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Reality Fault

Realms: Idlewild Logs

January 25

Jan 25 2004

Ilirith's return into the main area out of her research walkabout is heralded by light footsteps. Steven notices them in time, from where he is standing reading the great Book of Names chained to the table. Aiden, over by the stacks nearby, is hidden from view of the others as he reads Setisel's war journal, but can hear them...

Aiden closes the journal and sets it back in it's place on the shelf, then walks back over towards where Steven is.

Steven whispers to the book to the list of names it was at before Ilirith left -- Deosil Averet -- so she doesn't get suspicious of anything. He is ildly going though the names in the family tree there, seemingly -- and in actuality, very -- fascinated by not only the lineages but the book itself.

Ilirith strolls up to Steven looking disgruntled. "I know there's a book..." she mutters, then breaks off to smile at Steven as she comes even with him. Glancing at the book, she says "Have you an interest in breeding, philosopher?"

Steven is honestly not sure how to answer that question. "Uhm... well, I've an interest in history, certainly, including that presented by these family trees."

As if that was quite all she meant, Ilirith nods and says with a finger pointed toward the list of Rluel Averet's dead children, "Tragic, this. The Averets were not doing well until Clairchiare was born; he's the last of that name." She pauses. "Well. He was, as far as we knew, til your pretty silver stallion pranced up."

Steven asks, curiously, "Was there any reason why they weren't doing so well?

Steven knows that was just one of those questions that will make him seem like an utter witling.....

Scowling, Ilirith stabs a finger toward 'Deosil Averet' on the page, but doesn't actually poke the book, muttering "If that old bitch hadn't lost so many I'd know this was the one, but she might have grown so tired she stopped giving them very different names til she knew if they'd.. oh, but this must be him. If it isn't, he's not an Averet. The Book is always right." She blinks up at Steven. "Oh, there surely was. You don't get bad luck like that for nothing.. but do I know what it was? No, and I'd say the same if I did. Bitch I'll call her, but a secret like that would get me killed, Steven the philosopher." She includes Aiden in her suddenly serious gaze. "You'd both do well to remember that, too. She looks as sweet as her son, but..."

The yellow-haired, golden-eyed elf breaks off and just says, "Never let down your guard with any of the old ones. They play different games than we do."

Steven nods soberly, and says in a quiet voice, "Thank you for the advice, Ilirith. We'll take it to heart."

Aiden tilts his head off to the side. "Thank you, Ilirith. We will heed your warning." He has a chill, like someone just stepped on his grave. If Ilirith is warning them - someone who doesn't seem to care much about them beyond their breeding potential - then it has to be serious.

Cheerful as a daffodil again, Ilirith smiles and says "Do, you two. You know I haven't given up hope that you'll find nice girls here." She glances down at the Book and says, "Or that the Averet name might not die with Clairchiare after all." She makes a glum face.

Aiden smiles slightly. "There's always hope."

Aiden blinks at the concern for the Averet line, "Surely he'll marry and have children."

Steven wonders why it mightdie with Clairchiare, but he doesn't ask. That's poking a bit too deeply, and is likely to make Ilirith unhappy. Then again I can just have Aiden ask, he thinks wryly.

Ilirith gives Aiden a look. "We gave up on that when the Princess married and Clairchiare found God. He hasn't touched anyone since."

Aiden winces, "My apologies."

Steven thinks, This explains Seodil's nostalgia when the princess and that year-and-a-day thing was mentioned. Maybe he had hopes....

The yellow hair tosses as Ilirith snorts. "Not your fault, Aiden my blue-eyed flower. But thanks. If you care enough to give an ancient line another generation, talk to your silver pretty. He needn't stay, just consider dalliance... Clairchiare would be lovely with children, he just won't be the one to spread the seed."

Aiden nods, "I'm sure he'd be very good with children." He's doing well with us. "Incidently, Ilirith, thank you, for bringing us here today. It's been a very pleasant morning. I do hope we haven't worn out our welcome into the library. I'd certainly like to return."

Steven nods, "Yes, thank you, it's very interesting here. And quite lovely, too.

Ilirith says, "Oh, I'd be happy to bring-- actually, I don't see why you can't come back on your own now that you know the way. Besides the gargoyles, of course. I'll see if I can get you a charm, ok? Til then, grab someone to let you in, hmm? Never open the door yourself." She beams at Steven. "Oh, you're very welcome as well, philosopher. I do enjoy your sense of humor. Now, if you don't mind, I need to be going."

Aiden's eyes widen. "Right. Gargoyles. We'll make sure that we have someone to bring us here in the meantime. Speaking strictly for myself, I'm going to need a few trips back before I learn the way anyhow."

Steven smiles to Ilirith, and nods in agreement with Aiden. Gargoyles...?

Ilirith says, "Hm. Well, I'm not free tomorrow, but Sar-- ahh. There she is. Sarete? Would you take these gentleman to the library tomorrow?" Sarete grins from the door, having entered quite silently. "Oh," she purrs, "I'd love to."

Aiden smiles, "Thank you."

Steven swallows silently, and smiles pleasantly, nodding in greeting to Sarete.

Sarete's eye contact back at Steven is nothing short of smouldering as she smiles slowly at him, ignoring Aiden completely.

Ilirith walks blithely out, saying over her shoulder "Sarete can show you home..."

Steven is more than a bit worried that she's ignoring Aiden. "Ah.. thank you, very much, Sarete."

Aiden glances between Steven and Sarete, face passive. "Steven. We should probably get Sarete to lead us back shortly, if that's alright with you, of course, Sarete. We have to get ready for dinner tonight, and we should probably redo our hair."

Shimmering hair matching her gossamer gown-- shading from pink to orange to yellow at the tips-- Sarete slinks over, with a smile for Aiden that has nothing on the warmth she gives Steven's greeting. "Oh," she smiles, "I'd be happy to take you now. This way?" She turns toward the door and smiles over her sleeveless shoulder.

Aiden nods, "Thank you, Sarete." He follows when she leads, again paying careful attention as they walk, to the direction that they are going. He's trying to memorise routes.

Steven nods to Aiden, trying not to be too quick about it. "Of course...." He walks with Aiden out the library, one part of his mind on the lookout for these gargoyles Ilirith mentioned, and another part of his mind wondering why there's such an unusual range of colors here.

The gargoyles catch Steven's eye on the way out when he chances to look up at the ceiling immediately over the entrance doors... or one of them does, at least. The size of a large Rottweiler, it perches in an inset niche and gives Steven a slow, baleful wink out of one stony eye. At least... he thinks it does... nothing else on the griffinlike statue moved...

Not looking for it, Aiden does not see the gargoyle. He does manage to set a few landmarks in mind to mark the turns on the way back, though... he thinks.

Steven doesn't draw attention to the gargoyle, neither does he say anything about it winking. it's bad enough people think him crazy for talking about walking furniture.

Aiden spots a couple of good landmarks as they walk, and is completely certain that he can find his way back to the library without being led, if not for the gargoyles.. He doesn't much like the idea of being eaten by a stone statue.

Sarete follows the men into the common of their suite when they arrive, where Sol, Seodil and Clairchiare are all seated, talking. Seodil and Clairchiare share a couch, curled up in mirror-image like mismatched bookends. All three look up and smile as Aiden and Steven return. Sarete glances around and says happily, "With so many of you to do by dinner, I'm sure you could use a hand with your hair. Thank the light I happened by, hm?"

Soleil blinks and says "Aiden and I are doing each other's!" Right behind him, Seodil says "Clairchiare has me." Everyone on the couches turns ever so slightly to smile at Steven.

Aiden smiles at the others when he arrives, "Good afternoon Soleil, Seodil, Clairchiare." He bows his head when everyone turns to look at Steven. If he looks at anyone, he'll crack up with laughter.

Steven finds the prospect vaguely worrying, but he doesn't show it. Instead he quickly tries to gauge everyone else's... reaction. They're all looking at me and smiling. I'm going to feed them to the gargoyles. And whomever survives I'm gonna feed to the luggage. "Uhm... I'd be honored and pleased if you would, Sarete, thank you."

Sarete smiles charmingly and takes Steven's arm, leading him over to the free spot on the couch. She looks around. "So, what is the dinner occasion?"

Clairchiare and Seodil look at each other and then find great interest in examining their fingernails. If it wasn't Seodil, one could swear he was trying not to look at Steven, and not to crack up laughing.

Aiden walks over to where Soleil is sitting, and sits down next to him if there's space. If there isn't, he sits in front of him, on the ground.

Steven wonders when the conspirators are going to answer Sarete's question... and if they have any intention of doing each others' hair. He's not entirely sure what the dinner occasion is, either, though.

Sol pulls Aiden against his shins and starts sneakily rubbing his shoulders, barely noticeable under Aiden's shoulder-length hair. Sarete has already claimed the couch seat next to Sol on that couch... by seating Steven there and then sitting on his lap as Aiden arrives and leans on Sol.

Sol says diplomatically, "It is a private dinner we owe in thanks to Linden for her kind services to us. Perhaps another time we will hold something larger."

Aiden relaxes under Sol's sneaky massage. "How was your morning?"

Steven swallows a bit, nervously. Why does she have to sit on my lap?! I thought she was doing my hair? Oh, this is distinctly uncomfortable. He tries not to let his discomfort show too much, instead cloaking it in apparent confusion. And, frankly, he is confused. he starts to plan for an emergency trip to the washroom shortly.

Sol grins behind Aiden's head. "There is the strangest thing in the Trophy Room at the stables. I've got to take you by. The Prince said he caught it recently; the beast was covered in a hard carapace, bigger than two horses, brayed louder than a hunting horn, and it got away. But he cut off its tail. Strangest tail you ever saw..."

Aiden tilts his head back to look up at Sol. "I look forward to seeing it!"

Sarete snuggles up to Steven, shifting to sit sideways on his lap and put her arm around his shoulders. She starts playing with his dreadlocks. "So... what do you want to do with your hair tonight, Steven? Some of the tigereye is coming loose-- I can tighten that for you?"

Sol winks down at Aiden. "Apparently it had eaten a person-- its stomach was clear. The person looked human, maybe elven; it was moving too fast to tell, he says. She was waving in panic and trying to get out, but the Prince couldn't save her..."

Steven glances up to Sarete. "Er... yes, please, if you could." For some reason he is really dreading Lindenel walking in and seeing this, despite -- well, despite anything. "Actually, could you excuse me for a moment? I need to... wash up a bit."

Steven blinks at Sol, and feels more than a little queasy.

Aiden blinks up at Sol. "That's... unfortunate." He looks a bit queasy himself.

"Oh, certainly, Steven." Sarete wriggles out of his lap onto the couch by Soleil and smiles up. "I'll fix you when you get back."

Sol looks fascinated and a little skeptical, not a bit queasy. He nods vigorously and moves to rubbing Aiden's neck with an expert touch.

Steven smiles, and nods to Sarete as he stands. "Thank you...." He makes his way to the washroom. Though the story wasn't completely disturbing, it was more than a bit disturbing. Lord Pelor, what a world we've come into. I'll never be able to read another fantasy story again....

Aiden didn't realise quite how tense sitting on the floor hunched over a book had made him. He's quite enjoying the attention, not to mention getting rid of the crick in his neck.

Clairchiare speaks up and says solemnly, "Tragic. I shall join the formal hunt for thus beast a few days hence. Prince Soleil has been invited, of course, but said he had to confer with his retinue."

Aiden frowns. He doesn't like the idea of that very much. In fact, a vision of Soleil in the stomach of this thing was the first image that came to mind and it makes him very unhappy to think about.

The washroom adjoining Steven's bedroom is blessedly free of blatantly seductive elves, and too quiet for the conversation in the other room to carry-- the walls are far thicker than they look.

Sol looks up at Aiden a little anxiously. He murmurs, "Surely we'll be safe in a formal hunt if we all go."

Aiden looks up at Sol, apologetically. He stands, "Excuse me." He heads back into the room he and Soleil share, determined to get these numbers down before he forgets. Once in the room, with the door shut, but transparent from his side, he starts hunting for paper, pens, a notebook. Anything.

Paper wrapped some of the clothes that arrived, but a pen is harder to come by. In fact, it's not in evidence...

Aiden frowns, and goes to digging through his pack to see if there's something in there from when he first arrived. He knows the pen he was using was in the tent next to the lake, but maybe he's got another shoved in the bottom of a pocket.

The other pen turns up in the last place Aiden looks in his pack, almost magically.

Aiden grabs the pen and some paper from the chests, then sits and starts writing. About halfway through writing stuff down, he drops his pen. "Oh, shit." He looks at the numbers again. He knows he memorised them right, but, Clairchiare's father can't have died fifty years before Clairchiare was born, can he?

The numbers Aiden memorised stare back at him most unhelpfully.

Aiden picks up his pen and writes out the rest of it, then underlines Clairchiare's birthdate. He folds the bit of paper up small and tosses it into a pocket, along with the pen. "That doesn't make any sense."

Through Aiden

Through Aiden's transparent door, the conversation appears to be going on without him-- and Sarete is edging toward Sol on that couch. Sol looks oblivious to it, but Aiden's quite sure he isn't... and that Sol is in fact faintly alarmed.

Aiden looks out the door, narrowing his eyes at Sarete's edging towards Sol. He stands up, now that the paper is safely stowed away, and heads back out to sit down in front of Sol.

Sarete stops edging toward Sol and gives Aiden a thoughtful glance... looks back at Sol... sighs and leans back on the couch a bit petulantly. She glances around and says, "What, do we all like boys, then?"

Steven decides he's been out long enough, and moves cautiously back to the sitting room, hoping that something has changed.

Sol is about to speak, and actually gets as far as drawing a determined breath, when Seodil smiles and beats him to the first answer. Looking straight at Sarete, Seodil says "It is more fun when boys cry." And smiles. Unnervingly. Directly into Sarete's eyes. She closes her mouth with a not quite audible snap and leans a little farther back into the couch, looking away-- towards Aiden, as it happens.

Aiden's looking right at Seodil when he says that. He was actually about to answer Sarete's question for himself as well, but Seodil's answer sort of derails any answer that he was about to give. Aiden manages to smile faintly at Sarete when she looks at him and says, "I prefer men, yes."

Seeing Steven emerge, Sarete gives him a look that suggests she's drowning and hopes he might save her, eyes wide and a little frightened. She says in a small voice, "Steven? Shall I start on your hair if you sit in front of me? I... I can't stay too long, I just remembered."

Steven hearing the interaction, Steven does not blame Sarete for being utterly discomfited. He decides not to tell her about the setting-on-fire incident. He smiles, hopefully comfortingly, and nods. "Sure. Thank you, Sarete, I appreciate it greatly." He sits himself cross-legged in front of Sarete, his back to her. And if I hadn't known Seodil for as long as I have, that would have disturbed me a lot more than it actually did, so don't worry, Sarete.

Steven's hair assistant works quickly and neatly, setting Steven's dreads to rights, tightening the beads and wire woven into them and giving him a tidy little crown of braided dreadlocks around the top of his head to keep his hair out of his face. The conversation continues blithely around her as Clairchiare and Sol fill in the sudden silence with hunting plans for the mysterious beast. Clairchiare's eyes are suspiciously bright, though he never cracks a smile until the conversation with Sol makes it appropriate.

Sarete finishes and excuses herself, showing no inclination to linger as Seodil calls a soft farewell with an evil little smile.

Aiden smiles, "Farewell, Sarete." He doesn't look at Seodil, he's going to laugh if he looks at Seodil.

Steven says, "Thank you again, Sarete. Take care.... "He does try to make his farewell at least a little comfortingg. He thinks that the number of prospective 'mares' to Seodil's 'silver stallion' is going to drop precipitously."

Aiden looks over at Steven, and chuckles softly.

Clairchiare waits until Sarete's hurrying footsteps can no longer be heard, then collapses onto his couch arm and laughs into his sleeve, face buried to muffle the sound, shoulders shaking. Seodil's mouth twitches... and he leans on his side and snickers.

At the sound of Clairchiare and Seodil laughing, Aiden can't contain it anymore, he laughs, forehead resting on his hand.

Soleil sighs, ruefully. "Thank you both... I know there's no alliance to be made here for me, but I was half more worried at being honest and having word get around that the entire court could flirt with me."

Sol flicks a sideways grin at Steven. "I'm sorry we scared your friend away..." He doesn't sound really sorry, but he's not being snide either. "You can probably get her back if you try."

Aiden shakes his head slightly from side to side, still amused. He glances up at Clairchiare, "When should we be expecting the others?"

Clairchiare recovers himself and says solemnly to Seodil, "Sir, you should sit before me so that I may address your hairstyle, but you must assure me that you will not make me cry." His mouth twitches.

Steven says, "Oh... erm, that's all right, it's, er, nearly time for dinner, as it is, I think. I don't think he'll be wanting to come back...." He's not sounding entirely glad for that, though he is relieved she probably won't be pursuing them after this,

Aiden leans his head back against Soleil's knees, looking up at Sol's hair, to see if it needs to be redone, and if he can figure out how to go about doing it if it does.

Seodil snickers quietly again and slides off the couch to let Clairchiare work on his waist-length mane. "I will give you no tears tonight, twin." This is apparently good enough for the rose elf, who cheerfully starts work.

Sol's short hair is tousled, falling out of at least half its braids of a few days ago and missing beads. It looks like a serious bit of work is needed... and someone who knows what they're doing.

Aiden lifts his head and glances at Seodil. "When you're done, would you show me how to do Sol's? I'm not sure I can figure it out without being shown once first.."

Seodil does not move his head, but lifts a hand to beckon. "If you will bring him in reach, I can show you while I am made pretty." He grins very briefly.

Aiden stands up and offers Sol his hand to get up. When Sol's up, Aiden goes and sits down next to Seodil, so he can watch what the silver elf is doing.

Clairchiare blinks and looks suddenly embarassed. "I am sorry, Aiden... I did not answer. We have perhaps an hour now, and they will arrive. It was thoughtful of Prince Soleil to finish your hair immediately; we are short on time, I have been remiss."

Aiden blinks, trying to figure out what Clairchiare is refering to. "Oh!" He grins, "I'd forgotten I asked, quite alright."

Sol takes Aiden's hand and lead, sitting meekly enough in front of Seodil to have his hair done without outward protest. Seodil does a good job of showing Aiden what needs to be done-- and in fact goes ahead and does most of it, leaving only a little to Aiden's slower hands while the silver elf braids Clairchiare's hair into a crown of quite passable roses over the straight fall of the rest. Clairchiare suggests everyone change if they're planning to, and those who wish to wear finer or fresher things return barely before Linden arrives on Rathskeliad's arm, both looking antique and lovely in shades of green and ivory with black accents. Clairchiare produces pillows and a low table out of nowhere obvious, and as the food appears everyone has a seat whether floor-pillow or couch. Seodil and Clairchiare give up their couch to the couple without saying a word.

Aiden is quite content to sit on the floor. He did take the opportunity to get changed into something different for dinner, however.

Steven changed, as well, though he too is comfortable on the cusihions, not at all minding sitting that way. he tries to see when the food appears, just how it appears and in what way. He's also mildly curious as to how Clairchiare produced a table and chair... but he's not going to ask about it this time. The last time he mentioned somethign odd, people looked at him funny. Well, the time before last, anyway.

One moment the food is not there; the next, the low table is fully and elegantly set and the dishes are filled. Sadly, it happened when Steven blinked; apparently it takes no longer. Clairchiare beams at his old friends and makes the introductions, a polite reminder in case anyone has forgotten, almost as though he is showing off a childhood creation he's fond of but isn't sure anyone will understand without interpretation of the scribbles. Rathskeliad smiles tolerantly before touching Clairchiare lightly on the arm as he finishes and murmuring. "We have all met, I think, but thank you." He smiles at the company and raises his glass to Soleil. "To your health, Prince of Winter."

Aiden smiles politely at Rathskeliad and Linden, "Thank you for joining us."

Steven smiles warmly in greeting to the two; he likes Linden, and though Rathskeliad scares him a bit, he doesn't want either of them discomfited. He resolves to keep the silly questions to a mininum tonight.

Linden smiles shyly and looks down after soft thanks. Rathskeliad smiles at Aiden more directly and says, "It is our pleasure; we thank you for having us. I find your company fascinatingly different. It must be the culture."

Aiden nods at Rathskeliad, "There are some cultural differences, indeed. Thank you.. for your fascination."

Soleil smiles at Rathskeliad after accepting the toast with a raised glass and sip, as do Clairchiare and Seodil. Sol politely breaks bread and eats a bite, then says, "The cultural differences interest me too, actually. What was it like to grow up in Summer, Keli?"

Aiden raises his glass to Rathskeliad in turn, and takes a sip. He's quite interested in what Rathskeliad has to say, and listens intently, eating, but slowly as he listens.

Steven listens to the conversation curiously, eating the foot not sparingly and also listening.

Rathskeliad says thoughtfully, twirling his glass by the elegant stem and watching the dark red wine swirl, "I am not honestly sure, Sol. I was not here until I was past my earlier childhood; we lived by the seashore, before Mother returned to court after her vacation. I was perhaps thirty when I came here."

Steven nods quietly, thinking, So an elf in his thirties is still in his childhood, maybe a preteen in Grey World terms? That reminds me, then... how old is Sol?

Aiden feels very young all of a sudden.

Aiden looks at Rathskeliad thoughtfully, and says, "How did you find the transition to the court, if you weren't here until you were thirty?"

Rathskeliad continues, "I really had no other children to play with until Clairchiare, as my mother made frequent trips to the sea in hopes of finding more of my father's people. He died before I was born, you see." He looks at Aiden. "Lonely, to be frank. Clairchiare was a godsend." He smiles.

Linden eats a little, quietly attentive though she seems unsurprised by the discussion.

Aiden smiles, "I'm glad that he was able to help with the loneliness. I'm sorry that you never had the opportunity to meet your father."

Rathskeliad chuckles and says, "That's very kind of you, Aiden. Are you close to yours?"

Steven considers that. Rathskeliad's father wasn't an elf, then. He wonders -- with a bit of a shiver -- if the father was related to the sirens that he, uh, learned about in the brothel.

Aiden says, "I don't know my birth parents. I was raised by adoptive parents and I was very close to my mother. My father and I.. didn't see eye to eye on, well, much of anything."

Rathskeliad makes a sympathetic noise. "Ah, I'm sorry, Aiden. Have you lost him, then?"

Aiden nods, "Both of them."

Linden says softly, "I'm very sorry, Aiden," and seems to mean it. "My grandmother was killed by hunters." She pauses and looks back down at her plate, embarassed.

Aiden blinks, "Oh, that's awful, Linden, I'm so sorry."

Shyly, Linden ducks her head and gives Aiden a thank-you smile. Rathskeliad pats her shoulder and smiles at Steven. "I hope your past is less tragic?"

Steven blinks in surpise at the sudden focus on him. Darnit, why do people always do that. I'm minding my own business then suddenly, BAM! 'It's time for your close-up, Steven Kananga!' "Well, I never knew my own parents either. I was raised in a Cath-- uh, a religious home for orphans, until I ran away from there, and began studying under a teacher of philosophy." Yes, I know, teacher was so much more than that, but I'll be happy to expound on that if they would know what I'd be talking about. They might very well know, to, I wouldn't out that beyond them.

Both green-haired elves look interested at the 'philosophy' part, and Linden says with a laugh in her voice, "Oh, no, you should not have told Clairchiare that... he loves few things more deeply than philosophizing. You will be up all night tonight if you let him keep you talking." She looks briefly animated, if shyly so.

Aiden grins at Linden's words. He's actually quite glad to see her speaking a little more confidently, even if only for a moment.

Rathskeliad just says politely, "Fascinating. So, are any of us truly products of our supposed culture, then, I wonder?" He smiles. "We all seem a bit transplanted, and taken quite early at that... well, all save the good prince and Clairchiare, that is."

Steven laughs, "I wouldn't mind, actually." It'd help me to focus on what I believe in,a fter all, which I haven't done so much lately.

Clairchiare grins at Steven, failing to look solemn. He says with dignity, "It would be my pleasure. I will not even attempt to convert you to the glory of our golden lord," and winks.

Aiden says, "I tend to believe that the experience of other cultures, while it certainly imprints certain traits on us, also helps us deal with new cultures with more ease. At least, as I've found it."

Rathskeliad gives Aiden a thoughtful look as Sol smiles fondly at his dark blonde lover. Keli says, "Do go on, Aiden. I'd enjoy benefitting from your experiences."

Steven gives an internal start. Golden lord! He's almost certain that could be another name for Pelor. This could be fascinating! How the elves would view Pelor is something he's deeply intrigued by. "I look forward to it, a great deal!" he says, smiling to Clairchiare.

The rose-haired elf beams at Steven and says "Soon, then. Perhaps tomorrow after the Princes' morning ride?"

Aiden shrugs faintly at Rathskeliad, almost feeling that the green-haired elf is trying to pick him apart. It makes him uncomfortable. "I don't know that I can clarify it any more than that. It can be very difficult to become accustomed to a new culture, even if only for a short period. I think the more often one has to, the better one becomes at finding ways of coping with the newness."

Steven says, "Certainly! I look forward to it!"

Rathskeliad smiles at Aiden and says, "A most thoughtful response, Aiden. You seem well-adjusted to handling change with aplomb."

Aiden smiles. "I do okay. Thanks."

Steven glances briefly between Rathskeliad and Aiden. It bothers him a little that he's sensing this underlying tension building here.

The dinner conversation meanders a bit after that to trivial things, and after enough wine, remarkably, Clairchiare begins to poke subtle fun at both Seodil and Rathskeliad-- both of whom appear to take it in stride and poke right back, taking the pressure off the Grey Worlders to converse. At length, however, dinner is concluded and those who do not sleep in this suite walk off together companionably after thanking their hosts once more. The Winter contingent, freed from cleaning up by magically vanishing dishes, is free to head to bed.

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