No one could ever mistake her as a sidhe. That was impossible. It was a cruel phrase and it got Rayne's mind to thinking. Perhaps Pascha knew this; perhaps the statement was in fact innocent enough in nature - or as close to innocent as this sidhe could get. But it would toy with Rayne's mind for a while.

As she is left in favor of the other sidhe, Rayne remains perfectly still. Her eyes reveal the emotions dancing through her, but her face is blank. There is fear in her eyes, but also a sense of safety; strange as that may be. For her fear she had been - for lack of a better word - rewarded. Was that to be the way of things? Grovel at the feet of the Queen and you shall have no need to fear her. But fear is what keeps her happy. A strange cycle that seemed to contradict itself while making perfect sense.

Her name echoes in Rayne's mind as she searches for a memory; one that will never come to her. She had not heard the Queen's name before, but dared not say such a thing aloud. It might offend her. Once more the attention is directed to herself and Rayne stiffens slightly. Young. As far as she knew she was quite young. Her memory only went back 100 years. But she was older. Not nearly as old as Pascha, but older than she knew. After an acceptable period of silence that had followed Pascha's question, Rayne would speak once more.

"I have spent only one night in this court." But the better part of a century looking for it.

This thought is not said aloud for the Queen might think her stupid. A century to find a court? Well, not exactly. She'd been told, in her wanderings, of a place called Alanor and had spent her time searching for it. Once found, it had only taken as long as it took her feet to traverse the distance from, the Mounds to the Court. Again, once the last word left her lips the nimbus would fall silent; waiting for whatever came next. She was not really one to initiate conversation; especially not with the Queen.




((Aww, I know what you mean. It seems we are the only ones posting right now...wonder where everyone went. On that note; mind if I bring Ashton into this? He's dying to show off his "charm" haha))

[Pachamama]

Yes, why had the budding regent asked such a mundane question? The knowledge of glamour magic and hands of power was a somewhat obvious requisite, not to mention names…but kith? Oh! “But kith” could mean so much more! Kith influenced persona, lent its own gifts to the faerie who possessed it, and individual mantles could color every decision a fae made. Could her subjects deliver poison with the most unassuming of love-bites? Could they fly through the air? Could they summon throngs of spiders? And in the form of their bonded, could they fight?

Could they fight…Yes, the Unseelie Queen had plans, alright. It never took her long to hatch them; indeed, many had been nurtured into full maturity long ago, and had lain dormant, waiting for the opportunity to be put to action. Pascha wanted to know the kiths and mantles of each of her subjects, that she might divine which ones would be useful soldiers, envoys, spies. She had assumed the little damsel would be ravini – one of the flighty ones, without natural weapons or natural bulk to aid it, a survivor by flight – but it was always better to ask than to assume. Perhaps she had been a bird? Birds were terribly useful. But Rayne’s unfortunate kith is not enough to make Pascha dismiss her entirely; the woman was a master strategist, and knew that among the first steps a great conqueror must take was the cataloguing of every potential asset. Rayne, though she was not a bear or a snake, a caribou or a falcon, could yet prove indispensable. Who knew? And so her reaction was to reward the immediacy of her response, her loyalty without any request for proof. Oh yes, the Sidhe witch had heard about the demands made upon her lovely cousin, Arianna. Pascha would never have honored such a vain, presumptuous appeal with Mangled Hearts. If it had been her in the situation, with the two hands of the ice queen at her disposal, she would have paraded a circus of nightmares before the poor fools’ eyes, rather than allow them the privilege of her touch. But Pachamama and Arianna were two very different women, and would be very different Queens.

As for her “compliment”…it had been innocent enough. The nimbus was indeed pretty, despite the obvious exaggeration, and Pascha had merely desired to reward Rayne with more than simple-minded approval as a way of encouragement. Faeries were very aesthetic, after all; it was customary to remind an attractive one that they were so, particularly if you were assuming something that might resemble gentility. And though the comment now tortured Rayne, unbeknownst to her distracted Mistress, it had had the proper affect: a sense of placement, belonging, and safety. It may not have seemed so, but Pascha wanted her subjects to feel safe in the court. It was safety with a price, of course – unyielding loyalty and submission were certainly necessary in return – but the Queen wanted her throng to see her power both for their admiration and their trust that she was capable of defending the Unseelie. It didn’t matter how kind a general was if he could not command, and how much greater was a Monarch than her war marshal?

But, this is all a digression from the matter at hand.

“One night only? Oh dear! You’ve hardly had any time to settle, and here you are, faced with new introductions and new leadership at once. That is a shame.” The words sound remarkably sincere, and her look is pitying. “Have you found a good place to keep your bed and possessions? And you…” her look shifts to Aoede, suddenly harder, calculating. “Arianna failed to mention you to me. Are you yet so new that you managed to miss her, or have you misplaced your true court, hmm?” The accusation is a test, of course. Pachamama had no suspicions that Aoede had come from the Seelie – the tattoo which was visible on her upper back had not escaped the Queen’s attention. The Lioness could be useful to her, very useful, but only if it were proven not to be a menace.

Then, it would make a fine decoration for her floor.

[yeah I am going to hold off on Aoede for a few posts to get in the groove and not feel too schizo. But feel free to bring in whomever you please.]

[Kraken]

It was unlike him. Extremely out of character you could say, even reckless by his standards. But even the silent black beast could not wait idly by while the Fates conspired; whisking away one brand of sidhe magic and replacing it with another. Kraken was alarmed you could say, for moments ago he had settled down into a somewhat comfortable bed only to be awakened by the stirring of something unmistakable. The caverns had shook with what only could be magic. Powerful magic…

So he had risen, quickly slipped on pants and charged headlong into the throne room with his bastard sword in hand. The sun had begun to rise, so he had had a decent night of sleep, if a battle was at hand then indeed his enemies would have wished they attacked a few hours earlier. For a well rested Kraken was a relentless warrior and if foes truly did threaten his court this morning then that warrior would show himself.

Kraken’s long strides brought him to the throne room in no time. Quickly he searched for his Queen and when she was no where to be found the idea of a battle beginning became realer. He crouched into a position that would allow for maximum defense but as he did so his eyes fell upon Aoede, a woman whom he had met before and had spoken openly of pledging her allegiance to the Queen of Love and Fear. Those dark oculars then drifted to the other two women, one who was obviously sidhe. He watched her, slightly taken back by her radiance and the beauty that only came with the thickest of bloods. He swallowed hard but still maintained his stone cold gaze. <b>”Where is my Queen?”</b> He asked with a voice that solid and reflected his strength. But truly all the while feeling insecure for in his back pocket he could feel his gentlemen’s dagger but he had not grabbed his spine sword and without that weapon he felt naked.

This post has been edited by Kraken on Aug 16 2007, 12:45 PM

[Aoede]

Aoede was not accustomed to being called a “pet”. Of course, she was also unaccustomed to faerie of far greater power and age. Such relics of the Sidhe golden age were extraordinarily rare, and Pachamama seemed quite disinclined to let her new subjects forget it. The huntress was herself, as the Queen observed, far too young to have experienced the kind of adulation Pascha had enjoyed: where Pascha had come to Alanor from a modern age, having lived since the ancient days, Aoede stepped into this other world from a time nearly a thousand years prior, having lived only a few hundred years total. In fact, it was very likely that Rayne surpassed the red-haired Sidhe in birthdays – but Aoede would never have come to that conclusion on her own. As one who associated age with experience and therefore strength, she would have sooner deigned the flighty nymph a teenager than a fae with over a hundred years more life in her memory. She was certainly more inclined to protect Rayne than ask her for stories of the old days, at the very least. And as the Queen’s new words flow over them, practically soggy with ulterior motives, Aoede feels the strangest inclination to pick up her bow and knock an arrow straight through her—

“And you…”

The test does not go unnoticed, and Aoede could have guessed from Pachamama’s stare that she was weighing the aesthetic appeal of her pelt, if she had been interested in knowing. Aoede can’t decide whether or not she is offended by the accusation, and that is perhaps to her benefit, as her lack of knowledge causes her to refrain from a burst of anger in the direction of her hot-blooded Queen. “I have been here only long enough to hear rumors of Arianna’s power, and discover that she has been replaced. And though I clearly know little of this court, the Seelie are yet more mysterious.” The answer seemed simple enough. Aoede wonders briefly if it is the one Pascha is looking for. Then…

Enter: Kraken.

Aoede’s eyes widened in surprise as she regarded him: one certainly could not find fault in his vigilance, even if his tact was on holiday. And, though it is an obvious question, the huntress finds the first words out of his mouth admirably, though almost recklessly bold. Where is the Queen?

She thought she knew exactly what the Queen would say.

[Pachamama]

Pascha was perhaps just as surprised as Aoede by Kraken’s dramatic entrance. Her attention turns to him, wide garnet eyes crowned by a pair of bemusedly arched brows, lips curled into a genuinely delighted grin. Her teeth were strikingly white against the darkness of her other features as she replied in a smooth, lilting, honey-sweet voice:

“You’re looking at her.”

Then she laughed again, as if her response had been particularly clever, frank though it was. She brought a hand to her chest to fondle a single cabochon gem dangling from a chain about her neck, and settled her scrutinizing stare on his face after wandering over the rest of him, with particular care given to the bastard sword in his hand. It was obvious what his intentions were – but, far from Aoede’s ideas about boldness and lack of manners, Pascha can think only
Now, that’s more like it.

“You needn’t brandish your steel in your own home at this hour. Arianna has left you. She is alive and well, and by her own choice she is gone. Out of her great fondness for you she has deigned it fit to leave another shepherd to tend that flock which once belonged to her. I bear a scepter, not a sword. Now, it is my turn to ask questions. Your name will be sufficient to begin with, although from Arianna’s few descriptions, I imagine I could guess…”

Pascha smiled easily at him, requesting nothing, demanding everything.

[yeah…that’s all I have energy for right now ><]

This post has been edited by Pachamama on Aug 13 2007, 10:59 AM

[Astyana]

It was strange, the apathetic mood which found her as she entered the room. Normally Astyana was not one for crowds. At all. In the least. However, these particularily interesting circumstances left her with no other choice, really. Her presence would be requested at some point, if not simply for the sake of getting a fair population count, so she might as well make with the introductions. If she could manage not to verbally trip over herself and strangle herself with embarassment, then all the better. She had been aware for only about an hour that there was new royalty in the area, and only because she'd watched the first two enter, hesitated, listened in, and decided to be bold at last.

She didn't seem quite so bad as Astyana had been expecting. Not that the last queen had been cruel or wicked in any particular way, but from the tales she'd heard coming to this place she had imagined a much darker, sadistic set to the court. It was both pleasing and concerning, she was a master of not showing her true face, who was to say such a talent was unique? This queen, and the last, and whoever had come and would in the future, could easily be pure evil wrapped in quite a misleading package, tied together with a poisonously sweet smile. So for this reason and many others, Astyana couldn't help but display a wariness in her actions and expression as she took those slow steps forward.

Nothing had been asked of her yet, but would eagerness be rewarded or punished? So far it seemed the worst that could happen was a bit of light teasing, mocking, chiding, the usual for such superior beings, or those who deemed themselves as such. Her attention was elsewhere at the moment, which was a small blessing as it allowed her to assess yet another short exchange in an attempt to predict the reactions of this particular saucy breed of queen. Simplicity would be her aim here, while testing the waters it was best to let the others have the spotlight. However, rudeness simply wouldn't do, and this was obvious, so with as much grace as she could muster, she allowed words to finally find their way through her lips.

"Greetings, Queen Pachamama." And that would do, for now. Whether questions would come or not, she was unsure, but the delicate curtsey she gave should have been polite enough to win her one 'get out of jail free' card, so to say. It was more than anyone else had offered in the way of respect at this point, perhaps they didn't worship royalty here the same way as they did in the outside world. Or perhaps everyone else was just as nervous about a new queen suddenly popping up who used to be worshipped as a goddess by humans... that would certainly make sense.

[If this doesn't make sense at any point, slap me XD but I figure, I'm having a good day so I might as well try some writing <3]

This post has been edited by Astyana on Aug 13 2007, 05:32 PM

[Xiu An]

He was getting comfortable in his self-isolation. For the most part, Xiu An had managed to keep to himself in the Unseelie Court. He was necessarily a loner; it was more…he preferred the comforts of solitude than the tedious nature of continually introducing and keeping with others. It was, perhaps, due to his old age. Or habit. He had seen generations of mortals he called friends die and watched as their graves had been worn to mere nothingness. How long will they last, he would think, how long with the person in front of me stay there?

That or he was plain apathetic. It was mostly that. He just didn’t care.

But the appearance of their “new” Queen was enough to flush him out of his hiding. He had been walking in what he believed to be a secluded pathway in the maze-like caverns of the Unseelie. What he forgot was that the path lead him to the throne room. He had watched the events played out where he had hidden in the shadows, apparently undetected. And, when the time was ready, the actor must enter the stage. With a flourish, that is. For that was entertainment.

“So a new faerie enters and calls herself Queen.” He grinned crookedly. “Queen Pachamama of the Unseelie Court.”

His tone was odd; it seemed polite but there existed a playfully mocking undertone. As if he found the situation humorous. He walked calmly forward until he stood face-to-face with the sidhe. His grin widened as he pushed his traveler’s cape to his shoulders and bowed dramatically. “Let me be the first to welcome you to your new land. I hope your stay shall be most enjoyable.”

He looked up with apathetic eyes. The grin fell from his face and was replaced with an countenance harder than stone. “I am Garlanger Xiu An of the Calcinaze kith.”

[Syraelia]

She had followed the garlanger in secret from when they'd met in the cave, or she had presumed he wasn't aware of her presence as he hadn't reacted once through the entire walk. His path had been worth the travel, for now she could at least see what ruler she was expected to bow down to in these lands. Not that she ever had before, but she was off her footing here. These were no longer rules that she understood, she didn't know if she could break them and survive. And survival was key, above all else. She held back from the crowd, robes held tight to her, making her one with the darkness around her.

Unblinking eyes of a convincing ebony hue (though they were really dark brown) surveyed each fey in turn, having missed most of the interaction so far she could only wonder who had caused what of this queen's reactions. Everyone seemed to be in a pleasant enough mood so far. The one she had followed stepped forward, playing the jester as she had witnessed once before. He was terribly rude, but tactfully so, if such things could exist together. She was up in the air as to whether or not the queen would be offended by such carefully masked mockery, or whether she would let it slide so as not to appear oversensitive.

Curious games these others played, ones she had not witnessed before. Then again, her knowledge of the human race was very limited to anything involving death. How to kill, how to know someone was worth killing, how to know someone wanted to kill you, how to avoid being killed, how to make the kill meaningful and to relay a message, how to never be caught as the one who killed. Of course, there were many other little details associated with such knowledge, sub-knowledge of the knowledge in a way. She mentally shook herself out of the little reverie quickly enough to catch the end of Xiu An's little... scene.

Now, the next part would be interesting. As for her? If she could be spotted, this queen would be worth speaking to, perhaps. Until then, she had little desire to play puppet on that stage.