Logs

Logs Home

2001 December 03

2002 January 30

2002 February 02

2002 February 12

2002 July 21

2002 August 18

2002 September 01

2002 September 15

2002 September 29

2002 October 27

2002 December 08

2003 January 05

2003 January 19

2003 February 02

2003 February 15

2003 February 16

2003 March 30

2003 April 06

2003 April 13

2003 April 20

2003 June 01

2003 June 15

2003 June 29

2003 September 07

2003 September 14

2003 September 28

2003 October 05

2003 October 12

2003 October 19

2003 October 26

2003 November 02

2003 November 09

2003 November 16

2003 November 23

2003 November 30

2003 December 07

2003 December 11

2003 December 14

2003 December 21

2003 December 28

2004 January 11

2004 January 18

2004 January 25

2004 February 01

2004 February 08

2004 February 15

2004 February 22

2004 February 29

2004 March 07

2004 March 14

2004 March 21

2004 March 28

2004 April 04

2004 April 11

2004 April 18

2004 April 25

2004 May 02

2004 May 02

2004 May 16

2004 May 23

2004 May 30

2004 June 06

2004 June 13

2004 July 11

2004 July 18

2004 July 25

2004 August 08

2004 August 15

2004 August 22

2004 August 29

2004 September 12

2004 September 19

2004 September 26

2004 October 03

2004 October 17

2004 October 24

2004 November 07

2004 November 07

2004 November 14

2004 November 28

2004 December 05

2004 December 12

2004 December 19

2004 December 26

2005 January 02

2005 January 23

2005 January 30

2005 February 06

2005 February 13

2005 February 20

2005 February 21

Idlewild

Idlewild Home

Dramatis Personae

Game Logs

Maps

Player Information

Realms

Realms Home

Dishonored

Goblin Town

Neverneverwhere

The Whole of the Law

Waking Dreams

When The Bough Breaks


One-Shot

Retired

Birthright

Burning Man

Cosmic Guardians

DNAnimals/Tamashii

Fukusei Crystals

Heartwood

Hunter

Idlewild

Indigo

Inizii

Morning Rain

NachtMusik

Oloth

Paradon

Scarred Lands

Shattered Stars

Starfall

Weston


Style Test

Reality Fault

Home

Player

Character

Referee

Programmer

Administrator

Operations


Search RealityFault:

General Info

Glossary

Realms

Events

Credits

Help Files

Help Files (old)


Reality Fault

Realms: Idlewild Logs

December 21

Sun Dec 21 2003

The night after the party arrives in Sindinbrigh', the city in the lap of the Summer Court, is mostly uneventful. At one point Steven thinks he hears someone crying out and not in happy tones, but when he opens the door to investigate he is sharing the hall only with Clairchiare and Seodil, who have both poked their heads out of Seodil's half-open doorway inquisitively. The rest of the night is quiet and morning brings Steven room service with breakfast pastries and armfuls of clothes, carried by the tailor Orthallino's giggling bevy of redheaded daughters. Steven's expected attire turns out to be not made of as much whole cloth as he might want-- heavily embroidered cutouts in an abstract pattern run up the sides of his tight pants, russet raw silk edged with gold thread and red tigereye, and the vest matching it in heavy satin would not be enough for modesty if he were female. A deep brown cape and matching suede knee boots trimmed with polished golden tigereye beads completes the ensemble, as the daughters add a few finishing touches, chattering to each other and giggling. Steven ends up with gold beads and more tigereye wound into each dreadlock, and two thick gold-washed bronze armbands. The mirror reveals him to be barbarically splendid, and quite exotic.

Steven tries not to stare at what it is that's looking back at him in the mirror. This is... well, wow. Not at all what he expected. That's more skin than he's ever shown. He can't deny the quality of work, though, and he's very impressed with the whole ensemble. He very politely and gratefully thanks the daughters for what they've done, complimenting them on their touches. I don't think I've ever worn anythign like this, he thinks. Does this mean we shouldn't be wearing the skins, then? he wonders, and makes a mental note to ask Seodil or Soleil about that.

Clairchiare knocks politely on Steven's half-open door as the girls finish bustling, and says "I hope you do not mind, but I have taken the liberty of arranging for our transport to Summer early in light of the need to celebrate my discovery of a brother. The rest of your clothes will be sent after us. After you have eaten, please join us downstairs and we will depart as soon as all are ready." He smiles and heads down the hall, presumably to inform the others.

Steven blinks after Clairchiare. Heck of a celebration. I'm glad you seem happy about it, though. Oh, gods, that means Seodil's mom might be there. he grimaces a bit. Of all the times for a family reunion.... He heads outside, once again wonderign about the cry in the middle of the night and wondering if he should ask Aiden about that.

Aiden walks over to the door and opens it, peering out at Clairchiare. He listens patiently while Clairchiare talks then nods. "I don't suppose it would be possible for you to delay slightly? The Prince's clothes have not yet arrived."

Clairchiare smiles. "I will investigate that immediately and have them sent up, if they are ready. One outfit will be sufficient to travel and arrive in, after all, as the rest of all our finery will follow us." He pauses, and says politely "Should they be sent to this room?"

Aiden nods, "Thank you, Clairchiare. I appreciate your investigation." He glances back into the room, then turns back and nods again. "Please."

The pink-haired elf gives Aiden a polite bow, murmuring "Of course," and sweeps off in a swirl of velvet coattails.

Aiden shuts the door softly and turns to Soleil. "Did you catch all of that?"

Sol nods. Quietly, he says "We are leaving today so that Clairchiare can throw Seodil a party... if I am not mistaken."

Aiden nods, "That's what I caught." He smiles. "Hopefully your clothing will be up in a few moments. I look forward to seeing you in it."

After Clairchiare has left, Steven considers for a moment, then goes down the hall to knock politely on Sol's and Aiden's door.

Aiden stands up and goes back over to the door. He opens it up a crack, then opens it the rest of the way, "C'mon in, Steven. You ready?"

Aiden's wearing clothing that's not completely unlike Steven's, except in shades of dark browns and warm ambers. His pants have the cutouts on the sides that Steven's do, but his are in tree-branch shapes. His boots go to the knee and his shirt is slightly opaque, also with cutouts. Bracelets in silver, washed with gold, catch the sleeves. His hair has been done, too. The front of his head is wreathed with tiny braids, shot though with strands of beads. The pattern continues to just behind his ears, where the rest is left loose.

Steven nods. "Mm-hm. All set. I hope this doesn't become a mess when we get to court, their mother might be there." He nods to Aiden. "You look good. It's a good look for you I heard you said that Sol's clothes weren't ready yet?"

Aiden gives Steven a tight smile. "Thanks. Same to you, really. It suits you well." He nods, "Some sizing difficulties, I gather. Clairchiare just went to check in on it." He grimaces. "Yeah, I'm a bit worried 'bout that, meself. Guess we just hope for the best."

Sol says meekly, stepping into sight, "They measured me as a girl." Soleil is clearly no longer a girl, nor does he appear to have any clothes handy.

Steven blinks. Twice. "Uh... right, gotcha. I'm... glad to see you back to normal! Ahh...." He looks around abruptly, then focusses on Aiden. pointing out the door. "I'll... just go outside. Uhm.. anyone, I should, uh, let know about... the change...?"

Aiden frowns, "If I'd been thinking right, I would've asked them to wait until we got ye fixed up." There's something in his voice that Steven has probably never heard before. Turns out Aiden has an accent.

Steven stops short a bit, peering at Aiden for a long moment, trying to place that accent.

Soleil bows his head and shrugs. Quietly, he says, "It's my fault. I should have told them. I wasn't thinking that night at all."

Aiden looks thoughtful for a moment, then glances at Soleil. "I can't t'ink of anyone, Sol. Steven, I wouldn't go wandering too far off, eh? Might be ready any second now."

Soft, Soleil answers "I can't think of anyone either. You don't have to go, Steven. We're not up to anything." The last bit is somewhere between matter-of-fact and very, very faintly self-loathing.

Aiden's accent sounds a bit like a low-class British, or maybe Irish accent. Maybe East Coast North America?

Steven nods slowly, trying to wonder where Aiden picked up that accent. He looks to Sol, blushing. "Oh, nono, I wasn't suggesting... I mean, that is.... Argh...."

Aiden nods, "Yer welcome t' stay, Steven. I'm not gonna scruff ye out into the hall. We might's well stay close."

Steven stares at Aiden for another long moment, before asking, slowly, "'Scruff?'"

Sol's accent is unchanged, but his posture certainly is... his carefree attitude is a shadow of itself, and he moves as though trying to avoid notice. At Aiden's words, he winces and goes to sit quietly on the bed out of the way.

Aiden frowns like he's trying to figure out how to explain it. "Erm. Grabs ya by the scruff of yer neck and huck ya out.."

Sol flinches again and stares at the bedcovers.

Steven wonders if Orthallino made the clothing for Aiden a little too tight. Then he notices Sol's stance and wince, then looks at Aiden. "Okay. I heard something last night, and I wasn't sure what to make of it. What happened?"

Aiden sighs softly, his eyes going to the floor. "I've been havin' some trouble dealing with some things that have happened in my life, Steven. I.. sort of.. cracked last night. Emotionally. Like a deck o' cards with too much wind around 'em, y'know?"

Steven manages to understand something of what Aiden is saying. "Ah, so, uh, it.. kind of all came to a head, so to speak.. all the tension, and it made you -- Blast it. Where in the world were you born?"

Aiden cocks his head off to the side, "Carbonear, Newfoundland." It comes out more like "Carbon-eer, Nufunlan." Then he nods, "Yeah, exactly like that. I'll be okay, though. Don't worry yourself o'er me."

Steven nods slowly. Okay. Newfoundland. One of those Canadian places. He remembers that they speak kinda funny up there, but he thought it was just a lot more 'ehs?' instead of sounding like Irish brogue. What the hell makes an accent come back with a vengeance like that? He glances to Sol. Glad you're fine, I'm worried abotu Sol now, though -- screw that, now I'm worried about you both. "Well, uh... all right, then. I'll still go downstairs and see about the others." And, Lord Pelor forgive me, but your accent is scaring the crap out of me, Aiden.

Aiden nods, "Yeah. Right out as east as you can get. Small fishin' community. Don't stray too far, just in case."

Steven nods slowly. "DOn't worry. I won't." If for no other reason than I'm just barely resisting the urge to grab you and shake you. He starts to head down the hallway again.

The redheaded bevy of tailor's daughters shows up in the doorway, parts around Steven like the Redheaded Sea, and makes a beeline for Sol. In short order, they have him dressed in an outfit more like Steven's than Aiden's-- satin cutout pants, satin vest, thigh-high boots and golden armbands, all in cream and amber and gold. When they finish, he looks extremely expensive and a little dazed. Tiny, thin strands of glittering beads dangle from the edges of his bangs and just in front of his ears on each side, hanging to his chin like surrogate, sparkly hair.

Aiden smiles at Soleil, genuinely. "You look amazing, Soleil. That looks great on you."

Soleil un-wilts like a plant given water and beams at Aiden.

Aiden says, "The tailor was right about the colours. They really do suit you." He walks over and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, "You shine."

Soft, the amber Prince of Winter says "I guess we're ready now. I'll pack.." He gives Aiden an uncertain smile at the kiss and fairly glows as it sinks in. His smile gets more sure, and he ducks his head. "Aw. Thanks."

Aiden's bag is mostly packed already. He tosses the few things that weren't already in the pack into it, then looks at his wolf-skin cloak. "Uh, Sol?" He picks up the cloak and gives Sol a questioning look. "Wear it?"

Sol finds his bag already neatly packed and organized, and stares at it for a moment before looking up at Aiden on the verge of tears. He blinks the moment away and says, "Yes." in a mostly unstrangled voice. Clearer, he adds "We will not hide what we are. We couldn't for too long anyway, and if anyone takes that they have power over you. Don't let it out of your sight unless it's well hidd-- just don't, actually." He blinks, says "Gods, I have to tell Steven!" and dashes out of the door, grabbing his pack.

Aiden takes a moment to put the cloak on, straightening it and then straps on his sword before he grabs his pack and follows Soleil out the door and downstairs.

Steven finds Seodil and Clairchiare chatting companionably downstairs, and is immediately included when he arrives. They briefly discuss the trip ahead and ask Steven if he knows how to ride a horse right before Sol bursts in looking a little frayed, makes straight for Steven with a politely social smile at the others, and murmurs the same warning to the monk that he just gave Aiden regarding their fur-skins.

Aiden arrives shortly thereafter.

Steven blinks, then goes a bit pale at the warning, and heads upstairs quickly and with a brief excuse to the others. When out of sight he's racing up the stairs. Dammit, dammit, dammit! I should have thought of that, you dummy! Oh, I hope its' still there...!

Steven's bronze catskin is where he left it.

Steven lets out a breath, and gathers it up, folding it over his arm and holdin git closely to him as he heads back downstairs, a lot calmer.

When Steven returns, Clairchiare looks at the assembled group and says, "Are we ready to ride?"

Aiden comes into the room, nodding to Clairchiare, "Ready."

Sol nods quiet assent. Seodil actually grins.

Steven remembers something being mentioned about.. horses. "Ride...?"

The group is led outside by Clairchiare, to discover a small herd of lovely palominos. They have saddles but no bridles. Clairchiare says cheerfully, "Mount and we shall go on hooves of sunlight."

Steven is not at all sure about horses; the answer he was going to give to them when asked before was that he'd hardly ever seen horses, much less ridden any. He waits for the others to mount so he can watch and have some idea of how to do it.

Clairchiare is no help at all; he vaults on from the tail end, grinning.

Aiden walks up to one of the horses, and speaks quietly to it for a few moments, before saddling up. He doesn't have any apparent problems with this, though he does look a little confused at the lack of a bridle.

Steven lets out a breath as he watches everyone get on ewith apparently no trouble at all. Well. Time for someone to be the comic relief, I guess.

Seodil gets a glint in his eye at Clairchiare's move, but mounts sedately the usual way, one foot in a stirrup and then smoothly up and over. Something in his posture suggests it isn't over, though.

Sol attains his seat without flash, waiting in silence for the departure.

Steven pulls himself onto the saddle, but somehow manages to miss the stirrup on the other side, so his journey is marked by the zenith of his ascent seeing him in the seat, followed by a quick descent onto the other side of the palomino.

Steven's horse laughs at him. It can't possibly be anything else.

Aiden says, "Steven? Are you alright?" He seems genuinely concerned and not at all amused. Much.

From the pile that is Steven on the grund, comes a muttered, "They waxed the saddles... that mush be it." He tries to pull himself together; this is nothing worse than what his teacher put him through. Dusting himself off, he tries again, sparing the horse a brief glance.

Clairchiare blinks at Steven and throws a leg back over to slide neatly off again and walk to Steven, offering a hand up. "Do you need help? -Hssh, Elari."

This time, Steven fails to catch the stirrup solidly on his side at all. His foot slips from it as he is almost up in the seat, and clocks his chin on the saddle. "Nnrgh... Mmmph..." He looks at the horse, and murmurs a quiet thank-you, before sliding carefully into the much-lower saddle.

This time, Steven's horse sighs loudly and kneels, making it much easier.

Steven's horse sighs deeply again and gets up, giving him a look and ear-flick at the thanks. When the group starts moving, it's remarkably easy to stay in the saddle... much as if the horse is doing its best to avoid further embarassment.

Assuring the group-- Steven in particular-- kindly that the horses know the way and all they have to do is stay on, Clairchiare whirls and dashes off, which apparently signals the rest of them to try to race him out of the city. More than a handful of pedestrians scramble to get out of the way as the golden horses flag their white tails, stretch long necks and compete for the spot in front. Hours later, the city long behind and the landscape beautiful as summer can be, the little herd tops a hill and sees a white-gold city below them, surrounded by summer-green trees. Even from here, the city looks as though it grew there-- hardly a straight line in sight, arches and elaborate patterns of interlaced branches everywhere.

Steven's trip is mostly taken up by silent avowals that the horse is aiming for those low-hanging branches deliberately, though he reasons that it should be a signal to just lie low against the back of the horse. It's safer that way. The arrival at the Summer COurt, though, makes him forget the worrisome mounting of the horse and the ride, and he stares at the architecture from afar, admiring it and also unable to not feel a touch intimidated by it.

The golden horses aren't visibly tired at all, arching their necks and prancing as the city gates draw nearer. Clairchiare calls encouragingly, "Not long now and we shall all bathe properly."

Aiden spends most of his trip quiet, looking around at the scenery around him. He can't help but stare at the city as they draw close to it, though he manages not to gape at it too much.

Seodil says, "Now will you tell me what we are doing tonight, that we had to make such time, Clairchiare?"

Clairchiare beams and says "No!" Tossing his pink hair saucily behind him, braided for the ride, he turns back to the front and picks up the group pace.

Steven has a feeling that the answer will be summed up as, 'We're going to meet the person you called 'hellbitch.'

Aiden cringes slightly at that. He's never actually had the opportunity to test it, but gets the feeling that Seodil is not big on surprises in situations like this.

Sol winces, but Seodil looks only mildly annoyed, and possibly a little amused. The city draws ever closer, and suddenly swallows them up. At close range, it definitely looks like elves made it-- with nary an axe involved. Everything wooden is smooth and perfect, unpainted but polished to a gleam in all the natural colors trees have to offer. Many buildings appear to still be growing and sprouting more branches and leaves... it's quickly apparent, as well, that this is not a city. It's a wide-flung sort of palace, without the need for a roof or connecting hallways to everything.

Aiden looks quite impressed by the architecture of the palace, but as they close on it, his nerves are starting to go on edge.

The soft murmur of voices follows the riders invisibly, speakers hidden by latticework and leaves. The horses stop, and their guide slides easily off to beam at his charges. "Your quarters are here. I'll be staying near you as long as you are here, in case you have need of me. Rest and be refreshed; in an hour or two I will collect you again for--" he glances sidelong at Seodil, who gives him a grumpy look-- "to introduce you to some of my friends before you formally meet the Princess and Queen in a day or so."

Steven nods slowly, and wonders if that's Summer-speak for 'beat down.' "Thank you, Clairchiare."

Clairchiare waves generally at the open archways nearby and vanishes into one of them.

Aiden carefully slips off of his horse, a little stiff from the ride. It's been a long time since he's been in the saddle. "Thank you, Clairchiare."

Steven winces as he gets off the horse. Sore butt, sore thighs... he's just going to leave it under the category of sore-all-over.

Seodil makes a grumpily amused noise, turns and heads into one of the indicated archways.

Aiden looks around carefully, peering into a couple of the archways. It's a bit confusing and he's trying to get some sort of bearings on the place around them. "This is even more confusing than Winter."

Sol says "I think we have suites, again. And I smell hot water..." He gives the nearest archway, not taken yet, a longing look. "It's not that bad if you just remember which way you came in when you want to go out again."

Steven tries not to move much, since his walking looks more like hobbling. It's warmer than Winter.. and something else Soleil had once said about the Court not being so much a where as a when makes him wonder idly, how long time has passed in the Grey World. For some reason, he suspects that it's been just about one half to three quarters of a year. "Maybe we shouldn't go wandering around, then, until, uh, later. And not even alone, if possible."

Aiden frowns a bit, "I'll keep that in mind, thanks." He peers into another one, looking for the suites that Sol mentioned.

The view through the archway shows a round common room with mossy couches around a sunken pool, and ivy everywhere hanging down the posts that support the roof-- there are no actual walls separating the common room from the walkway.

There is a wall, farther in. More archways lead off from it, with no visible doors to close. Through the nearest a green-coverleted bed is visible.

Steven blinks and hopes he doesn't become too modest about these arrangements. Though it'll be hard to sleep with no walls whatsoever.

Soleil looks at Steven with sympathy and says, "Hot water will help." He nods his amber head toward the sunken pool, beaded hair sparkling, and heads that way himself.

Steven nods, and stats to head there, before pausing and looking at his clothes and the beadwork in his hair. "Er.. should we wait before entering the water? I mean.. I don't remember how they put these into my hair..."

Aiden walks into the suite and looks for a place to put his pack down. He sits, ignoring the bath for now.

There appear to be four suites total, once the group walks a little farther. More space than the four of them need; they have only to walk along the pathway to get to the others, and could bring home and house a friend or two each from tonight's party without making anyone share sleeping space. Each suite has two or three bedrooms leading off from the common room and its pool.

Sol grins at Steven. "Looks secure, but try not to get your hair wet. I imagine we'll end up redoing our hair every morning or two. Don't worry." He tilts his head. "I would take off the clothes, though." He strips out of his, laying them across the nearest literally mossy couch, and steps into the hot water to sit and lean his head back on the pool's smooth rim.

Aiden finds the living couches and several backless, organic wooden chairs as sitting options. His pack could go on the bed through one archway, the floor, or anywhere, really. The floor is clean if somewhat alive.

Aiden leans his elbow on the arms of the couch, propping his head on his hand and takes the time to relax for a while.

Steven nods, and thinks that, in that case, a soak will do a world of good, and starts to carefully take the clothes off, leaving the catskin cloak nearby the edge of the pool and always visible.

Steven's soak does him a world of good, leeching the stiff ache out of his horse-pounded parts. Aiden falls asleep sitting on the floor, leaning back against his couch, and Sol doesn't move an eyelash once he's settled in the pool. Seodil suggests that the soakers not stay in the full two hours lest they wrinkle in an unsightly manner, and goes to nap in one of the bedrooms. Clairchiare arrives as dusk is falling, two hours later, in clothing that matches Orthallino's work for the group-- patterned vest and tight pants in deep burgundy, embroided with citrine, crystal and gold. He says, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, "It is time." Seodil emerges silently from his room.

Steven followed Seodil's advice, and soaked only for about an hour before getting out and getting dried off and dressed, taking an hour to meditate and rest. Clairchiare's simple pronouncement worries him somewhat, even as he is standing and stretching.

Sol is ready and dry as well, having removed himself from the water with Steven. Gently, he moves to wake Aiden, kneeling to touch the other man's shoulder and murmur.

Aiden stays where he is on the couch, actually catching a bit of a nap, which is good judging by how tired he looked earlier today. He doesn't wake up until Clairchiare arrives, but seems much more lively after that.

Aiden stretches out when Soleil wakes him, finally pulling himself up. He yawns once, but he apparently wakes up much more quickly than he did when the group first started out.

Pink cotton-candy hair fluttering behind him in the gathering darkness, Clairchiare leads the group through hopelessly twisty paths in the dim, lit only by distant torches and fireflies. They emerge at last into an open area bordered by roofed walkways, where thirty or so beautiful people are lit by fireflies.

Aiden spends most of the walk looking around at the architecture, quite fascinated with it. He stops dead when they walk into the room, looking at the people gathered around.

Clairchiare's voice rings out, "Friends! We gather tonight to celebrate new allies and renew old ties-- in the name of the House of Averet, I bring you Prince Soleil of Winter, his courtiers Aiden and Steven, and-- my brother Seodil!"

Steven is quite entranced by the way these elves have built the Summer COurt, though it stands to reason -- Winter was built from ice, of course this would made from its seasonal opposite. At Clairchiare's words, he tenses a bit. He wonders curiously, based on Clairchiare's words, if the center of attention is going to be Seodil or Soleil.

The courtyard is suddenly lit with a shower of orange sparks as someone previously warned about the annoucement lights all the bordering torches simultaneously. The thirty Summer faces revealed are an interesting study in emotion, not all the same. The one constant appears to be universal surprise at Clairchiare's announcement...

Aiden glances at Soleil and Seodil.

Sol has his polite, cheerful smile on and looks ready to greet all thirty like a good little prince. Seodil looks as though he'd really like to turn and bolt.

Clairchiare seizes Seodil's hand and drags him into the throng, beaming as though he invented his new brother all by himself.

Steven is, for the moment, glad that he's not even remotely at the center of attention. He wonders, though, which of the two is going to draw a dagger this time, and for what.

Looking desperately resigned, the silver elf disappears into the crowd as the Summer agemates of Clairchiare start to swell outward to engulf the rest of the party.

Aiden looks as relieved as Steven not to be at the centre of attention, but he is obviously a bit worried about Soleil and Seodil. He sticks close to Soleil.

Four women converge on Steven, Aiden and Soleil like a walking sunset, though three of them are towing the fourth, a shyer girl with long, straight pale green hair. "Lindenel, don't be so shy," chides the apparent leader, whose hair shades from orange to pink to yellow. She smiles at Steven, sizing him up, and extends her hand. "I'm Saretefianiel. Delighted."

The other two focus on Aiden and Sol, one daffodil-colored-- "Ilirith. A pleasure," and the second pushing lavender hair coyly back with an elegant hand as she smiles, "My name is Yaeateanis."

Aiden smiles, "A pleasure to meet you both."

All but Lindenel have golden-yellow eyes. Lindenel's are pink as any albino rabbit's, though her skin is pleasantly olive.

Steven is only a little taken aback, swallowing his own nervousness, and he half-bows politely over her hand. "Er... I'm pleased to meet you, Saretefianeiel." Hehopes he hasn't mangled the name. "My name is Steven. Please forgive me if I do anything in error, I do not mean to offend, I am only unversed in the Summer Court's ways." Nice, Steven. Open yourself up to being taken advantage of. Dummy. SHould have asked what the proper way to say 'hello' is, beforehand.

Saretefianiel gives Steven a half-lidded look from under pink-orange lashes and purrs, "We'll be gentle. You don't need forgiveness yet." She winks and says throatily, "Call me Sarete, dear. Your tongue needs stretching, I think, before it's quite up to us."

Ilirith flips her wealth of daffodil curls back and grins at Aiden. "So, I'll cut to the chase. Who's single?"

Steven outwardly smiles, and says, "Thank you, Sarete." Inwardly... he's otherwise at a complete and uttter loss as to what to say to that.

Sol and Yaeateanis make pleasant smalltalk, meanwhile.

Aiden coughs, if only to keep himself from choking. He looks at Illirith and says politely, "I am not."

Ilirith grins, unfazed, and says "I'm not surprised. What lovely eyes you have. Do you know how rare blue is around here? We've been trying to breed it back in for ages but it always comes out green." She eyes Aiden thoughtfully.

Aiden smiles, "Thank you, Ilirith. I wish you luck in that."

Sarete purrs at Steven, "Oh, thank you. It's simply darling of you to give us an excuse for a party." She sways closer, golden eyes narrow and bright.

Yaeateanis says something soft that brings a quiet laugh out of Soleil. They drift a few steps from the group.

Ilirith says with blunt cheer to Aiden, "If you're willing to stand stud, let someone know, hm?"

Aiden tries not to look as startled as he is by the woman's forwardness. "I.. will do."

Steven feels a 'flee' reflex building up within him, but for Soleil's sake he avoids giving in to it, though he feels like scurrying away. he has no idea where he'd run to anyway. The green-haired elf, Lindenel, looks like she doesn't want to be there; he wonders if it's simply a lack of desire to be there or just shyness. "Ah... You're very welcome." He glances curiously to Lindenel.

Ilirith beams and reaches skifully to pat Aiden's hand. "Good! Do forgive me, as Court Gardener I try to help out in the flowering of our own kind as well. Now, who's your lover?"

Aiden tilts his head off to the side, smiling. "You keep the court gardens?" He doesn't answer the other question, hoping to distract her. As far as he's concerned, that's entirely too personal.

Sarete notices Steven's glance and firmly tucks her hand in the crook of his arm as she murmurs "Linden's shy, poor dear. We do try to get her to extend her circle, but there are so few new people... her betrothed is not very, mm, thoughtful of her..."

Aiden glances over at the man he noted before. The one that didn't look surprised at Clairchiare's announcement, but showed the sharp pang of dismay in his features.

Ilirith gives Aiden a shrewd golden look and says, "I do. If you wander off alone and something reaches toward you, don't go closer. I can save you if they get to me in time, but it's best to keep a guide who knows where the guardians lie. If you like, I'll give you a safety tour."

Aiden looks a bit nervous about that. "That would probably be wise. I'll remember not to wander there without guidance."

Aiden's sharp, slim little man with the green eyes and wavy black hair is leaning against a treetrunk-pillar at the edge of the courtyard, sipping from a wine glass and watching everyone else, eyes moving to cover the entire party bit by bit. Unlike almost everyone else, his clothes are dark.

Steven nods slowly, matching her tone, "Oh, ah, I see.... That must be very difficult." He winces inwardly at the taking of his arm, glancing over to Aiden. I wish Lotte was here.... Then we'd both have some sort of excuse to, well, avoid problems....

Sarete smirks at Steven, "Oh, it is. He's never going to marry her, you know."

Aiden notes to himself where the man is, then keeps his attention off him. He's wary of him already.

Steven blinks, and wonders if it's polite to talk about this with her standing just nearby. "... Er...."

Steven clears his throat a little. "I... guess that's just rather a surprise to me...." he tries to think of some way to politely say hello to the lady without causing any undue mistakes.

Ilirith smiles, "It will be my pleasure, Aiden. I'd be dreadfully embarassed if my pets ate the visiting Prince or his... entourage. Just ask Clair when you want me; he always knows how to find me. Oh... and Aiden? This is very important, and tell your friends. Don't pick any roses while you're staying here." She winks, and slips off with bouncing yellow curls.

Lindenel is gazing off into space, much like a daydreamer in elementary school-- or anyone else who would rather live an internal life.

Aiden looks around for Soleil, who was moving away from him last time he saw. He looks for Steven too, worried about everyone's safety.

Steven is easily found, firmly anchored by his sunset-haired captor. Soleil is drifting slowly toward the main group with the lavender-haired Yaeateanis, apparently having a reasonably pleasant conversation.

Aiden keeps an eye on Soleil, but sticks closer to Steven, just in case Steven needs him. He's fairly certain that Soleil is much better in this sort of social situation. Probably better than him and Steven put together.

Sarete glomms slowly but surely closer onto Steven.

Steven swallows and remembers that he needs to say something. "Ah... thank you for telling me. I wouldn't want to. do something untoward." He glances to Lindenel, inclinging his head politely. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lindenel."

Lindenel startles, pale green hair jerking, and looks at Steven with wide pink doe-eyes, helplessly pretty and utterly without social grace. She blinks and says in a very small voice, "Ah! Oh, er, a pleasure to meet you as well, uh..."

Steven feels a bit ashamed at his relief that Lindenel is probably in much the same boat he's in as far as being in a social situation that is strongly overwhelming. he smiles a little. "Er... sorry. Steven."

Lindenel looks grateful and nods. "...sorry. Steven." She glances longingly at the growing darkness outside the circle of party torches.

Sarete sniffs a little and presses ample cleavage-- for an elf, judging by the other girls-- to Steven's arm. She's probably every bit of a B cup.

Aiden stays away from conversation as much as he can, worried that he'll cause some sort of incident. He keeps a close eye on Seodil, Steven and Soleil throughout, and occassionally glances over to the dark man, making sure he knows where he is.

Steven makes polite smalltalk with Sarete and Lindenel, not trying to exclude one in favor of the other, though he respects Lindenel's reluctance; all he wants is to make it as not-painful for her to be there as possible. And he absolutely does not talk about most of their adventures, or the Grey World. And especially the dragon's lock. He does not go there at all.

Though the dark man leaves his post to mingle, Aiden never sees him in range to talk to Seodil, though he does speak briefly with Clairchiare when Seodil is off getting another drink.

Lindenel is awkwardly shy and reserved, but unfolds over time to talk back to Steven almost like a normal person. She never once mentions her betrothed, though she's possibly the only female at the party not trying to flirt with Steven, either. She turns out to have a quick mind when not terrified of talking or out of touch, and apparently spends much of her time reading or sculpting trees.

There is absolutely no telling what Lindenel would make of the dragon story if it did come out, but Sarete doesn't seem likely to be fazed by much of anything...

[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]





Last modified: 2001-Jun-12 14:20:21

All material on this site is
Copyright © 2001-2024 Reality Fault
unless specifically indicated on each document.
All Rights Reserved.
Administrated by Reality Fault Webmaster