Date: August 7, 2000 (Aether: November 26, 3906)
Place: Beach - Haven
Cast: Amipal, Asadel, Brighid, Faanshi, Grace, Jerrod, Jessop, Keegan, Madelyne, Niamh, Roxana, Safiyyah, Sumai, Thalia
Scene: Sylvan followers of the Trickster, Ferrin, strike during the Varati festival known as "Invoking the Flame." The ceremony is meant to be serious, and give thanks for Ashur Masad's eternal light, but some mysterious powder spread by the Sylvans prompts a much more festive air.

Beach - Haven:
      Soft sands from years of gentle ocean currents greet the feet of those who explore the expanse of beach that leads from the streets of Haven to the edges of ocean. The hushed roar of the waves can be heard, a lulling sound to the attentive ear. The sand stretches out for about a quarter of a mile and allows for plenty of space for pursuits of leisure. Depending upon the time, you may be graced by the awe-striking sunset, the peaceful glow of the moon, or the comforting rays of the midday sun. Several ocean birds fly overhead as if frolicking around and playing in the air, occasionally swooping down towards the ocean surface to retrieve a tasty morsel.
      The ocean itself seems to be calm and relaxing near the shore for several hundred feet before the sands slope harshly and drop. There, the water is safe only for experienced swimmers and boaters. There is a small path that leads towards the town that is paved with sand and lined on either side by flowers.

Firewood:
      Green pine makes up the center of this massive construction, half of a tree shorn at mid-trunk to lend support to the rest of the pile. Around it, deadwood and the shorn tree's branches are laid in a conical-shape so that a massive pinnacle of deadwood rises from the sands simply waiting for a spark to set it alight.

In the midst of such a crowd, one would hardly expect two white-robed Healers of Delphi would cause much notice. One is reed-thin, pale, and bears a sullen expression. The other, at the youth's side, is a large hulk of a man. Varati in nature and wearing an expression that is simply... nothing. Acolyte Jessop and his escort have arrived, though the Atlantean does not proceed as close to the dry kindling as Adept Rashid.

It is just moments before sunset, the air turning slightly chilly as the gathering is so close to the water. The Estrel bin Mazat offers a respectful bow to the Maharani before turning to address those gathered, his arms upraised for quiet. Bespectacled eyes take in the surroundings as well as the large log pile before him... the one that will be lit first with the ceremonial fire. Once relative silence is achieved, he begins to speak:

"Imphadi and Imphadas, the time has come to call the fires that will warm us through the cold of winter... to protect us from the darkness that grows and lengthens throughout the coldest of seasons."

Niamh's hands gesture to the setting sun as he invokes, his voice carrying over the gathered people, "O Khalid-Atar... Amir-Al... the Highest of High and Holiest of Holy... give us Your strength, Your light, Your warmth, and Your heat through this winter... this ice and snow, this cold and wind... so that once the days grow longer and your Father's light and heat is once more in the sky, we may continue our reverence and worship of You."

On the last word, the fire bursts to life. The Estrel then appears to throw something on the fire and, with a *whoosh*, the flames begin to burn a bright red. Once the color dies, something else is thrown to make the flames burn a bright blue... and then green. Finally, a twist of violet goes into the night sky. Attending members of other varas are then invited to add their own flame to the great bonfire, whether it be by magical or conventional means.

Asadel stalks slowly toward the crowd, his bulky form moving slowly, muscles rippling under his clothing his obsidian eyes scan the crowd, a little of the habitual tension he finds amidst the kafir fading amongst so many of his own kind.

Arriving with a small congregation of folks are the Messala, led by their monstrously large Warlord in his silver and navy enameled armor. Glittering just a little in the fading light of the night, Sumai is followed by five fully armed and armored guardsmen and seems to have brought a guest along as well. A woman, about average size for a Varati lady, walks with him. He halts near the rear of the crowd so that he doesn't get involved in any messiness that may happen amidst any of the folk nearby.

Safiyyah follows in the steps of the Warlord of Messala, hands wrapped around a pendant at her neck as if it were an anchor to the world. She hums softly to herself, eyes downcast. She seems to see very little of the beach and gathering, simply keeping to her path with a slow, swaying walk.

From the eastern edge of the beach, creeping slowly through the night, comes a lithe young figure wearing a the mask of the fox. Stealthy and inconspicuous, she moves closer to the festivities.

Thalia quietly watches Niamh from within her circle of Agni-Haidar, but does not venture forward to add her offering to the fire. Instead, she hands whatever she has brought to Kaimakam Amipal, allowing him to venture forth into unsafe territory.

Standing in the shadows of the beach, Jerrod watched the proceedings, curious but not wanting to have to be polite and kiss someone's feet. He'd heard from a cousin that his brother had gone to help gather the wood and so he wanted to know what for.

Roxana, to one side of the Maharani, watches the ceremony. She is here as Lady-In-Waiting rather than worshiper, as anyone who knows her reputation will have guessed. The display, while interesting and rather pretty, is not for her the moving testament that it is for others. She watches and waits.

What's the worst thing about Varati women? All those cursed veils. Jessop can't get a good look at any of the pretty girls. Bored to tears, he kicks at a rock in the sand while he waits for Rashid to do his thing. He wouldn't have come out at all, except life in the Citadel is boring enough to make him suicidal. Blue eyes watch the bulky Adept move closer to the fire, the man's offering securely gripped in broad, dusky hands.

As the fire ignites and rushes skyward, Safiyyah gasps aloud with pleasure, dropping the pendant to fall back against her chest as she claps gleefully at the brilliant display of flame, light and color. She steps forward, one hand outstretched towards the column.

A twin pair of cats slink from shadow to shadow from the far western end of the beach, figures in masks again and skilled in stealth. They creep upon the edges of the crowd, remaining some distance back and watching the proceedings through the dark, angular holes through which gem-green eyes glitter.

The huge silver gauntlet comes forth to gently take Safiyyah's hand in his hand, tugging it back to its place firmly but not forcibly. "Calm, imphada. We are here to watch this night, not partake. That is for the Atarvani," Sumai says in his strong, powerful voice as he carefully holds her like a fragile piece of china for a moment and watches her carefully to make sure she understands.

Brighid looks upward at the column of smoke made by the igniting of the pile, and she nods as though speaking with it. Heeding silent commands, she moves stealthily through the crowd, face downcast as flame-red hair trails out behind her. Large, wild eyes glance up from place to place, alighting on a face. A face surrounded by forty armed Agni-Haidar. But Brighid stares at the woman momentarily, and nods her head. Standing back behind the group, she inconspicuously sinks a hand into her light blouse, and removing it, blows into the palm. Tiny white particles of some dust waft into the air. Tasteless, scentless, and full of fun, the fungi makes its slow way toward Thalia, through her armed men.

Note: Those who breathed in the powder felt: Your teeth tingle. All along your skin, tiny electric currents of pleasure dance about at random, almost tickling. Your head feels heavy, yet the rest of you is light, so light it feels as if you might float away but for the careful weight of your cranium holding you to the earth. Your whole body is filled with a warm, pleasant sensation and it seems like it would be... so easy to do all those things you would never allow yourself to do in normal circumstances because... you just feel so good and nothing else matters.

As the others make their offerings, the Estrel stands back, keeping an eye on the bonfire as well as those who have gathered for it. Reaching into a hidden pocket, Niamh pulls out a small scroll, his own offering to the fire. With ease, he takes the step or two needed back to the climbing flames to drop the scroll into it. A murmured prayer is also given before his attention goes back to the others.

Tugged to a halt by an insistent hand, Safiyyah stops and half turns from the flame. She regards Sumai with open confusion, "But... imphadi... it Calls..." She turns back to stare at the flames with open longing, dark eyes filled with dancing color, as if she could drink it in.

Jerrod watches the bonfire burn, stretching as he suddenly realizes just how tired he is.

At the edge of the crowd, one cat elbows another with a sense of glee. They slip up upon one Varati at the edge of the crowd, and with a flick of something in the darkness, glittering dust falls down around Jerrod. The shadows are instantly gone even before the cloud envelops its intended target.

The flames are reflected in Asadel's obsidian eyes, that move upwards to watch the passage of colors; a silent prayer on his lips, hoping for good fortune in the lean months ahead.

The heat of the fire is enough to disturb the wind, and a breeze picks up quickly, feeding the flame from beneath, and around. Crimson hair waves forward as Brighid looses some dust into the breeze, and after two slow handfuls, she backs away from those assembled nearby.

Now that he has reached the fire, Jessop's escort bows his head in reverence before a deft toss lands his miniature scroll into the flaming kindling. Rashid only pauses to watch the fine paper curl and blacken before he offers a short bow of reverence, first to the Maharani and then a deep nod to the Estrel bin Mazat, even if the gestures go unnoticed. Then he begins to back away to allow others their chance.

Niamh offers a nod in return to Adept Rashid... he is glad the man was able to come to the festival. They had spoken earlier at one of the prayer sessions, and the Adept was concerned about his charge. Bespectacled eyes take in the Atlantean, perhaps amused that the 'charge' was made to attend. Those same eyes then rake over the crowd, landing on the warlord of Messala; perhaps wondering why none of his are contributing.

The Agni-Haidar on the outer perimeter eye Brighid suspiciously as she blows something in the direction of their charge. Before the female can completely depart the area, two Agni-Haidar leave Thalia's entourage and begin to move after her, obviously with the intention of detaining her. Meanwhile, the Queen-Maharani has not noticed that anything unusual has occurred, and appears unaffected, though the remaining Agni-Haidar about her begin to look irritable.

Jerrod coughs and sneezes as the dust settles in.

Roxana's veil, silken as it is, protects her mouth and nose from the smoke that eddies briefly towards her. It may also protect her from the spores that are blowing towards the Maharani and therefore herself -- but since she knows nothing of Brighid's actions, she cannot know to pull it closer about her face.

In the evening light, many go unnoticed on the edges of the gathered Varati. Another such is like one of the flame, herself, her wings painted with every hue seen in the bonfire and flickering in dull echo of its light. Grace lands on the edges of the crowd, her usual piratical garb put aside for a more flamboyant costume of tattered shreds of cloth, like feathers that fall around her in fanciful array.

For a moment, the fire stills and then a tongue rises up, licking towards the gathered of Clan Messala like some great finger reaching out to tap lightly upon the shoulder. A flicker, no more, but one drawn as if by a magnet out of the upward rush of flame to stretch where no flame would otherwise go, and then subside once more back into the bright dance.

In this veritable sea of aches and pains, Rashid has his healing empathy tightly sealed away. He would soon go mad if he allowed himself to feel everything around him. Thus, any irritation from the spores that is caused goes unnoticed as he begins to return to his charge. And though Jessop is watching the crowd -- having nothing else to do -- he doesn't seem to notice either. He's still much too busy trying to see if there are any unveiled Varati ladies about in the area. Or any ladies near him at all. But something tells him he won't be lucky tonight.

Ever vigilant, Brighid's jade eyes flicker from side to side as she moves, looking for any sign of parallel movement, or anyone coming near her. Much time spent picking pockets and slashing purses in the Rialto seems to have honed this skill, and so it is that she lifts her hand from her blouse once more to blow dust about her, leaving quickly so that the spores might spread, affecting any that come after her.

Silent as the wind, and hidden by the roaring rush of the bonfire, Grace slips up on the edge of the crowd as well. Head covered in a mask of her own shed plumage, she is the very visage of a phoenix, risen from the ashes. A quick puff on an outstretched hand, and one more Varati is enveloped in powdery white dust and the winged girl slips quickly away from Asadel, hopefully before she can be noticed.

Thalia decides to take the moment and seat herself on the sand, basking in the warmth and light of the fire.

The huge form that is Sumai, towering over even most of his Varati brethren near the rear of the crowds, watches the fire come and seems unimpressed. Some of his men jump a little and tug at weapons on their belts or roll crossbows in their hands carefully. "Calm yourself," their master's vast, rumbling voice says as he looks down at the smaller guest with him and clucks his tongue a bit before he leans near to speak to her quietly.

Jerrod shakes his head and glares at the flames, as if angry. He picks up a stick and marches towards the flame, brandishing the stick as if ready to hit it.

The Estrel moves as if to control the sudden tongue of flame should it get out of hand, but it subsided before he must do so. A look goes to Sumai... did he do such a thing? And if not, who did? Niamh seems both curious and displeased... if any was in the way of that flame, they would have been easily burned. After a moment's thought, he makes his way towards the warlord of Clam Messala, his bright haik whipping in the brief breeze that is called from the water. "Namaste, Imphadi... I did not see you make your contribution to this festival." He doesn't seem to wish to be particularly diplomatic tonight, it seems.

Roxana kneels as the Maharani sits, and several of the other Ladies do the same. Firelight is reflected from many pairs of eyes, all well-bred and perfect, except for one. Roxana's pale violet orb is matched for once with the doe-like brown in the reflection of the firelight, making her look like any other Kshatri maiden as she watches the celebration.

Twin shadows still slink silently around the edge of the crowd. One can almost hear laughter as one of the two elbows the other and they move on, inching through the flickering shadows.

Safiyyah's hand is outstretched again at that lick of flame, as if to meet its sudden insurgence into the darkness. She looks startled as Sumai speaks quietly in her ear and then frowns. "But, Imphadi, should we not partake of the Flame?" She clutches at the pendant at her throat again. "It is only right..."

Sumai stands so that he towers over the Estrel, though he doesn't appear to be inflicting any open manner of intimidation on the man. "Ah, my contribution was to guard the workers who gathered our material; it was not so easy a task as you would have thought this year," Sumai's rumbling voice replies to the Estrel with a dip of his head, "It is a glorious fire, imphadi. You should enjoy it while it lasts -- the Maharani certainly appears content with your efforts."

Thalia sits on the sand with her legs akimbo. She leans back on the palms of her hands, paying only slight heed to the words of the Warlord and the Estrel by the fire. Upon hearing mention of her name, she waves cheerily to Niamh and Sumai.

With a sudden shriek, the two 'cats' are darting through the crowd at breakneck pace. Puffs of white dust explode from pipes both carry, blown at any near enough to be caught within the quickly-growing small clouds. Several Varati draw back, coughing in reaction before the pair runs past the fire, Estrel and gathered Messala all at once, casting their 'gift' into the wind so that it drifts back around that small gathering in a swiftly-fading fog. And then the two are gone into the shadows again, racing down the beach as fast as they can possibly run and leaving only footprints in the sand, behind.

The Estrel is not all that shorter than the Warlord, just differently built. "I believe you misunderstand me, Imphadi. The festival is to ask the Amir-al for his protection. It is customary that all... loyal... followers of Him make an offering. The guarding of the wood is indeed a kindness, but it should be construed as your duty to him... not as a sacrifice." Is he perhaps fishing to see where the Warlord's loyalty lies? Waving the sudden dust away, Niamh awaits an answer, arching an eyebrow at the Maharani's casual greeting.

Brighid snickers as her companions break the silence of the ceremony to lend the air of Ferrin's madness to this ceremony. Walking silently on the edge of her feet, she moves fluidly through the crowd, leaving faint clouds of clear-whitish goodness in her wake.

Jerrod also sits down, tossing little bugs into the fire as he stares into it.

Roxana sees the clouds of dust, and leans over to whisper something to the Maharani even as she holds her veil to her face.

Asadel's nostrils flare as the white powder disturbs his sinuses; fortunately perhaps for him, he sneezes, dislodging much of it but not all. The stony impassivity of his face starts to fade slowly.

Thalia asks Roxana loudly, "Dust? What dust? From the fire?"

It isn't terribly long before Amipal is apprised of the mysterious behavior taking place on the fringes of the gathering; the news arrives silently, by way of gesture, but the man's starless eyes are directed to the darkening distance where two of his own are slowly stalking the Sylvan, Brighid. After speaking softly to a nearby guardsman, he detaches himself from the Queen-Maharani's side, moving at an easy pace out through the crowd. The shrieking 'cats,' however, make him pause and turn; he watches the pair spread dust and disappear with an expression of grim distaste, then wheels and makes his way swiftly back to the Maharani's side, lifting a fist into the air as he does. The pair following Brighid break off their pursuit.

Roxana drops all pretense of subtlety, but still speaks softly. "The dust that is turning the air white, Maharani. The dust those cats are spreading. I do not know what it is."

Lifting an eyebrow at Niamh's words, the Warlord looks at him. "And, what, pray tell, is it that you think I should be sacrificing? My service is not enough? Glories routed in his name?" his deep voice says to the man with a frown crossing his face and his eyes narrowing behind the plate helm. "I gave my life to the Amir-al long ago; it is his place alone to question my duties and faith," the huge man says as his guards shift around and begin to get a bit more fidgety. "If you will pardon me, I am here to watch the festivities, not discuss politicking." Sumai looks at Safiyyah and nods a little bit. "But you need to be careful, now shush for a few minutes."

Shush?! Safiyyah looks stung... and then sulky. She huffs and then steps back, leaving the warlord to his discussion with the Estrel; not that either position holds much meaning in her fogged mind. Instead, the fire beckons once more. She breathes even deeper the second time and suddenly sighs happily. The tall woman steps over to kiss one of the Messala guards affectionately on the cheek and then she sits down, listing to one side and staring intently into the flames.

Keegan walks down the winding path from Haven and steps onto the beach.

Niamh's eyes narrow at the Warlord's words... seems that they're stored in his memory, but... the waving Thalia seems to catch his attention even more. He blinks a few times, before beginning a slow smirk as well as a cross towards her. Surely the Agni-Haidar will let him through... he's Estrel and Nabi after all. Not even a 'pardon me' has been muttered to Sumai as he leaves.

Perhaps fortunately for his honor, Asadel seems to share Safiyyah's fascination with the fire, obsidian eyes widening further as he stares into its depths; who knows what he could be seeing therein.

By the time Amipal returns to the Maharani's side, the other Agni-Haidar are already drifting quietly out of the crowd, arranging themselves as best they can in loose formation. The Kaimakam drops to one knee by the winged woman, intoning a soft, "We're leaving, your majesty."

The beach is a strange sight. Varati gather around the leaping flames of the bonfire, but there is an odd flavor to the celebration. While many seem to be taking the ceremony in a proper, respectful manner, a goodly number of the rest are starting to laugh and lounge. And a very few mutter to themselves and stare off into space as if watching... something. But there is nothing to be seen.

Thalia blinks a few times at Roxana as if her brain is too slow to process the words that her Lady-in-Waiting is saying. Finally, her face takes on a thoughtful look. "Very well, I will no longer breathe the air, Imphada Roxana." Unfortunately, it would appear that this is not a logical nor feasible option, thus she latches onto Amipal's words once she lets go of her held breath. "We are? Why?"

Faanshi walks down the winding path from Haven and steps onto the beach.

Jerrod also stares into the flames, tossing a bug or two into the fire as he stares intently into the fire. Suddenly, he starts to talk to the fire, and then, suddenly, he yells, "I WILL NOT EAT THE BUG!" and turns away from the fire.

Asadel seems utterly absorbed by the fire, in fact, he starts to walk towards it, dusky arms held open as if to embrace a lover.

Roxana is in absolute accord with Amipal's decision and rises gracefully to her feet, catching the end of her sari in one hand and pressing it to her face.

What? She's leaving? Oh, no... not when he hasn't even spoken with her. Stepping behind the Kaimakam, Niamh places a hand on the Agni-Haidar's shoulder with an affable smile, "The festival has just begun." In fact, he moves to offer the Maharani his arm, "Your Highness, would you care for a stroll down the beach?" His eyes are fixed on her...

They probably will not want her among them, Faanshi thinks to herself -- but still, there's an innocent, hopeful little girl lurking somewhere behind her veil, one who cannot help but at least try to sneak a peek at a party. "Invoking the Flame..." it's not quite the same thing as Holi, where revelry swamped Atesh-Gah and even gave a humble shudra a chance to shed her veil and lift her face to the eyes of men. But it's enough to draw Faanshi away from her usual treks through the city. She'll stop just long enough to see, at any rate... and daydream, where no one will notice her.

Jerrod suddenly jumps Asadel, tackling him to the ground. "She's MINE! all MINE!" he says coldly as he keeps Asadel away from his fiery love.

Note: Jerrod asked for and received this hallucination: The flames dance. They are lovely. Enchanting. Entrancing. They seem to beckon. To call. you can hear a voice within... and it is a sweet voice singing a hissing song that soothes your nerves and seems almost to have a physical touch -- like silk sliding over your skin. As you stare deep into the flames of the fire, a face swims into view. A woman's face. She is lovely beyond all surpassing, eyes glittering the blue of the heart of the flame, and hair as red as the fire itself. She reaches outwards to motion you closer, opening her arms to offer you the sweetest embrace...

Amipal takes hold of Thalia's arm, levering the Varati Queen rather unceremoniously to her feet. "We're leaving, your majesty, because I've said that we're leaving," he murmurs, in a soft voice that nonetheless brooks no backchat. Niamh's presence seems an annoyance that the Kaimakam is doing his civil best to overlook, under the circumstances. "I'm sorry, Estrel," he interjects. "Perhaps another time."

Edging his way out of the gathering of Messala, Keegan makes his way slowly toward the fire. One strong arm supports a small box of herbs and incenses, of the finest quality. Approaching the fire, he lifts the box before him, and murmurs a small prayer. Focusing upon the box, it begins to crack and bubble, finally taking flame in the young man's hand before being tossed into the fire. A sweet smoke wafts its way toward the heavens soon, bearing prayers aloft.

Asadel doesn't even seem to notice he has fallen to the ground, his large bulk crashing unceremoniously into the sand.

Thalia blinks hazily at Niamh even as Amipal's superior strength moves her in the Agni-Haidar's desired direction. "Actually, Estrel," she corrects in a teacher-like tone, "my correct address is 'Maharani,' or 'your Majesty.' 'Highness' would be for a Princess, such as my daughter Oriane. I was actually coronated by Khalid, and thus am not a Highness, but a ruling Queen. Therefore, the proper form of address is your Majesty." Sweetness, gentleness, and the ability to disregard faint errors in etiquette as insignificant appears to have flown away from Thalia.

Niamh offers a rare, winning smile, "Truly, Imphadi, she would come to no harm with me." After all, he's Estrel and Nabi and all that good stuff. Want him to toss up a fireball to prove it? He continues to look into the Maharani's lovely, lovely eyes, "Your Majesty, I regret that we have not spent more time together..." Ooh, he loves it when she talks rough like that...

Safiyyah slips forward on hands and knees. The strange affairs with the Queen-Maharani serves well enough to draw attention, for the moment. To Keegan's feet, she crawls, and then sits back on her heels. As the box bubbles, burns and then slowly falls to ash, she reaches out to wind her fingers into the fire, pulling her hand out with flame licking around it. With a small smile, she makes a motion as if tucking this flamelet into her pouch and then looks up at Keegan with a warm expression, holding her now-extinguished fingers to him as if expecting a hand up. "An honorable offering, imphadi."

Jerrod suddenly stands, helping Asadel up. "Shall We both have her?" He asks, motioning to the fire and the woman he sees in there.

Roxana could not agree more with her Queen. To deny her proper title is to deny the Maharani, crowned by Khalid's own will. Khalid created her Queen, not Concubine, and thus she is due proper title. And besides, the Estrel's manner does not seem quite appropriate towards a married woman, especially not the wife of his God. Something is ringing warnings in Roxana's mind, and she doesn't like it one bit.

Asadel shakes his head, the dark locks of his hair snaking about as he tries to clear his mind, slowly levering his large bulk up. His calloused hands come over his face as he tries to work out what is happening.

Sumai's olive-brown eyes narrow as he watches the scenes unfold before him with a sneer of disdain and a frown coming onto his lips. "Akmed. Find those cats, if they won't come willingly... shoot them. Either way, use your discretion. Cover your face with silk like you would in the desert," he says in a growling and rumbling voice.

Akmed, the aforementioned guardsman, bobs his head once and takes a series of guards with him. All armed and armored heavily as they begin to cloak their faces with silk that is born at various laces upon their bodies.

Sumai turns and looks for his charge for a moment and releases a faint, irritated growl like an angry great cat before he spies her by Keegan.

Watching as the woman removes her hand from the fire, Keegan narrows dark eyes toward her. "It is the best our clan had to offer in incense and herbs." Bending down momentarily, he takes Safiyyah's hands and lifts them gently, enticing her to stand. No need to have her on the floor like a naraki in front of all these people.

Amipal surveys the smiling Estrel through narrowed eyes, the politeness of his expression waning by slow but evident degrees. "Doubtless, Estrel, she would be safe with you," he returns, granting the point without any serious conviction behind it. "Fortunately for both of us, that isn't your concern." He throws out an open palm, splayed parallel to the ground, and the Agni-Haidar complement shifts into motion towards the city proper; the Kaimakam himself starts walking, carrying the Queen-Maharani along behind.

Thalia chirps back at Niamh in a reversal of her earlier stern voice, "Oh, yes, Estrel. You should visit more often. Come to Atesh-Gah. We'll do tea. I put on a lovely tea with crumpets and sweet chocolates. The most delightful cream puffs come from the kitchen. They just melt in your mouth." She looks over at Roxana. "Don't you love the cream puffs, Imphada? Oh and the cakes." She pats Amipal on the arm like a grandmother might pat the arm of her grandchild. "Oh, let's stop at the Rialto on the way home and get some chocolate cakes, hmmm? They would go so nice with a dark tea."

Jerrod shrugs and starts to walk towards the Estrel, the Maharani and Roxana. Maybe one of them'll dance with him?

Safiyyah rises almost gracefully, her hand within Keegan's as she gathers herself to her feet. The smile remains curving her lips gently and she nods, "You do yourself, and your clan, much honor, imphadi." She touches his cheek in an affectionate gesture and then turns from the fire and the heat of it to look for the other person that 'ought' to be there. Spying Sumai, she lifts her free hand to him.

Niamh actually pouts as Thalia is led away. "I shall, Your Majesty!" Well, now that she's gone, nothing left to do but juggle small fireballs. Ah, such is life.

Faanshi keeps herself a fair distance away from the gathered celebrants, and so she and her dog are out of easy conversational range. But the shudra maiden is not so far away that she cannot catch glimpses of what appear to be... strange actions going on. There's her mistress, unmistakable with the snowy wings that grace her shoulderblades, even more unmistakable surrounded by her Lions of Fire... but her Lions of Fire appear disgruntled, if the swift motions of the man who can only be her Kaimakam are any indication.

The shudra frowns behind her veil, then lowers a hand to Kosha, whistling softly to him, calling the dog to follow her as Faanshi ponders backing away the way she'd come. Disgruntled Agni-Haidar, regardless of what else is going on on the beach, are enough to give the shudra maiden significant pause. No, nothing to see here. Don't mind the halfbreed as she goes about her business...

Keegan nods toward Safiyyah, inclining his head at her words. "Thank you, Imphada. You do me great kindness with your words." Escorting her back toward Sumai, and the rest of Messala, he aims dark orbs toward his brother. Why is this woman outside? Where others can see?

Roxana turns to join the Maharani and Agni-Haidar as they prepare to leave. She stays at the Queen's elbow, looking back at all the odd behavior with a worried crease between her brows. Quietly, she comments, "I do not like this one bit, Honored Kaimakam." There is something in the air beyond the fungus, and it worries her. She is a virgin yet, but some of the comments from the gathered Varati have worried her deeply. Best by far to be out of the way -- after all, a rape is the fault of the woman, in Varati society.

The Phoenix rises from the ashes... or rather, from the shadows. Cocky grin showing from beneath carved and wooden hooked-bill. From within the holes of her mask, the girl clearly has the temerity to wink broadly at Faanshi before she inhales and then delicately blows the powder from her palm into the woman's face. She whirls away in a sudden flash of light and feather, firelight glowing off of warm-dyed tones of the same shade.

Thalia waves cheerily to Faanshi as she spies the halfbreed. "I'll see you at home, sweetie," she calls out. "You and Kosha can come have some cream puffs." Her words drift along the sands as she is hauled up the slope toward the streets of Haven by Amipal.

Jerrod changes his mind and walks towards Faanshi, offering her a hand. "Can I have this dance, Domina?" he asks, "Your wings are like grapes and your lips like sausages!" He smiles cheerfully.

Kosha whips around in startlement at the figure that seems to appear from out of nowhere -- but his outburst of barking proves more or less needless as the disguised figure scampers off the way it had come.

Faanshi begins to cough behind her veil, lifting a hand to her head. Ushas, what...? Thalia's words from somewhere far away make her blink in that direction, and then the girl and her startled hound both whirl about again as Jerrod calls out to her. All right... it's official. This is strange. "I... think not, Imphadi," she blurts, as earnestly as possible, starting to back away forever. Holy Mother, is she getting ill?

Roxana blanches, as much as is possible for a dark-skinned Varati. Faanshi is here, with him bearing down upon her? The Healer may not be Kshatri, but Roxana wouldn't wish Jerrod on the lowest cess-pit slave.

As the juggled fireballs help light up other parts of the beach, the Estrel catches sight of more wings. Ooh! The flames disappear as he makes his way over to the half-hidden Grace, "Excuse me, but I couldn't help notice how your wings seem to shimmer..." Near-black eyes are pools of admiration as he gazes at her. Odd for a Varati to say, isn't it?

The fox makes its way quickly through the crowd, reaching one end and doubling back, as though it were all planned. A silent breath launches more dust into the air, silent and invisible, it spreads like the plague upon the wind, with much better results. Brighid smiles to herself, knowing that tonight she does the work of Ferrin.

Amipal settles into a steady pace once Thalia seems to be cooperating with his 'suggestion' of departure; the sizable movement of men and attendants isn't rushed, but it is definitely an exodus, and it is steadily leaving the jubilant gathering behind. "The woodland folk are about some mischief," the man murmurs in response to Roxana's soft words. "We can only hope that there is little malice in the affair."

Safiyyah allows herself to be led with docile grace, flowing up to Sumai on Keegan's hand. She laughs softly and continues that sinuous move right up to the warlord, leaning her head on his breastplate. "Ah, imphadi. It is a shame... such a shame.." She pats his chest -- or rather the smooth curve of metal absently with her free hand, still forgetting the other in Keegan's grip.

Jerrod is Kshatri! He's... ah.. Jerrod d'Harmal al'Gul! So Naa! He can dance with anyone he wants! And he walks over to the dog and offers him a bug.

The flash of another masked face, a rabbit, within the crowd elicits a quick gasp as dust is blown into the face of a woman. Then, as if never there, the form fades back into the crowd, toward the outer edge of darkness.

The phoenix blinks. Twice. She tilts her head to look up into Niamh's face with a sudden tremble from head to toe and then a bright, ringing laugh. She whirls, back to the Estrel and wings outspread in all their dyed glory. With the look of a coquette even with the mask, she peers back over her shoulder and calls, "D' you like?"

Roxana's veil and silken sari evade her grasp for a moment and she breathes in, then coughs. She can feel her mind trickling out between her ears, and she only caught the tail edges of a cloud. Trained in herbalism, and having undergone certain rituals with mind-altering substances involved, Roxana tries to hang on to what is left of herself with all her might, suddenly leaning heavily on the shoulder of one of the Maharani's Agni-Haidar as she fumbles her silken sari back upwards towards her mouth and nose.

Thalia chirps like a canary, having attached herself to the last word in Amipal's speech, "Affairs, now there is something the Empyreans do well. There is always something to gossip about. Who is sleeping with who and vice versa. Now, this concubine system really limits the amount of gossip because you have one man and many women and it is all condoned. How can it be illicit if is condoned? Really, women should be allowed to have male harems. It would only be fair and just."

Niamh reaches out to bury his hands in the bright plumage, "Shall I show you how much?" is breathed into those glorious feathers. A phoenix... how appropriate. He could drown in these feathers right now and die a happy man.

Looking at Keegan and Safiyyah as they grow nearer. "Keegan keep her with the guardsmen, be gentle. I think she likes you right now in any case," Sumai's huge voice says as he looks around the beach and sees the halfbreed and motions to a guardsman who lifts up a crossbow questioningly, and Sumai shakes his head a moment before he moves towards Faanshi. "Come here, girl," he says commanding her as he looks around at the people nearby. "Keegan, get ready to leave. I've had enough of this... fiasco," he says in a snarling voice and narrowing eyes which flicker to life with an orange-red glow.

The very air seems electrified with courage and vigor, and fear is almost forgotten. So intoxicated upon this foreign courage, a woman lifts her veil, in public, to land a kiss upon the face of a stranger. Gasps emit almost immediately, but the woman simply smiles as if life could not be better. Free of all restrictions at last, she takes another deep breath, and moves off to find another lucky victim for her affections.

The bird-woman shrieks and then giggles, whirling back about, wings flipping behind her now to settle those feathers back into place. She wiggles one finger at the forward man, fingertip going tick-tock, back-and-forth in front of her beaked mask. "Now, now, now. Y' gotta rub 'em th' right way 'r they get all messed up."

Nodding to his brother and warlord, Keegan firms his grasp upon Safiyyah's hand, and remains at her side. A brief grin accompanies the revelation of her apparent feelings at the moment, but seriousness takes over once more. "Yes, Sumai," come practiced words.

It's official. This is not only strange, it is downright alarming. Even as Kosha growls unsurely at Jerrod, not at all sure what to make of the man's thrusting a wriggling insect at him, Faanshi staggers back several steps. If there is any emotion alien to the young shudra, it is utmost euphoria, and her inner being revolts at the strange sensations trying to flood her system. Her magic roils awake as well, beginning to disorient her, and only when Sumai's command cuts through her growing daze does she snap up her head. Her eyes are wide and frightened above her veil.

Safiyyah rolls off Sumai's breastplate with a heavy sigh. She glances around and asks with much disappointment audible in her voice, "Must we? It seems... so happy. It has been a long time since... everyone was happy."

Niamh scowls a bit, like a chastised child, but then holds out his hand. "Show me, then..." Indeed, he seems quite eager to learn. "Such wings have always fascinated me..." He stares at the brightly dyed feathers, his eyes beginning to unfocus a bit. Oh, he is quite stoned... most assuredly for the first time in his life.

Jerrod pouts at the dog. "Aww!" he says before staring at Faanshi. "You know what?" He asks, "I have healing magic too!" He crows!

Below the beak, a lip is chewed in contemplation, and then the phoenix sidles up and takes Niamh's hand, turning to place it on her wing and stroke from curve to tip. "This way, y'see. Alla feathers go tha' way.. no' the other." She grins up into the Estrel's face with wicked delight.

Roxana taps Amipal's shoulder, remembering what she was going to say before the spores hit. "Kaimakam -- Faanshi?" She points back towards the fire with one thumb. Not exactly graceful, but it gets the meaning across.

The fox moves quickly, covering ground she has yet to visit. She cannot be certain where her fellow Sylvans hit, so she takes the methodical approach. Do it all over again. After a few good puffs, Brighid is content in the knowledge that some sections were sprinkled three times. Quite enough. Making her stealthy way backwards, she meanders her way up into the dunes.

Amipal follows Roxana's serviceable gesture towards the distant shudra, and his already dark expression darkens even further; a soft sigh issues from between his lips. Taking rough hold of the nearest Agni-Haidar, he murmurs, "Take Queen Joy here back to Atesh-Gah. Do not... let's be clear, do not... stop and wait for me." His exasperated gaze returns to Roxana long enough for the man to say, "I'll see what she's about."

Niamh fondles the wing, reveling in the texture that just seems heightened by the dust he inhaled. In fact, he even bends down to bury his face in the feathers, breathing in their wonderful scent... their brush against his skin... If he is not stopped, he might try and induce the phoenix to take a long walk behind some dunes...

Keegan raises an uneasy eyebrow at the sights around him. Did that woman just remove her veil? In public? And what is that priest doing up there? Blinking, he battles the disbelief and casts a rather uncomfortable glance in his older brother's direction.

Roxana decides that Amipal is the person to be near. She regains her feet enough to reclaim her weight from the Agni-Haidar who was supporting it. Without a dose of the dust for a short while, she is becoming acclimatized, and while she cannot walk in a precisely straight line, she can do a passable impression. Why she has fixed her attention on Amipal is anyone's guess, but she is more concerned with the return of bodily functions than keeping her mind together at the moment, so little things float free of control.

Sumai looks back at Keegan. "I told you to take the guards and Safiyyah and go. This place is a mess and the ritual has been destroyed in any case," he says to the smaller, younger Messala lord in his commanding tone of voice. He takes one guard with him and walks directly towards Faanshi without any further regard for these happenings. "Faanshi, come here," he says again to the small shudra in a firmer tone of voice, his eyes flickering again for a moment as he and his guardsman walk closer to the shudra.

Shocking. Absolutely shocking. And... the bird-woman does nothing to stop it. If anything, she leans a little into the touch, looking up at Niamh with a distinctly avian tilt to her head. Predatory, even. The face, however, seems a bit of a startling move and she stumbles, forestalling a headlong sprawl on the sand by winding her hands into Niamh's robes. That done, the phoenix does a credible imitation of a fish, mouth gaping open under the mask and eyes wide. "Ah.. righ'."

Nodding once more to his warlord, Keegan takes the hand of Safiyyah, and with the company of five armed guards, begins his trek back to Atesh-Gah. Something is indeed amiss here, and black eyes flicker from side to side to determine just what it is before leaving.

Thalia stops moving the minute Amipal lets go of her arm. She starts on a new diatribe. "And what is it with rotten tomatoes?" Obviously, the Queen-Maharani is experiences some free association within the confines of her brain. "Why can't people be inventive and throw diamonds or rubies? They'd make much better long range projectiles, being small and compact. And, glitter, they would certainly glitter in the air."

The Agni-Haidar taking over for Kaimakam Amipal looks at Thalia in consternation for a moment as the procession grinds to a halt, but grabs her by the arm. The cavalcade once again churns into motion.

Safiyyah seems about to protest again, but she allows Keegan to draw her away from the excitement with a resigned sigh, disappearing along with the rest of the Messala guard sent along as they head around a curve of the path back into Haven proper.

Jerrod looks at Faanshi. "Dog," he barks. "Dog. You Go when your master calls, dog!" he says as if he hates the fact.

Jerrod's chirpy announcement of his magic goes primarily unnoticed by Faanshi -- for the Warlord's abrupt shadow falling across her has far greater command upon her attention. Kosha gives Sumai a growl, for that matter, but it's a far less certain one... for Faanshi's gaze shoots up the full foot and a half to Sumai's dark visage. Her eyes go round, her gaze strange, and for a fraction of an instant she can be heard to croak, "L-Lyre?" Then she shakes her head violently, rubbing a hand across her eyes and stumbling in Sumai's direction, rasping pleadingly, "Imphadi... I... I am ill..."

Niamh moves to help the winged one up, wrapping one arm about her waist so he can continue to support her. Leaning close, he all but whispers, "Do you keep the mask on all the time, bright phoenix?" There is a hunger in those eyes that not even the glass of the spectacles can hide. Perhaps that dust destroyed all of his inhibitions...

Or perhaps he just needed a little shove in the right direction.

Amipal is weaving back across the beach -- along with Roxana, although this seems not to be an issue -- when Sumai closes with the shudra. The Kaimakam drifts to a halt, casting a sidelong glance at his companion. "Messala has her," he observes, as comforted by the fact as he can reasonably be, under the circumstances. "We're finished here, Imphada." His dark gaze goes to the receding formation of Atar's Lions.

Thin fingers remain twined in Niamh's robes as if unable to loose themselves of their own will. The phoenix hesitates and then whispers back in much the same tone, trying to peer past the glass and into they eyes beyond, "We all wear masks o' one sort 'r another."

"No, Faanshi, you are poisoned," Sumai says very simply as he reaches down to her and offers her the gauntlet of his hand. "Come with me and I will take you back to Atesh-Gah. I assume your dog will follow you wherever it is you go," the Warlord's deep voice says to her as he watches those around him with a narrowed, angry gaze, the wicked, barbed panzerhand on his other hand flexing tightly as though he's ready to cave in someone's head for just the wrong word. Hell, he just might. He's not got the best reputation amongst candala anyway.

Roxana has met Messala's Warlord herself, and doesn't doubt that Faanshi is fairly safe with him. "Let us follow the Maharani, then, Honored Kaimakam, and be away from this place." With that, she turns and attempts to follow the Maharani's entourage, staggering in the soft sand.

Thalia gives one last cheery wave to the crowd and shouts loudly, "Good night, everyone! Good night!" With that, her figure disappears behind a dune with the mass of black and crimson flowing after her like the incoming tide.

Thalia and her entourage disappear along the winding path back to Haven.

Jerrod shakes his head and sits down, his violet eyes clearing a little as his magic tries to clear his system of the vile dust.

Amipal settles a strong hand on Roxana's arm as she stumbles, keeping her from losing her footing on the shifting ground; moving at an easy pace -- now that his charge has cleared the area -- he escorts the Maharani's waiting-woman from the sands.

Asadel stirs weakly from his position by the fire. Getting up slowly, he looks faintly ashamed, moving quickly to distance himself from the others.

Roxana is certainly not dawdling as she leans gratefully upon Amipal's arm. Whatever it is in the air, she knows that she needs to get out of there swiftly.

Roxana, Amipal, Safiyyah, Keegan, and Asadel disappear along the winding path back to Haven.

Jerrod looks around in horror. What happened? Where are his sandals? Why is Estrel Niamh fooling around with a Empyrean-looking woman?

Poisoned? Ushas... Faanshi swallows and then regrets it, for though her veil has saved her from inhaling a fair amount of the dust in the air, some of it clings to the blue silk nevertheless. The maiden's hand seizes Sumai's with rather more strength than she normally exhibits -- the sort of strength a drowning girl might use to grab onto a sturdy branch floating in a raging river. Around her, Kosha whines as he circles her and the big warrior, and the sound of his distress prompts the healer girl into mumbling as though from a great distance, "He will follow..."

"Ahh, but masks must be removed some time or another." And as he speaks, his free hand moved to divest the phoenix of hers. But his hand pauses as an inner switch seems to click over. Blinking rapidly, Niamh then turns aside to sneeze... once... twice... three times. He is standing with a winged one... her fingers entwined in his clothes. Oh... if Varati skin showed blushes, his would be very, very red. Carefully, he tries to remove the gripping fingers, "I...Imph...Domina...ohhh, Atar."

Her hand clamps onto the steel gauntlet as he begins to tug her away from the beach, much like a father might lead his daughter away from a group of schoolyard bullies. "Come," Sumai says in a loud and powerful voice as he draws the small shudra off the sandy beach with him and allows the dog to follow at its own whim. The great-sized Warlord watches for anyone who might get in his way as he prepares to mash some faces in a not so friendly manner that Warlords are notorious for in these parts. Sometimes stereotypes are helpful.

Sumai and Faanshi disappear along winding path back to Haven.

Disappointment wars with relief, and the phoenix manages to unwind her talons from the front of the Estrel's garments. She steps back and reaches up to slowly pull the mask off her head, leaving pale-white hair to tumble in loose curls around her shoulders and leaving the delicate points of her ears too visible, standing up through the fine locks. Wordlessly, Grace pulls one long plume from the mask itself -- clearly one of her own pinfeathers -- and steps forward to tuck it into Niamh's hand. She pats his knuckles and then turns away to slip into the shadows without another thought, or another word.

Niamh presses a hand, the one without the feather, to his forehead, watching as the halfbreed moves away. What did he almost do? Slightly blurred eyes glance about the area, noticing others are blinking out of something... what just happened? Moving as swiftly as he can, he goes back to the bonfire to make sure nothing get out of hand there... maybe the memory of finding a winged one in his arms will fade. Another prayer is dashed into the fire, it seems.

It seems, after all that, after the fire blazed heavenwards and all gathered around to watch, that it is the Estrel left alone on the beach with the last embers of the bonfire dying down into a sullen red. Left, as the rest of the gathering turns and melts into the shadows, either having done so in the wild moments before, or prompted now by the Queen-Maharani and Warlord's distinctive actions. The wood cracks and pops, sending a few odd sparks into the dark air in counterpoint to the silence and the soft hiss of the waves on the sand.

FIN  

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