BZPRPG - Kentoku Archipelago

[Snelly]

IC: Arisaka

 

Arisaka had long since exchanges goodbyes with the tailor, and decided it was a good time to go mediate in the Yards, she did this often, in order to reflect on the three virtues.

 

So Arisaka sat on the end of the docks in a meditative position. Directing her thoughts to Zuto Nui, praying that the Great Spirit would get her through this Masquerade alive.

[Constructelf]

IC Ichi

"Where'd she run off to now..." I hadn't seen my sister ever since she had dropped off those fish crates in my restaurant. You never could tell what sort of mess she would be running into. I mean... Well... It's sorta hard to describe what sort of mess she'd get into, because each time, she'd get into a different mess. To be honest with... Whoever I'm talking to right now, I'm surprised she hasn't had her head lopped off by an angry Menti yet. Thank the Great Spirit for that, as much as I hate her.

 

Anyways, that could wait. What couldn't wait was the MASSIVE-no, really, M A S S I V E-amount of fish currently in the back room. What was Ni thinking? I know I am one of the best-if not THE best chef on the island, but seriously? Fish goes bad quickly, you know, and despite me being the awesome cook I am, there's only so much fish I can handle at one time. Even if I decided to salt them all, half of the load would go bad anyways. There was just TOO. MUCH. FISH!!!!!! And some of them were kinds I had never seen before! How in the Sister's names was I supposed to cook all this stuff in time, let alone make it TASTE GOOD while at it.

 

Finally, I admitted defeat. I just couldn't handle so much inventory. Thank goodness Ni had bothered to leave the water in the crates; they were going bad fast enough as is. I didn:'t want to think about what would happen if they were dry. Getting a flatbed cart, I put about half the crates of fish on and wheeled it out. Hopefully there would be a fisherwoman out there who would take all this excess inventory.

 

Hopefully.

[They]

IC: Eiyu Kwaiya

 

"Have you found any ties between our earlier, male driven society to the Eastern Island?" Kwaiya looked at Lorekeeper Gotsoko expectantly, as if somehow the old scholar was able to see through the truth in the orb on her staff. "We set out to learn about the foreigners and now we're delving into our history. I don't understand."

 

IC: Hogo Kamari

 

Organizing the security for a masquerade seemed simple at the outset, but by the end of the afternoon Kamari was at her wits end. First she had to implement a form of screening for attendees, only those with an invitation and their one guest were to be allowed in, and once the revelers had passed into the great Dragon Hall Kamari would have to keep them under watch for suspicious activity. It was her duty to Toroshu Noshima and a duty she would not fail. The Chōjo was hosting, and if anything were to befall the crown princess, her sister, or any other royal it would be a grave shame to clan Hogo. In the end Kamari managed to establish a sense of order in the plans. There would be guards at the entries, a few Hogo in disguise as revelers themselves, and Kamari herself would watch from the rafters while cloaked by her huna: nothing would happen without a Hogo response.

 

OOC: Okay, let's get this game rolling! WAHOO!

[Vezok's Friend]

OOC: Jam courtesy of the awesome Demitsorou, GSR, Ghosthands and myself.

 

IC:

The two Menti warriors had bid farewell to the chojo and then followed her suggestion. As Yumiwa had left, glances were exchanged and it was mentally agreed on to make some minor adjustments to their schedule - one of the luxuries of being at the top of the chain of command; there were more liberties. Of course, there were more responsibilities too, but Ayiwah decided they could wait until morning.

:Well then...shopping: Tazera mentally commented. Ayiwah slightly shook her head. :No, not tonight I think. The hour is late - and I know you’ve been itching for some shore leave, Taz. So, how about a trip to the fin?:

The fin was the colloquial name given to one of the establishments that was not too far from the yards but nestled between the rich and merchant districts of the city. Nobility rarely showed their face there - except for those among the Menti and Dashi of the armed forces, who often frequented it.

Tazera’s reply was preceded by a telepathic chuckle.

:You read my mind.:

:Oh I could have read it this time even without ideatalk. I know you too well, hon.: Aya replied with a chuckle as well as they turned and left the gardens. It was an uneventful and quiet walk. Upon entering the bar and restaurant, a few conversations died down as the lower ranked Dashi realized just who had just joined their company, but the commodore, loud enough for everyone to hear, just said: “As you were!” And then added: “One round for all on me.”

The response was a cheer from the crowd and quickly set the tone for the rest of the patrons. They weren’t here on any official business, just for a good time; and once the excitement of free drinks had died down, Aya and Taz had their valued privacy, sitting in a booth.

“Now then...thanks to my dear cousin, you still haven’t told me your thoughts on the new orders, Lt.” Ayiwah said. “What’s your opinion?”

Tazera took a draught from her mug, letting the warm barley-taste of the ale wash down her throat before answering.

“Well, it’s hard to say, isn’t it?” she said. “Seems to me that this ‘Mata Nui’ place is about as big an unknown as we’ve heard of for a very long time. Nobody knows how this voyage will turn out. If it’s all peace and diplomacy, then we’ll basically just be escorting the dignitaries. If it’s not...well, we’ll do what we do best, won’t we?”

She took another sip of her drink, then smiled a little.

“Heh. But I s’pose that whatever happens, we’ll see places no Dasaka’s ever seen before. Mata Nui’s a whole new world to us. Not a bad adventure, eh?”

“Not bad at all. New Island, new people, new ship...I have to admit, that last one has me pretty excited. To think the Rora would commission a submersible of that size with enough room for crew, and multiple nobles and envoys - whom we can not afford to underestimate, by the way - I have a feeling they will not all be Umbraline. You know how the politics of this all work. The Fursics will want in on this, along with others. It might be more than an escort - and we will need a crew that is up to it. The Rora gave us complete liberty for that, so I was thinking of a mixed crew.”

“Works for me.”

Tazera, as a sailor, had more common ground with even the Saihoko than the prim-and-proper courtiers of Sado, and was thus rather more comfortable around those of lower caste than they were. She knew that even the Commodore felt so too.

They continued to chat like this for quite a while, speculating about crew requirements in detail and bouncing off ideas from each other who to add to the list of dossiers. They each had a few drinks more, but just enough to not let it impair their judgement or sense of balance and then they decided to call it a night.

It was only a short walk to the entrance of the yards and like earlier that day in the gardens, the guards on duty greeted them and let them pass without any trouble. Ayiwah and Tazera made their way past the barracks. It was a bit of a misnomer, considering the shining crystal walls and amenities provided inside went beyond what qualified as ‘barracks’ to the commodore. One of the buildings was for the officers, where the two Menti had their quarters on land.

They bade each other goodnight, then Tazera retreated to her quarters and Ayiwah went upstairs to her rooms on the second floor. Even though the offer of a private residence had been made, Ayiwah had declined. She spent more time aboard the Yukanna then she did on dry land and just doing the math for the upkeep of a private home had discouraged her. Not that the empire could not afford it, it could do so very easily, but staffing and keeping a mansion in shape that was occupied only a few days a month just seemed unnecessary. Everything was left as it had been the last time she had been here, but cleaned and kept in neat shape, thanks to the Dashi housekeepers taking care of the officer’s quarters.

Ayiwah closed the door behind her and then began loosening the straps of her armor. It was comfortable to wear and never hindered her, but at the end of a long day such as this its weight became noticeable. She placed the pauldrons, chestplate and other pieces on a stand in one corner of the room, before slipping out of her coat, which went on a hanger. Free of her garments, she stretched her arms and shoulders and moved into the bath. One of the crystal wall-panels there served as a floor to ceiling mirror and she looked at herself for a few minutes, trying to picture herself in a fitting outfit for the chojo’s party. Each outfit her mind conjured up was sillier than the last, as far as she thought, and after a few minutes she gave up with a sigh.

Maybe I’ll just go like this and cover my face with a hood...bet they wouldn’t expect that.

She put the party out of her mind for now. Soraya would help her with that and if Yumiwa recommended her work she surely would be able to provide her with something approrpiate. She left the bathroom again and stepped outside on the balcony, to enjoy the view of Sado’s night skyline for a few minutes by herself, before finally going to sleep.

-----

Almost exactly six hours later, the Commodore and Tazera were awake and dressed again; and had had breakfast before meeting downstairs to start the day’s errands.

“Sleep well?” Ayiwah asked as they stepped outside and headed for a waiting cab. There was enough to do that Ayiwah had decided to cut down on walking time and called for one to pick them up.

“I did,” Tazera replied, adding mentally, :played a few rounds of Solitaire until my eyelids closed themselves.:

The Lieutenant was rather fond of card games as a way to pass the time.

“And you, ma’am?”

Ayiwah let her head rotate a bit. “Quite well as well.” she replied. :Hit the sheets like a dropped anchor. Didn’t even bother to crawl under the covers.:

:Ha! You still do that?: Tazera replied. :Remember back on the Hanisu - when you, of course, always had the top bunk - how I used to make sure I went to bed only after you had? I was scared you’d break clean through the bunk and crush me in my sleep!:

Their Ideatalk banter continued all the way from the Yards to the Markets, with the Dashi driver completely unaware of the silent conversation. The duo had long since perfected the skill of keeping completely straight faces.

They stepped out of the cab and into the hubbub of the commercial district. Passing lower-castes almost subconsciously made way for the two Menti in officers’ blue coats. Most Dasaka here went about their business single-mindedly, their gazes fixed ahead at their next destination. The Commodore and Lieutenant, however, spent most of their time at sea and were far less familiar with the market environs, and so their eyes roamed up, down and side-to-side as they took in the surrounding streets, stalls and storefronts, as much for curiosity as for direction.

After a few minutes’ walking, a collection of colourful apparel in one window caught Tazera’s eyes, and she pointed it out to Ayiwah. Confirming it to be the Plangori’s establishment, they headed quickly towards it.

------

It wasn’t polite to decline the chojo’s invitation to a party, so Xania was left without much of a choice. Even if she had one, her basic principles were forcing her to go there, and she would’ve liked it if it wasn’t for a “masquerade”.

Being a military officer, Xania branded most political “courtesy” as nonsense, something fitting only to those who indulge in intrigue and power, and thus avoided parties, meetings and other things that involved a lot of “genuine” smiling without meaning it. She didn’t want to be entangled in another meaningless web of power plays.

Yet, here she was, on her way to find herself a suiting outfit.

Making her way through the Markets, Xania was caught up in hectic thoughts. What fabric, what color, what shape? She never bothered with making herself look dapper or luxurious, but now it was all that she had on her mind.

As she was walking, Xania looked around her, trying to find something with her eyes that would spring her imagination, yet all she saw was different shades of blue. The Menti stopped, taking a deep breath and letting her think about it thoroughly and calmly.

“A masquerade”, she thought. “I will need to conceal my identity, but not only that. I need to show something new. Something I am not. Or maybe?..”

She looked over, briefly emerging from her ideas. A bright showcase caught her eye, surfacing from the ocean of blue-shaded armor. Xania quickly made her way to the showcase and she found herself right in front of a shop. Crystals sparkling bright, luxuriously engraved wood, precious stones in all shapes and colors.

Xania smiled, seeing her second favorite thing in the world: jewelry.

The Menti bit her lip and went inside, her mood changing from broody and hectic to content and pleased. Her imagination sprung up, revealing an image of her future outfit for a party.

As she left jewelry shop with a small wooden box full of new bracelets and chains, the Dasaka caught herself thinking that attending this masquerade party wasn’t the most terrible idea she had had.

“And now I need something that will fit with these”, she took a glance at the box in her hands.

Xania started walking slowly, carefully observing windows of shops around her. One of them featured brightly colored fabric, and she picked up the pace to near it. As she did, the Menti caught a specific flash of blue to her side, followed by a crowd of lower-castes making way for two tall figures. Xania stopped and tilted her head high, recognizing Commodore Ayiwah and her Lieutenant. As they approached establishment that was also of interest to the Menti, she stepped closer, nodding to the two nearing Dasaka, acknowledging their presence.

-----

Ayiwah let out small sigh, inaudible to anyone but herself. She had never been a big fan of the displays of reverence that were ever-present when she was out and about. Yes, order was important, as was respect, but to the commodore, these seemingly overdone gestures were not a sign of respect. Rather, they showed that yes, the crowd had acknowledge that somebody higher on the social ladder than they were was present and that they each knew how to bow their heads as fast as possible as to not even let the thought cross Ayiwah’s mind that they did not. Or in this case just standing aside and avoiding eye-contact while shuffling along. But she knew that a lot of them didn’t mean it. In addition, it was also a waste of time, since every moment spent on such gestures was a moment they could spend working to strive for improvement. There was a time and place for these gestures and to her, this wasn’t it.

Or maybe you’re just oversensitive from having been away so long, Aya. Things work a little differently ashore. she thought to herself.

Out at sea, there was no time for standing around and trying to look respectful. Each of them, Hoko, Dashi and Menti alike were responsible for the safety of the ship and the others. The sailors showed their respect by working hard and working well, without letting order get in the way of power and thereby earning honour. To Ayiwah, the three virtues were a balance, not a list according to priority.

With the Dashi making way, she and Tazera quickly spotted another figure who was heading for the same shop: another Daska, sporting the familiar Umbraline colours. When she noticed the two Menti she turned and nodded pleasantly. Ayiwah recognized her as she returned the nod, she had seen her in the past around the yards, though she did not know her rank.

“Good morning, clan-sister...Xania, isn’t it?” the commodore said, formally.

“Commodore. Lieutenant,” Xania made a pleased, yet formal smile, slightly straightening her back. “I see you are here with the same business as I am, aren’t you?” she looked at the store inquisitively, and returned her gaze back to Commodore.

“If you have received an invitation as well and lack the proper attire for a masquerade, then yes.” Ayiwah replied. “What made you chose this store?”

The Menti nodded, taking another quick glance at the store.

“I guess, vibrantly colored fabric that I caught with corner of my eye, or maybe something else. But anyway, here we are,” she took a step to the side, allowing Ayiwah and Tazera to enter freely. “Mind if I accompany you, Commodore?”

“Not at all.” she answered, a barest hint of a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth. Looks like they had found another ally in their quest to look fabulous for the chojo’s little shindig. Ayiwah indicated the door to the shop with a slight nod. As they walked towards it the commodore said: “You’re in luck Xania...this little establishment was recommended to us by the princess in person.”

Approaching the store, Xania slightly raised her brows.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she noted almost cheerfully.

“Royal endorsements usually are.” Ayiwah said. Doesn’t make choosing an outfit any easier… she thought to herself. She stepped up to the door and pushed it open. A small set of chimes announced their arrival. She held the door open for Xania and Tazera. “After you.”

-----

Plangori Soraya wasn't entirely certain if she was having the time of her life or if she was a step away from going mad. There was no reason it couldn't be both, she supposed as she slammed the fabric that would be Soraph’s costume by the end of the day onto the table. Going to need the paste for this one's patterns, then the dye soak... Maybe if I leave Mako's costume out to dry a bit longer I can afford to hand-dye this one... She reached for her stencil, found it missing, cursed, turned, vaulted over the hastily-cobbled-together drying rack where the first step of Yumiwa's dress - the dress - was solidifying, grabbed the stencil from where it lay next to one of Arisaka’s sleeves, turned back, and tripped over her own feet as she heard the storefront bell ring.

For a few moments she let herself contemplate how delightfully wooden the floor of her workshop's loft was - look, it had grain and everything! - before reality reasserted itself. She was downstairs in three seconds flat; smacking the stencil down onto the counter next to the (still far too tall) stack of order papers, she turned to face the door. "Welcome honored guests to my humble workshop unfortunately I regret to inform you that due to high volume unless you are Umbraline-related I am not currently taking any more requeeeeerrrrrrrrggggh-"

The three Dasaka who had just stepped through her front door were decked out in regalia that suggested they were high-ranking officials of some kind, a theory backed up by the fact one of them was Commodore Ayiwah herself I swear to the Great Spirit if the chōjo sent the Zataka-taken head of the fleets after me because I failed to appreciate the finer points of behind-kissing-

It was about this time she realized she was still making a noise like a dying animal. She manually reset her mouth for the second time that day, forced as big a smile she could, and prayed for a miracle. "Commodore, it's an honor to see you here. Can I be of any help to you and your companions?"

Tazera looked sideways at Ayiwah.

:Looks like we weren’t expected,: she Ideatalked to Aya. Her mental voice carried the suggestion of a humourous smirk.

:Indeed: her friend replied, but without any judgement in her voice. She took another step forward, looking at Soraya.

“Yes, you can.” she answered the seamstresses question. “The chojo - “ Soraya tensed up noticeably at the mention of the princess, “- recommended your shop specifically. The three of us are in need of suitable dresses for the masquerade party.”

Ayiwah noticed the Dashi let out a longer breath. If it hadn’t been for the officer’s presence, she imagined she would have gone for a full-on audible sigh.

Now that was emotional whiplash. For a few instants her brain looped on empty, then she let the going-to-die smile relax into a already-too-busy-day-is-going-to-get-busier smile. “Ah. Yes. Well -” keep it formal you don’t need to push your luck “- tell the chōjo I am honored to have earned her recommendation.” Maybe Yumiwa was a bit less uptight than her station suggested.

“As for dresses and costumes-” she plucked her measuring tape from under the counter and stepped around it, pointedly ignoring the still-swaying stack of orders sitting on its corner. “If I may take your measurements and ask if you have any particular ideas? If not, it would be my pleasure to offer suggestions.” (She had long since given up hope that anyone would remember she was a dye merchant first, a dye artisan second, and a dressmaker third.)

Ayiwah stepped forward, while adeptly unclipping the small strips hooking her coat to the rest of her form-fitting armor. In one fluid movement she’d slipped the arms out of the sleeves and used the momentum of the cloth to neatly fold up her officer’s coat, placing it on the counter. She did not make a big deal out of it. If the seamstress was as busy as it seemed then the commodore did not wish to waste time - neither Soraya’s nor her own.

“Your suggestions are very welcome - though I can not speak for my companions. Personally, I do not wish for something overly elaborate, just something appropriate and sufficiently identity-obscuring. I would prefer something that does not factor in my rank or position.” That was the obvious bit out of the way, the basic needs - but it was not much to go on yet, she still needed design ideas and her mind was still pulling blanks. Her eyes lingered on the folds of her cloak for a few quiet seconds as Soraya went to work on the measurements. Suddenly, she remembered the dragon the crew had sighted on the way back to port the previous afternoon.

“Actually, I think something atypical would be in order; a more casual but still elegant dress in Umbraline purple and themed after our clan’s symbol, the dragon."

Casual but elegant. That was one of those combinations that was much, much easier said than done, but with a dozen orders in various states of completion scattered around the workshop, Soraya had already decided to just go ahead and roll with the impossible today. “Purple and dragons, hm?” She glanced upstairs for a moment as she stepped around to the other side of the Commodore. “I’ll warn you, Yu- the Chōjo already called dibs on dragon couture. I can make you something a bit lower-key, but you tell me - she the kind to want the only dragon dress in the room?”

Ayiwah furrowed her brow slightly. “I am not surprised - the dragons are of significance to the clan. But I can imagine her request was far more elaborate, hence why I’d prefer something that is a bit less intricate - I believe there is a saying about elegance found in simplicity.” she said, her tone unintentionally growing a bit colder than intended. Soraya in the meantime started to work on taking her measurements. And while she did, Ayiwah started to get a clearer image of what she envisioned. Just like appetite that grew while eating a tasty dish, she started to have more defined ideas. She still thought the outfit was ridiculous, but that was in the nature of the occasion.

It only took Soraya a few minutes to get all the necessary measurements before she turned to the next of her companions. While she took care of them, Ayiwah slipped back into her coat. Then she turned to the counter. The Plangori kept a stack of papers there for notes. Ayiwah took an empty one and retrieved a stylus from her coat’s pocket and began to sketch out the idea that had formed in her mind, while looking up every few seconds again to keep an eye on the events in the room.

Soraya had no objections to the Commodore dealing with her own dress design; it was one less thing for her to do. She pulled her measuring tape taut once more and stepped over to the other Dasaka. “Next?”

Tazera stepped forward (though of course only after Xania had politely gestured for her to go first). She gave the Plangori woman a knowing smile.

“If it’s any comfort, you’re not the only one who has to work miracles one the royals’ whims sometimes,” she said. “So...I don’t know much about dresses, but I was thinking...make me a Teshi Hawk.”

Teshi were a species of seabird native to the seas of the Archipelago that nested in the cliffs of Iki, famed for their speed in flight and the accuracy with which they dive-bombed their aquatic prey. Tazera fancied herself something of a huntress, so it seemed like an apt theme.

“Teshi? Yeah, alright, I know Teshi.” One of them tried to nest on our caravan and ruined half a batch of very good green, she didn’t add. “I can do Teshi.” Probably. The tape danced in her hands as she stepped around the Dasaka, muttering measurements under her breath. Without looking, she reached over, grabbed a sheet of paper (nearly smacking Ayiwah in the face as she did), and jotted down the order.

“Next!”

It was Xania’s turn, and she stepped forward, straightening her back and slightly lifting her arms so Soraya had easier time buzzing around her with tape.

“I want something simple, but with a twist,” she said, her eyes followed Dashi as she circled her. “Light beige colored dress with a hood. I want it cover everything but my back and arms. As for the mask,” the Menti raised her eyes to ceiling and bit her lip. “Something bright, maybe maroon or crimson, like a throat of a hummingbird. Thin eye openings, covers whole face.”

People who actually give detailed orders. Zuto Nui bless ‘em all. And beige? Beige was easy. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said as she stepped around to Xania’s other side.

Ayiwah slipped the cap back on her stylus and pocketed again as Soraya finished taking the notes on Xania’s planned party dress. The drawing she had scribbled was rough, but it showed her vision quite nicely. The dress itself was comprised of two silky lengths of cloth, running down from her shoulders and across her chest and back, leaving her lower back and belly exposed, before crossing over just above the hips, splitting again over the thighs and then falling straight down, halfway past the knee to her lower leg. The cloth was held together by a fashionable crystal breastplate and buckle, styled after dragon-scales, which were complemented by arm- and leg-guards in the same style. The outfit was completed by a dragon-styled mask and arm-rings with short tassels made from the same cloth as the dress hanging from them.

Satisfied, the commodore handed the sketch over to the seamstress. “This should serve better than any description. Now then, unless you require anything else, we will leave you to your work again. We know that your services are in high demand right now and don’t wish to take up more of your time than is necessary.”

Soraya leaned down to look at the sketch. Yikes. Since when did commodores know good dress design? Her eyes darted from detail to detail - the breastplate was going to be tricky to get on short notice, and she didn’t have time to get the buckles quite as delicately made as Ayiwah might like, but - it would be possible. She wasn’t going to sleep tonight, but it would be possible.

“Alright, I can do this. I’ll warn you, the bill’s not going to be cheap. But I can do this.” She glanced upstairs again and did a momentary count of how many orders she had outstanding. ‘Too many’ was what it boiled down to. “It’ll be ready before the party. Can’t guarantee anything sooner than that.”

Ayiwah’s mouth curled up ever so slightly at the expression of Soraya, as she looked at the sketch. She was not a good artist, but she knew a little about how cloth worked, thanks to a few centuries of sailing. The seamstress looked back up at her. “Payment will not be a problem. If the dresses are ready on the day of the party, that will be sufficient. It is all we can ask. Thank you.” the commodore said, formally with a small nod of the head. She looked from Tazera to Xania, indicating the door with a slight movement of her chin. The two other Menti also gave small nods and then followed Ayiwah back outside. She didn't know how they felt, but inside, she was walking the line between excitement and anxiousness. In any case, the party would prove to be interesting...

[Nuju Metru]

IC:

Nihi was rich, and it made her a little uncomfortable.

 

Before she'd left the Chojo's terrace, one of Yumiwa's servants had given Nihi a small sack, stating that the contents therein should be used by Nihi to purchase attire for the Chojo's upcoming party. Nihi, still a little dazed then by her conversation with Yumiwa, had nodded dumbly, thanked the servant, and started to head down; only a few levels lower had she realized what exactly she held. Struck by a wave of curiosity, stopping in a niche of the main staircase, Nihi had opened the sack and her jaw had dropped at the sight of its contents. In the little bag had been more money than Nihi had ever seen in her life: a few dozen crystal dragons, all, judging by the sliver of metal encased within, of the highest denomination. And the servant had given the money to her with as much ado as if it'd been a piece of fruit! The way the royalty lived continued to astonish Nihi.

 

Over the next few days, she'd had passing thoughts several times about saving some of the clothing money for herself, but had dismissed the idea quickly every time it'd floated unbidden into her head. It wouldn't have been honorable to have misused the Chojo's gift; and besides, if anyone would be able to spot a marginally less-expensive (and therefore, shameful) garment, it would be the crowd Nihi would mingle with at the party. She resolved each time to spend all the money, if for no other reason other than that it'd be gone from her mind.

 

As she traversed the Sado street under the afternoon sun, and the bag of dragons clinked in her hand, Nihi couldn't help but remember how else she could be using the money. She quelled her temptation at once. She was on a mission; go to the Plangori artisan whose address had been written hastily on a note inside the bag, and buy her attire. The party was very soon: Nihi had been worried about buying her clothes too long before the event, for fear of accidentally ruining them before their crucial debut. But as she wove her way through the Markets - already cause for some distress; she pointedly avoided looking at the stall upon which she'd earlier given her tirade - and the Plangori's workshop came into view, Nihi realized that she'd made a worse mistake: procrastination.

 

She'd never shopped for rich clothes before; how could she have known that today would be the worst time to buy? There was a short line out the door of the workshop, and by the way the would-be customers stood, it seemed like they'd been waiting in place for a while. Some had servants or shadows to fan and feed them while they shifted back and forth on their feet; these Dasaka and Datsue were already robed in luxurious fabrics. Naked of upper-class attire, Nihi felt suddenly bashful, even though none of the others in line paid her any special attention. They probably assumed she was someone's servant, picking up a garment in her master's stead. This imagination made Nihi feel strangely self-conscious.

 

Bashfully, the money-purse seeming ever less like it belonged in her hand, Nihi joined the end of the queue.

Edited May 24, 2014 by Nuju Metru

[Void Emissary]

IC: Amaki

 

IC:

 

"Hardly the worst thing that can happen to a 'Hoko," Daijuno said, fingers drawing a fresh cigarette from the folds of her coat. "Besides, a lady with a little money behind her might be of some use to you on whatever-this-Umbraline-given mission of yours happens to be."

 

-Void

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Days ago.

 

"For the last time, you are going to the Chojo's party," Arsix Dastana commanded, the sound of her barked command echoing through her solar.

 

"You know, I wish that I'd had the foresight to pull really hard on the back of your neck when you were being born, so maybe I could choke you to death before you learned to talk to me," grumbled her twin brother Jasik, younger than her by eight seconds and First Son of the Clan Dastana. He was dressed finely in the clan's orange colors, with a coat collar that framed his strong jaw and pouty face. A golden handkerchief was wrapped over one of his eyes diagonally, to block the sun from shining into them; the other eye was as expressive and topaz as his wardrobe was, and glimmered with the mischief of a troll under a bridge, demanding toll. Arsix looked at her with the same handsome facial structure, the same wardrobe - but where Jasik's eyes displayed lazy amusement, hers held only a stark lack of patience for her brother, who had sulked and smiled his way through life effortlessly.

 

Such were the Dastana twins - there were no pair of Dasaka alive that loved each other more fiercely than they, but they both liked each other about as much as a splinter in the eyeball.

 

"Mother's going already, and as her heir you should go, too," he said. "I'm more than capable of being on my own here. I'm housebroken. Do you know how many days it's been since I last wet myself?" He smiled and reached for a fruit platter on the table he lounged beside; he found a berry there and plucked it from its stem with his teeth.

 

"Zero, once I pummel the ###### out of you to make you interested in going," his older sister rumbled.

 

Jasik knew that if it came to blows, she would pummel him, too; Arsix was stronger than him physically, but he was by far the better Mindarm and Soulsword, as befit a First Son of his rank and heritage. Rank and heritage. True, they were not the Umbralines, with their ancient, proud ways and their ties to dragons, and both twins would rather choke down each other's words for all eternity than rub elbows with the Fursics, but they were no beggars. Their family was self-made and savvy; they enabled Jasik to live a comfortable life back home on Iki, overlooking the docks and indulging in the whispers he would receive from friends at court.

 

"Why should I care what they do on Sado?" Jasik asked, languidly sprawled on his comfortable perch and looking at his sister from behind the golden shroud over his right eye. "Umbralines and Fursics, warring over who can weaponize idiocy the fastest. That's all they ever do there. Boring."

"Look who's complaining. The eight seconds between when I was born and when you were born is the only time in my life I haven't been smothered in idiocy."

"Sorry. I know how hard it must have been to be born with all the frown lines and none of the wits."

"I'm sure the chojo will think very fondly of your wits."

"I don't care what Yumiwa thinks, either. She's going to be betrothed to Kuno Fursic, God bless her," Jasik sighed daintily, tracing his finger through the gilded rings of the fruit platter. "I give it five years before she has an heir, because that's how long it'll take Kuno to compel himself to walk into her bedroom. He'd probably desire the contents of this platter more than he ever would an Umbraline princess." Arsix cast him a warning look, but Jasik rolled his eyes.

"What? I knew him when we were boys together, training at the Yards in Sado. We weren't friends, but no one was his friend. Got to know him pretty well though - say what you will about Kuno, but never say that he doesn't love himself a little fruit." Jasik popped a grape into his mouth and winked. Arsix let out a deep breath and, without twitching a muscle, threw the invitation at her brother with as much effort as she would take to swat a fly.

The First Son looked up and froze the invitation with his mind. From here, he could almost read the scrawled text, and he could trace the abundant decorations on the parchment with his uncovered eye. He flicked that eye once, casual and sly, and from his palm a large sphere of Soulsword energy hovered. The twin flicked his hand sideways, like he was throwing a ball, and the orb spun and spun and smashed into the parchment. It crumbled to cinders, raining black ash onto the floor. Arsix watched him warily; though Jasik reveled in acting lazy, she knew her brother well enough to if he wanted to, he could have punched clean through a person's chest with that orb as easily as he'd punched through the paper, so great was his prowess.

"You need to go to the Chojo's party," Arsix recited through gritted teeth; she'd grown weary of Jasik's games at last. "Mother wants you to try, Jasik. We've heard the same whispers. The princess would rather eat her own ring fingers than put Kuno's ring on one of them. We'll never have a better shot than this. So you will go to the Chojo's party."

He surprised her: "Then I will go to the Chojo's party."

 

His sister's brow, so much like his, furrowed in quick surprise; he took it as invite to continue and finally left his perch, rolling two grapes between his fingers and popping them both into his mouth at once. They were particularly juicy, and made his mouth pucker while he stepped out onto the solar and tilted the handkerchief slightly to prevent his eye from squinting in the new light of the sun. There was no such thing as tree cover on Iki; the sun rose, the sun fell, and in between those two fixed points in time the sun shone.

 

"I can't say it won't do any good. What our old friends at court don't know is that the arrangements are already made, off the record. Yumiwa and Kuno will wed."

 

"Who made the arrangements?" For once, Arsix looked off her game; her eyes narrowed, not sure if her twin brother was playing some trick on her.

 

"The rora, Yusanora."

 

Her wariness turned to disdain, and she cursed under her breath. "And how do you know?"

 

"New friends at court." Jasik's smile was cocky, daring; he'd been challenging her all his life, challenging her to hit him, to doubt him, to love him.

 

"Do these new friends have any ideas on what we can do to shake up the betrothal? Mother wants this, Jasik. She wants it just as much as you don't."

 

"On the scheming front, they're quiet," he confessed, casually conjuring up another ball of Soulsword energy and chucking it over the railing. "But you know me, Arsix. I've got a head full of ideas."

 

The ball landed, and a loud crack! resonated through the air. Ashes and rock dust rose up to their balcony and hovered there; the dark cloud blotted out the sun for a few seconds before the light pierced through, brighter and more powerful than before.

 

-Tyler

Edited May 24, 2014 by LONG LIVE TYLER

[GSR]

IC: Soraya

 

Soraya followed after her departing customers. "It's been an honor to serve youuuuuuuurrrrrgh-"

 

She slammed the door shut behind her and took a few deep breaths. There was another three customers standing outside; all Dasaka, all looking slightly impatient, and one already dressed up enough that she may as well have worn a sign that said "TOROSHU". For a moment she glanced upstairs again. What if I just like, set the door on fire? Would that stop them?

 

But no. Plangori Soraya got the job done, even if said job was coming up on something like a dozen dresses. Morie, you owe me big-time.

 

She took another breath, swung the door open, and put on her best smile. "Welcome! Sorry to have kept you all waiting. Come in, come in."

Edited May 24, 2014 by GSR

[25K Now!]

IC: Noshima

 

Noshima gave a small bow to Soraya from behind Akone. "I give my humble apologies for using up your time," said the Hogo Toroshu. "If you are to be willing, I would be highly thankful if you were capable of providing my subordinate with suitable garb."

 

She lightly tapped Akone's shoulder.

 

"I shall leave the situation to you."

[NorikSigma]

IC: Akone

Uh-oh. What does that mean?

 

Outwardly, she said, "Yes, I was looking to get suitable clothes for a gathering. You see, I don't seem to have any suitable clothes for such an event," Akone nervously shifted. It was a little embarrassing to be telling this.

 

OOC: Karz, a lack of real life experience in this is severely hampering my already stunted ability to RP this scene.

[25K Now!]

IC: Noshima

 

"I assure that you shall be fine. For now, I shall prepare myself. Rendezvous at the compound."

 

With one last bow, the Hogo Toroshu disappeared off to who-knows-where.

 

IC: Amaki

 

"Um, I'm fine. Honest."

[NorikSigma]

IC: Akone

Akone bowed.

 

"Yes, Toroshu."

 

Noshima walked off.

 

Akone turned back to Sorayo.

 

"So, where do we start?"

[Constructelf]

IC: Seiryu, and NPC: Kyoshi servant.

"If I hear you correctly, I am forbidden from returning to my abode at this time."

 

"Correct."

 

"I cannot use this time to inspect the facilities of our charges?"

 

"Correct."

 

"And I am forbidden from withdrawing to the Knowledge towers as well?"

 

"Correct again. You must attend this party."

 

"May I inquire as to the reason for this?"

 

"Your sister cannot attend due to her illness. You are the only other representative of Kyoshi nobility that is still alive; therefore, you must represent us at this party."

 

"Matou, it is a party, not a war council of the Toroshu. It clearly cannot be of such great import that my sister cannot be persuaded by reason. It would be wise to send me to an area of greater productivity-"

 

"Orders are orders. Now, here are your party clothes-"

 

"Excuse me, but are you sure these are the vestments that I shall be donning for this gathering?"

 

"Yes. They were fitted to your size."

 

"The butterfly motif does not suit me at all."

 

"Tough luck. They're Plangori made."

 

"Plangori... The funds could have been-should have been-diverted to research into Minami's condition, or into the Miracle Grow project, or sent into repair coverage for our Saihoko-"

 

"Well, it wasn't."

 

"Is this Minami's idea of a joke?! First ordering me to attend this most vain gathering, then the foolish allocation of the clan's coffers, then forcing upon me the visage of this-"

 

"Do you, First Son Kyoshi-Amakusa, do you dare defy the will of the Confederacy?"

 

"..."

 

"Anyways, your clothes, this accessory-"

 

"A paper fan."

 

"Thank you for stating the obvious. Also, Minami gave me this list to give to you."

 

"Sigh. What manner of list may it be."

 

"A list of Menti, that if they make advances on you, you are forbidden to turn down-"

 

"WHAT?! Art thou mad?!"

 

"Your sister's words, not mine, and do you wish to call our Toroshu a madwoman?"

 

"... No, I do not."

 

"Thought so. I will be leaving now. If word reaches our ears that you skipped this party..."

 

"Then what?"

 

"Why should I tell you now?"

 

 

 

The servant departed, leaving Seiryu holding his clothes and the list in his hands. Seiryu sighed a heavy sigh and looked up to the heavens. "Why," he whispered, "Must you send me into such a m-meaningless e-endeavor? T-to send me into this den of wolves clothed in garments of gold and silk? Why must you abuse my absence, and deny me the comfort of home?" Inside his head, Seiryu was thinking of the many things that could go wrong at this party. "I... I..."

 

Seiryu had been diagnosed as a workaholic before, and had also been told that he suffered from extreme paranoia and that he was a shut-in. While Seiryu could see the logic behind his accuser's arguments, he preferred to see it as always being prepared and productive. It made situations such as this one difficult, however, as he simply could never relax. Seiryu would counter that such social events were utterly meaningless and only worked to drain the coffers of the ones organizing the event, but his sister would never listen. And after five years of respite, she was doing it again...

Edited May 24, 2014 by Last Son Amakusa

[Mel]

[sado Markets, Soraya’s Practice]

“My clan is honored by your patronage, but take pity on her, she is nearly dead on her feet.”

The Torushu of Clan Plangori gave Akone a short once-over before sweeping past the stunned patrons and an equally stunned Soraya, grabbing the tailor and sweeping inside with . Hogo. Really, retainers should not expect to show up a day before the event and expect anything remotely custom-made.

Behind her filed a dutiful line of unassuming middle-aged dashi. At least that’s what they looked like to those there. But to the few who knew their names: Yōriko, Tsuhinoki, Mushomi, Chikozome--they were workers of magic. In a blink of an eye, they assembled themselves across Soraya’s various projects as if they had been doing them from the beginning.

Morie busied herself with snatching up the scattered orders.

“Soraya, I do recall specifically sending you a letter detailing how you would collaborate with the rest of your clanswomen. I expect you to actually listen next time. It’s a good think I know how thick-headed you are and am not willing to stake the reputation of this clan upon it.”

 

She glared at the stunned saihoko, who had begun to recover and had the gall to look relieved.

“Thank me later--when you apologize. Now go out and take orders.”

Edited May 24, 2014 by Yukiko

[GSR]

IC: Soraya

What. The-

For a few moments there wasn't much she could do but stand there, mouth slightly agape. Was this what it was like to be a plaything of the goddesses? A hundred years from now were they going to be telling the folktale of the dye merchant who, faced with the endless task of assembling half the blasted city's party wear, was miraculously saved by the arrival of her cla-

Hold it. "Hey, hey, hey!" She spun back to Morie. "For the record, I wasn't ignoring them. I've just hardly had a chance to step outside what with my door slamming all day. I already sent out a couple messages, and as soon as I got a spare moment-"

Her mouth was doing that thing where it was getting ahead of her brain again. This was Morie, not the Chōjo; she deserved some respect. Soraya swallowed her pride - it prickled on the way down - and managed to get out, "That is - I shouldn't have let myself get this swamped in the first place. And the aid is - appreciated." Oh, she was gonna pay for this later, she could tell.

She turned back away and to her customers, who looked about as blown over as she did. "Okay. Er, please pardon the intrusion. There's a slight... reorganization going on." Smile and polite, Soraya. Smile and polite. "Can I-"

 

I know how thick-headed you are

 

"-be of any assistance?" She wasn't sure if it was pride that was burning along with those words in the back of her throat, but she really, really didn't have time to contemplate it. Smile and polite, and don't screw it up any more.

[NorikSigma]

IC: Akone

Akone was annoyed by that new woman, mostly because she had to repeat her order. And it was hard enough struggling out the words.

 

Clear het throat.

 

"Ahem, so uh, about me..." She said to the flustered Soraya.

 

"Did you get it the first time?"

[GSR]

IC: Soraya

Soraya blinked for a moment while her brain rewound to the instant before Morie had steamrolled her shop. Oops.

"Right!" she said, putting on her best of-course-I-knew face and stepping forward with the measuring tape. As she worked her way around her customer (and she had to admit, being able to just yell the measurements to the other Plangori as she went instead of having to memorize them was a bit easier), she pattered, "Party clothes, then. Masquerade. Any particular favorite animals? We can be flexible."

[NorikSigma]

IC: Akone

Akone was caught off-guard by the question.

 

"I-uh, whatever you think works best."

[EmperorWhenua]

IC:

 

Today was a special day. Today was my day. Today… was party day.

 

. . .

 

That morning I’d slept like a log but and didn’t have to be stomped out of bed by Hana, but it was still memorable—most of the night prior was spent thinking up things to say and do when I met with all the different nobles and delegates. The list of RSVPs was extensive, to say the least, and I’d spent a great deal of effort listing them all out and putting personal notes next to each name with stuff like how much I liked them, what I remembered of them, something witty to say, etcetera.

 

You’d think that after a long night awake I’d be groggy and late to rise. You’d be right. Nobody even raised a finger to release me from my slumber until the afternoon. “Princess Yumiwa!” a servant knocking at my door said.

 

I scrubbed my eyes. “Yeah. Hi. Wha-what time it is?” (I was still very, very out of it.)

 

“Past three, madam. Time to get ready!”

 

Well, blow me like a monkey ###### a football. The party would start in less than four hours! “Why hasn’t anyone tried to rouse me? And where is Hanako?” I barked half-rolled, half-jumped out of bed and struggled with the sheets that seemed to stick to me like tar.

 

“Your Highness, we have tried once every hour for five hours. Lady Hanako has been busy coordinating things from the Dragon Room,” she servant said, almost regretfully.

 

Bless that girl, always catering to my whims and needs as faithfully as my sister—I still needed to chat with her, too; hm. My senses critiqued my body and noted the fading polish, nonexistent makeup and absent perfumes. This would take some work I managed to sit myself down at my lowboy and commanded, “Well, send in four ladies at once! And get my dress from Plangori Soraya’s shop!”

 

“Yes, madam,” the servant said and walked away.

 

A moment later four dutiful handmaidens walked in and promptly got to work doing what Hana usually did all on her own in the same span of time. Head to toe my body was fixed and perfected until nothing was overlooked, and then… the dress. Oh man the dress was perfect. And even though I never asked for a headpiece to put on my mask… Soraya made one anyway. At T-minus four hours to party time I slipped it on and instantly felt like I could breathe and melt everybody’s face off and fly away to the mountains. The fabric was fine and soft to the touch yet perfectly weighted, letting it fall down in a flawless pattern. And the embroidery! Only a true love for the art could have justified skill sufficient to make those stitches. However many dragons were traded for this outfit were absolutely worth it. All five of us held our breaths when the dragon’s crown was set on my head, then collectively released in awe. I couldn’t stop beaming, wishing Hana was there for it as I postured myself several times before my mirrors, getting snapshots of every angle. Hana’d see it soon enough, though, and that made me glad.

 

“Your Highness,” one of my ladies said and held my cloak up high for me to slip into like a hand into a glove. “It’s time to go down.”

 

. . .

 

A dozen steps ascended to a patio with four archways, each ten Dasaka high and decorated with parted crimson curtains and hundreds of tassels that erratically ended, a few even descending to graze the crown of giants such as Jiyu. In the tunnel of each archway was a receptionist for the tickets who doubled as an announcer, who in this case quickly scrambled to call out my identity to the hall. “Her Imperial Highness the Chōjo, Yumiwa of the Umbraline Clan, Crown Princess of the Dasaka Empire!”

 

“You don’t have to announce my name yet, you know,” I playfully shot at her.

 

“Let’s call it practice, Your Highness,” she said and bowed respectfully as I walked by. “Ah, madam—your invitation?” she jested back.

 

“Check in your skirt,” I snickered and strode away, leaving her giggling in my wake. Two-dozen Hogo mooks guards secured the passages like statues dressed in all their praetorian glory.

 

The Dragon Hall itself was… immense. I’d grown up in these towers and known rooms that seemed large enough to swallow a sea in their expanses, but this room dwarfed almost all of them. Designed with size ample enough to be a dragon’s lair, it was a symmetrical room with twin wings on the opposite sides, each with several daises like great steps that served to contain dozens of patrons at tables for their comfort and dining, each with specific colors attached to them and marked by a row of Dasaka-sized Kanohi on the railings facing the center. The topmost dais was reserved for royals and our special guests and had access corridors for direct service, and also some secret tunnels that I spent many a day exploring in my youth.

 

The main floor was wide enough to give everybody and then some room to dance and socialize. Paper lanterns of every sea creature dangled from the ceiling so high that it almost disappeared from view, giving a glowing ambiance to the denizens on the ground. Several multi-layered fountains dotted the floor, each bubbling with a different flavored wine. A band of musicians played joyful music that somehow managed to fill this room with ease. Finally, a gorgeous ice sculpture of a Kanohi Dragon graced the rear center of the floor, one-third actual size, snarling gloriously at the people who will soon occupy this great hall.

 

I took my second deep breathe of the day as I took it all in. My handmaidens and other servants saluted my presence and Hana herself came close to hug me.

 

“Is it to your liking?” she asked worriedly. After all her effort to make this wonderful and with all the pressure she was under herself she was wary of failure. She didn't fail, though. “If you think anything needs to be changed we can probably make it work—“

 

“It’s beautiful, Hana,” I said with a sparkle in my eyes and took another general look at everything. “It’s perfect. Thank you, honey.” I had to hug her again.

 

A head servant came up to us and saluted. “Your Highness, madam Hanako: At your signal.”

 

I nodded. “Tell the receptionists to begin admitting in ten minutes sharp. We still have one more thing to do.”

 

“Yes, Your Highness,” she said and walked off.

 

“Hana,” I said and gleefully pulled her to the middle of the floor, “before we let them in and we and get busy again, would you please... dance with me? Just once, here and now?”

 

“Yumi, I—“

 

“Have reservations?” I interrupted. “About our relationship? Look, I understand completely if you’re not able to do it with your oath as a Herupa or something, I won't tempt you to go outside your—“

 

“I’m the best dancer in my clan!” she managed to cut in, then wrapped her arms around me readily and smiled. “My oath says nothing about dancing with my mistress. It would be my honour, Yumi.”

 

I… I just… Eeeeee!!

 

. . .

 

Ten minutes later we heard a man’s deep baritone give the opening call: “Ladies and gentlemen, nobles and royals: WELCOME!”

 

It was time.

 

OOC: Basically, come at your own pace as you catch up, but come quickly!

Edited May 24, 2014 by Crown Princess Yumiwa

[Geardirector]

OOC: Timeskips are fun

 

IC: Vilda Mako (Dragon Hall)

 

"And that's the story of how Kama got that scratch on her rightmost talon"

 

As usual Soraph demanded story after story from me until I was close to drop from exhaustion. Granted, it wouldn't be a long drop considering my height, but I'd still rather not get any closer to walking on all fours than I already was.

 

My costume, hiding my identity under a gray, hooded form, waved a little as I walked up to the counter alongside Soraph. My gait was appropriately stalking-like and shady, as befitting of the wolf mantra the costume displayed through its rough texture and the headdress/hood made in the predator's likeness.

 

"Mako and Soraph of Clan Vilda" were announced as we passed into the dragon hall. A place that certainly earned its name. Kama took off towards the high ceiling, spinning around a few times with accompanying chirps before she returned to her place on my shoulder.

 

:You're fixing to be the star of the show, aren't you?:

 

Kama chirped mischieviously in response.

Edited May 24, 2014 by Gyro Gearloose

[Voxumo]

IC: Celis

 

As Celis approached the dragon hall she could not help but silently curse the masquerade outfit she had had made. Never one for fancy outfits or similar such stylings she hated the fact she must now wear one. As such she had one crafted that while simple still held elegance. It was an empire waist, lavender lace gown with grey borders along hems, with the vague shapes of crows embroidered along the sleeves and back. The sleeves had draping sheets of fabric to give the rough appearance of wings while from the waist down similar sheets of fabric gave a feathery look representing the tail feathers of a crow. Adorning her head was a long beaked mask made to look like a crow's face.

 

So once again nothing fancy yet befitting her status. Now as she approached one of the attendants the woman looked over Celis's shoulder with a questioning gaze

"Is it just you this fine evening?"

"Yes."

 

With her rather simple answer the attendant merely pursed her lips as she looked over the ticket, verifying that it was indeed real and proceeded to let her through without so much as welcome. It was obvious she was disturbed by the cold demeanor Celis had taken up, perhaps as a security measure or some form of comfort.

 

And with one final deep breath she walked through the gateway of the Dragon hall and into the event that would be her personal he**.

 

OOC: Here is the dress that Celis's dress is based on

[Void Emissary]

IC:

 

The Dashi smiled indulgently and said, "If you insist. Best of wishes, Ms. Fursic Amaki."

 

She turned on her heel and left the scene.

 

-Void

[25K Now!]

OOC: Timeskip.

 

IC: Amaki

 

It had taken some difficulty for the young Fursic drummer to find herself suitable garments for the grand party - after all, it would not do for her to turn up in something unfashionable in front of influential clan leaders and even the imperial family. With barely any time to go shopping, she had been forced to rummage through her wardrobe for a suitable combination of clothes, and even when she had found a worthy set, she had realised that she didn't have a mask.

 

Luck really played a major role in getting her one, in fact. She may have had no idea of where and how her sister had obtained a beautiful oni-mask, made in the style of the supposed ancient demons that once plagued the empire, nor did she want to know how it was obtained. All that mattered was that it fit her, and would allow her to go to the masquerade.

 

Okay Amaki, deeep breaths.

 

"Fursic Amaki," she stuttered, as she walked up to the attendant in front of the Dragon Hall's doors. "I'm um, providing entertainment today."

[They]

IC: Daikura Koga

 

"First Son of Daikura, Koga."

 

The words rang out into the hall but were lost under the overwhelming sound of gaiety, the tuning of instruments, and the soft clinking of crystal classes. Koga appeared from the hallway more beast than man. Indeed he was covered in fine silks of rainbow color and his arms held the scent of spice, but beneath he wore a trim body suit glowing with soft heat-stones. He was not burned by the bejeweled garment, but rather emitted a soft radiance as if the sun itself. Indeed, for he had dressed as the sun, with a golden yellow mask to match. It was all part of the act, for later in the evening he would return to ground and plunge deep into the ocean, but for now the first son remained alight as the merrymaking began.

 

OOC: Daikura Toroshu coming soon.

[Vezok's Friend]

IC:

 

For all the things that the commodore disliked about parties, there was one thing that they had in common with her duty: Being on time was highly valued. And so she and the lieutenant had arrived precisely on the strike of the hour. There were not too many people present yet and so their arrival did not attract much attention as they passed the royal retainers.

 

This suited Ayiwah just fine, who felt rather exposed in her outfit of choice. As promised, Soraya had gotten the dress delivered to the yards earlier in the morning, but when it came to actually putting it on a feeling of slight discomfort had washed over her. What were you thinking, Aya? seemed to be the Mantra that had lodged itself in her mind and was running laps around her head.

 

Despite the mask covering her Arthron obscuring her identity for the most part, she felt almost naked, compared to the armor and coat she usually wore. The stomach- and back-revealing dress left quite a bit to be desired in terms of protection and she knew the jewelry dangling in front of her lower abs would not serve deflect any blows. And it had been with that thought on the way over to the palace that she had realized her pierced navel was also something nobody had seen on her in public before, which only adding to the feeling of awkwardness. Of course, on the outside the commodore seemed as professional as always, letting none of these feelings show, but the looks of the guards upon entering did make her feel somewhat self-conscious.

 

So, after entering the dragon hall and finding that the princess was quite thoroughly occupied with dancing with one of her handmaidens - enough to not notice the two of them, Ayiwah had made her way over and upstairs to one of the multiple dais with Tazera, only stopping when one of the many waiters around offered them something to drink. Each equipped with a glass of sparkling wine mixed with juice, they were now comfortably seated and slightly out of sight, at least until the party would fill up and it would be easy to mingle.

 

:It looks like most of the guests have decided to be fashionably late.: she mentally said to Tazera. :But at least we needn't worry about all heads turning to look at our ridiculous costumes.:

[Ghosthands]

IC (Tazera)

 

Tazera had not been pleased to learn that she would not be allowed to wear her boarding axe to the party. All the same, contrary to Ayiwah's discomfort, the Lieutenant actually quite liked her costume. The Plangori had done a marvellous job. It was elegant and striking at the same time: the loose green gown was overlaid with an asymmetric design of overlapping segments that strongly evoked the feathered wings of a Teshi Hawk. To top it all off was the beak-nosed mask with its plumes of 'feathers' flanking her head.

 

All in all, I dare say I look pretty darn good.

 

Judging by Aya's Ideatalk, she wasn't feeling quite as good about the whole affair. Her friend and superior was clearly insecure about being so exposed, in such an unfamiliar social situation.

 

In other words, it was the perfect time for some teasing.

 

:Yeah,: she replied, :but that just means you get to relive the uncomfortable-stare-moment with every new arrival.:

[GSR]

OOC: Since there's a few characters still at Soraya's business pre-party, my posts with her'll be marked with a time period as well. That said right now I haven't got the time for a party post just yet, so...

 

IC: Soraya [soraya's practice, pre-party]

 

Whatever goes, then. "Okay. How about-"

 

She turned and yelled to the room, "Hey! Someone check how much yellow we've got on hand!"

 

"I've just started another batch," called Mushomi.

 

"Perfect." She turned back to Akone. "You're gonna be going as a Husi bird. Very streamlined look. Work for you?"

Edited May 24, 2014 by GSR

[Vezok's Friend]

IC:

 

 

:Glad to see you have my bak, Lt...:

 

Ayiwah rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink, hoping she might find something stronger over the course of the evening.

[They]

IC:

 

Toroshu Ihi climbed the stairs to the Dragon Hall with a sense of grace and power befitting her rank. Her languid strides were hidden beneath the cascading blue sheets of thinnest silk, a walking wave cresting the landing where dazzling silver pearls glittered from within the folds. Her shoulders held the straps of the Otu's cape, the ancient garment of the Daikura clan. Woe be to the one who might spill wine upon it. Beside her stood a young menti, one of the esteemed champions of the most recent Tarakona Games. It was only fitting to bring a champion to such an event. It had been a short travel, Ihi's home was in the menti Yard after all instead of in the clan lands, but one filled with purpose.

 

She passed through with her invitation like a river coursing down its channel and did not stop until the moment her eyes beheld the splendor of the decorations, the beauty of the attendants, and the Chōjo herself taking the floor with a dance.

 

"Tasaru," Ihi addressed her companion with a smile, "Please see your father finds something to wear next time that's less... Radiant."

[Constructelf]

IC: Seiryu

"What a monumental waste of royal money," Seiryu quipped bitterly to himself. "And what a useless event in and of itself. If one wishes to revel without purpose, surely they need not make such a large spectacle of the event? To devote so much time and resources to engaging in a pursuit that is fleeting and without purpose..." A sharp look from the door guard shut him up. Apparently they didn't like his criticism of the party. Sighing, he entered the hall. The announcer boomed his name, causing him to jump in shock. Did they need to have everybody's name shouted for the whole island to hear? "Spare future souls the humiliation, I beseech you." As such, the angry First Son made a beeline for the most secluded sitting area in the room, and promptly sat himself down, trying (and failing) to meditate; the last thing he needed was him breaking down in public.

 

Those who looked on might scoff at his manner of dress. His masquerade dress retained his signature azure and its traditional make, but rather than the abstract dragon-esque pattern that normally twisted around on the fabric, branches of yellow wisteria flowers covered his body. The Plangori made kimono was matched with a mask that complemented the flowers: a blue and gold butterfly stretched its wings across Seiryu's Calix, while what would be its legs mutated into dull blades, stretching themselves along the Tryna shape of his mask. While it would look stunningly beautiful on a person of daintier character, it looked absolutely ridiculous on Seiryu. Not that it wasn't beautiful, and it fit his sizes perfectly too; but the motif did not fit him at all. If one could see behind his facade of stoicism, one could tell that he was getting increasingly frustrated. "Minami... You..."

Edited May 25, 2014 by Last Son Amakusa

[AuRon the champion]

IC:

 

Long ago, in events that are regaled into myths, the Shinushya tormented the corners of the Dasaka's minds. Creatures that consumed the souls of powerful Dasaka, after consuming enough souls the Shinushya would be powerful enough to reach out...

 

And tear open our definition of reality, and walk right into our world.

 

They were powerful, beyond mortal definition of powerful. And they never stopped being hungry for the souls of the living either.

 

Once, a Rora managed to bind one to her will, according the Umbraline's who were into the history of the world. It was a giant monster, capable of tearing Dasaka apart with it's bare hands. And it was frighteningly loyal to the Umbralines. It lived as a weapon, an enforcer, a servant of the Rora's will.

 

It eventually grew tired of the world and walked out the same way it came in, much to some's horror.

 

Ever since it left the world, it was regaled into a myth, like the rest of it's kind, reminiscent of a time where horrors walked the world and Dragons flew in the sky...

 

Jiyu's suit was red. A red suit, with yellow highlights upon the shoulders, forearms, and legs. They came with a bluish gray pair of gloves, the back of the hand's which were the same red as the rest of the suit. The mask covered mostly the front of his Kanohi, a white mask with a red chin, giving him what appeared to be a second pair of eyes. Atop his brow was an orange crescent, a warrior's crescent.

 

Was a demon truly defined by the fact that it was a demon, or that in it's wake only violence and debauchery followed?

 

Jiyu tried to ignore the uneasy feelings within him. He only truly desired to talk to one, specific person before he began. Before the moment came. And what would that one specific person say to him, for the first time in... Whenever the last time they talked was.

 

To say that Jiyu was antsy would be an understatement. If he was one to shake, he'd be shaking in his red-highlighted-yellowy-orange dress shoes. But he wasn't that type.

 

He was the kind who killed Aunts out of ambition and spite.

 

Jiyu slowly walked towards the doors, stopping to pass his ticket off.

 

The woman took a look at it and began to tremble, looking up at Jiyu, her mouth wide open in a mixture of anger, curiosity, and fear.

 

"Don't announce my name," Jiyu instructed, "And forget about what you've read. Enjoy yourself ma'am."

 

The Children of Zakata were many in number. They were in every clan, in every family, trailing across history all the way to the dawn of the Dasaka race. The single blemish upon an otherwise 'perfect' species. Jiyu detested the thought. The thought made his blood boil. It was a way of saying that he was inferior. That he could never be as good as either of his sisters, that he was innately evil because he was born different from them.

 

Different from his twin sister.

 

Was a demon truly defined by the fact that it was a demon, or that in it's wake only violence and debauchery followed?

 

Jiyu's name wasn't spoken as he strode into the hall. He didn't waste time trying to make idle talk with any of the other pathetic First Sons here either. He was here for truly one person. That's the one he wanted to talk to, and he'd saved his words for her.

 

He'd spent his entire life trapped in his bedroom, locked away and made a mockery of by his own mother. The woman who would beat him if he tried to step a foot outside his own bedroom if she didn't allow it. The woman who that when he was born, saw only a tool to gain a bit more leverage over another clan.

 

And Jiyu hated her for it. If only to spite Eshiwa, Jiyu had decided he'd abstain from romance... For now. The Toroshu had the habit of disgusting him, and he had no desire for any of their children... It even made little sense considering how if he married anyone below himself, he'd be ridiculed forever for it.

 

He soon spotted her... Of course she was always with the one she'd been entrusted with. The two were practically inseparable, and since learning how close they were Jiyu had absentmindedly wondered if there was more than friendship among them.

 

Was a demon truly defined by the fact that it was a demon, or that in it's wake only violence and debauchery followed?

 

The only Dasaka in the room who had decided to base their clothes off of a Shinushya approached the Chojo, his height making him slightly uncomfortable, considering how close he stood the ceiling. He wished his sister had picked someplace outside instead of here...

 

"Princess Yumiwa," He said, coming to a stop in front of the Chojo, "I know this day has probably been very difficult for you, and you would loathe the idea..."

 

"... But may I have a word with my sister, in private?"

 

Demons may look monstrous, Jiyu decided as he finished donning his costume for the upcoming party, but what truly made a demon a demon was that it furthered evil in the world.

 

Not because it wasn't a woman.

[Nuju Metru]

IC:

It was common knowledge on Odaiba that nothing could live in the crater of Mount Koshiki.

 

Koshiki’s peak was the highest point on the Kentoku Archipelago, of course, which automatically entailed all manner of altitudinal hazards – icy winds, thin air, and perilous falls – but this wasn’t what made the top of the dormant volcano so infamously inhospitable. The toxic lake was to blame for that. Putrid and stagnant, its waters were deep turquoise with poisonous chemicals that had, over a geological eon, bleached and saturated its beaches. It wasn’t just the ground that was corrosive; the mountain winds picked up and spread the lake’s noxious fumes all about the crater, killing seeds and animals that stayed too long.

 

But the crater wasn’t without life.

 

A little ripple broke the stagnant surface of the lake, and more waves quickly accompanied it. A large, dark shape moved through the venomous water, earning greater clarity as it ascended for air. The shape at last broke the surface, splashing and spraying searing droplets as it did so, but before the water had settled, before it could be clearly discerned amongst the foamy disturbance it’d created, the shape, a great beast, plunged back into the lake and, eel-like, began to swim underwater towards the shore.

 

Upon reaching the sloping shoreline, the beast stopped swimming and began to wade, pulling itself languorously out of the water. Bit by bit, with ponderous slowness, it emerged into the air and into the clear sight of nonexistent eyes. First came its head, long snouted and long whiskered, with teeth as keen as Soulsword blades, horns as tall as a whole Dasaka, and eyes like lanterns. The front claws had cruel curves, and were situated in huge, padded paws that in turn were fixed to the beast’s tree-trunk legs. Its midriff was a serpentine coil, a gleaming conglomeration of oddly shaped scales topped by a spiny ridge that followed the line of its spine. The back legs looked as powerful as the front ones; the tail was a gorgeously adorned giant’s whip.

 

Fully emerged from the lake – from a bath that burned the dirt off of its scaly armor, but caused it no discomfort – the Kanohi dragon shook itself off like a dog, and ambled along the beach.

 

Something caught its roving, haughty eye: a bright-hued rainbow bird was perched on a faraway ridge. How a Janu had survived the gases of the lake – how a rare Janu bird was even on Odaiba – was anyone’s guess. It was certainly highly unusual, and the Kanohi Dragon could appreciate the strangeness of the circumstances. Birds made enjoyable chase, and this one had ambled straight into the dragon’s path; the dragon wouldn’t pass an opportunity like that up. With deftness that belied its size, it prowled along the edge of the lake, taking a circuitous path towards the Janu. Perhaps aware of the approaching predator, or perhaps trying to find another eddy of clean air, the Janu fluttered further away, towards a round alcove cut into the ring of the crater.

 

Though massive relative to the beings that’d carved it out in archaic days, the alcove was nevertheless small within the ring of Koshiki’s grand crater. Six huge pillars of crystal, their flat sides intricately carved with disjointed letters on top and bottom, but blank and prismatic at their middles, towered like weathered sentinels close to the edges of the alcove.

 

At the center of their hexagon they created was a much shorter crystal protuberance. Atop an otherworldly platform wrought wholly from amethyst, raised from the corrosive sand by a short flight of steps, there was a bizarrely shaped crystal, clear and white as fine glass. In front of the glass-crystal was a deep notch; opposite the notch, and flush with the rough-hewn wall of the alcove many meters away, was an upright slab of perfectly smooth stone, the pale face of which was flawed only by another strangely shaped node of crystal fixed in its middle, and a few lines of inscribed text close to its base:

 

Across an endless ocean

Upon pale metal’s home

My key is in possession

Where you are soon to roam

The hand of fated treason

Is signal to depart

A prize of ancient season

Becomes my crucial heart

My twin will never give

Until you make me live

 

The Kanohi Dragon could not read, so the inscription was, as usual, of no concern to it. The alcove itself was nothing novel, either; it wasn’t as though this odd niche had appeared out of nowhere. It’d been there as long as the dragon could remember – which was a very, very long time – and had never been worrying or even very interesting to it. Rather than examining the familiar inanity of the alcove, the dragon gave its acute attentions to the Janu, which had perched on the alcove’s middle crystal.

 

The dragon crept closer.

 

The bird preened a little, ruffling its vibrant feathers.

 

Closer still, the great serpent crawled.

 

The Janu looked at the dragon.

 

The Kanohi Dragon stopped.

 

In the same instant that the bird launched itself off its crystal perch, the dragon pounced.

 

The Janu was fast, but the Kanohi Dragon faster. With the ease of ruthless reflex, the dragon caught its plaything midair upon one claw, skewering the bird through its rainbow wing and causing it to screech a harsh note. The dragon’s tremendous forward momentum carried it shoulder-first into the alcove’s amethyst platform, which it knocked heavily against, cracking one of the purple crystal steps and almost striking the glass-crystal with a stray spine. The dragon, none the worse for wear even after having fractured a piece of solid crystal, examined the flailing Janu upon its claw for a few ponderous seconds before it bit into the bird. The dragon started to turn away, intent on a return to the lakeside where it could enjoy its treat.

 

A brilliant blue light in the corner of the Dragon’s vision recaptured its attention.

 

Having come seemingly from nowhere, a strange being behind the amethyst platform faced the dragon. This being was nothing that the dragon had seen before; it was shaped vaguely like a Dasaka, but it was too big to be one, and it didn’t seem to have a head, and its body was covered in glowing eyes, which were the source of the blue light. Confusion – and interest – stayed the dragon; hesitation was its fatal mistake.

 

The odd not-Dasaka pointed its right arm at the dragon, and the dragon had a split second to notice that where a hand would have been on a Dasaka, this strange creature had a lump of misshapen blue crystal. The crystal lump throbbed with light, and then an energy pulse rocketed towards the dragon; before the great serpent could react, the pulse struck it squarely in the neck.

 

The Kanohi Dragon’s neck, followed like line of dominoes by the rest of its body, was transformed into water.

 

The not-Dasaka watched this happen, then directed its crystal fist at the cracked amethyst stair, and fired another pulse. The stair, when struck by the glowing energy, repaired itself. Its work done, the Abettor returned to its hiding place.

 

The sudden stream of water that had been its predator carried the dead Janu bird, mangled almost out of its shape by claw and tooth, down the corrosive sand and into the toxic lake, where it disintegrated.

 

Nothing could live in the crater of Mount Koshiki.

[NorikSigma]

OOC: Since there's a few characters still at Soraya's business pre-party, my posts with her'll be marked with a time period as well. That said right now I haven't got the time for a party post just yet, so...

 

IC: Soraya [soraya's practice, pre-party]

 

Whatever goes, then. "Okay. How about-"

 

She turned and yelled to the room, "Hey! Someone check how much yellow we've got on hand!"

 

"I've just started another batch," called Mushomi.

 

"Perfect." She turned back to Akone. "You're gonna be going as a Husi bird. Very streamlined look. Work for you?"

IC: Akone

"I suppose so," Akone really didn't know what to expect.

Edited May 25, 2014 by Just Norik

[25K Now!]

IC: Amaki

 

Suffice to say, Amaki was quite out of place, surrounded by so many influential members of society. She had a basic idea of what her purpose was here, after all: a taiko drum was sitting in the corner of the hall, visible in the corner of her eye, but until she was to be called upon,.she had absolutely no idea what to do.

 

The oni-themed warrior looked around, hoping novody would notice her nervousness.

 

OOC: Open for interaction.

[Tabby: Toa of Cats]

IC:[Tarasu]

I looked towards my father Koga, and at this remark I couldn't help but laugh aloud. The irony was just too perfect-my father was dressed as the sun, and here I was Night itself. Really, I couldn't help my pick, being that I loved sneaking around in the dark, but his choice, completely un-cordinated with my own was just too much. Like father, like daugher.

 

I smiled,"I'll be certain to darken his hopes of blinding us next time, Toroshu Ihi."

[Mel]

IC:

[imperial Palace, Dragon Room]

 

“Morie, Toroshu of Clan Plangori.”

 

Morie adjusted her shoulders to retain her regal gait as a she strowed into the room. She was dressed conservatively in a shoulder-length robe of beautiful blue-gray silk, which had been carefully bound and dipped to leave a pattern of delicate white snow-flowers. She herself had supervised the painting of the pure white sash around her waist with a single, dying flower in the upper left. The mask on her face had been painted in the likeness of a moonlit winter landscape, cutaway in the bottom to reveal her pursed lips. An opening allowed the lense of her Akaku to peek through in place of a moon. She looked regal but modest, a perfect model of the old guard that had established the current piece. Everything was in its proper place.

“Her daughter, Shuuan of Clan Plangori, third in line for succession.”

 

Well, almost everything.

***

“Her daughter, Shuuan of Clan Plangori, third in line for succession.”

The looks of quiet disdain masquerading as interest were less intense as they could have been, had I been wearing the dress I had first picked out. It was an absolutely awful shade of pink and orange, it nearly gave my mother a heart attack when she first saw it. Only expected when she had the gall to “let us pick our own garments” which really meant staring down her nose while she talked about the taste of the younger generation as if that made her better to rule somehow. She’ll never die because Zataka will get sick of her and just send her back up.

Anyway, the dress. Mother dear put her foot down on that one, but I managed to keep the mask after I had “accidentally” thrown the once she gave me in a cooking fire. Mother was furious, but she had been too busy with preparations and connections to notice until this afternoon.

And, oh, it was a splendid mask.

It had been made by a theatre troupe near the village, in the guise of a snarling demon. It was nothing I recognized from the myths I knew, but it made up for lack of name in awfulness. The visage was jet black, with horns sprouting where the eyes should have been and multiple eyes all over the face, and huge fangs coming down from the jaw.

It’s not like my real face is any more pleasant for people to look at.

Mother had ended up choosing a for me a dark blue robe with a black and red sash and sleeves that nearly reached the ground. It had been dyed so flashes of lightning bolts of ran across it. Elegant and tasteful, per mother request as always, but at least it had a pleasant swish to it. I looked like something that had crawled from the smoke of Zataka’s pit to visit my wrath upon the living.

 

The lights sparkled garishly off that stupid dragon sculpture.

Maybe there would be a way to send it topping down by the end of the evening.

 

OCC: Morie's robe is based off this pattern.

[GSR]

IC: Soraya [soraya's Practice, pre-party]

She gave the slightly-dazed looking Dasaka a hearty clap on the shoulders. "Don't worry; it'll look brilliant on you." Morie's not going to settle for anything less. "Come by day of the party to pick it up and deal with payment."

She looked over her customer's shoulder; another Dasaka was standing there, looking more than a bit out-of-place. She was dressed exceedingly practically, and one hand was fidgeting with a purse that looked fit to burst, as though she weren't sure what to do with it. Soraya frowned. Either she was about to get her first non-party customer of the day, or whoever this was was going to be about as much a fish out of water there as herself.

She turned back to Akone. "Now, if that will be all, I apologize for the inconvenience, but - as you can see - it's a bit of a madhouse here at the moment, and there are customers waiting." Morie's eyes were burning into the back of her head, and Soraya gave a quick bow. "It's - been an honor serving you." She waved to the other Dasaka to step over.

----------------------------

IC: Soraya [Dragon Room, the night of the party]

The third Plangori to step into the room received no announcement, which suited her just fine. Truth be told, Soraya would rather go home, bury herself in half a dozen pillows, and not wake up for the next week, but duty called.

Her own dress was simple in design, if not in dye; its sleeves were long and tapered, and the hem of its skirt was carefully cut so that it flayed out around her as she walked. Its colors flowed up it like a river; simple brown gave way to burnt bark gave way to an earthy gold, layered and locked upon each other. The addition she'd quickly made for her Kakama sharpened the mask's shape even further, bringing it to a point and accentuating the eye slots while hiding its natural sea green in favor of a hard yellow.

She wasn't exactly sure what had inspired her to try and serve up bird of prey couture, but for a few hours spent in between checking in on the dozen-odd orders that her fellow guests were wearing, she felt like she'd done quite a good job, thank you.

She watched Morie and Shuuan at a distance; she'd heard stories of the pair's occasionally stormy relationship, and while she didn't actually want it to flare up tonight, she couldn't stop from feeling a bit of satisfaction at the look of disdain on her Toroshu's face. Occasionally, there's gonna be things you can't just manage your way out of, Morie.

Around her, the room was slowly filling with guests. Yumiwa and Ayiwah were both there, as were half a dozen other half-familiar faces. She supposed she owed the Chōjo some kind of apology at some point that night, but for now she seemed plenty busy.

Off to one-side, a demon-dressed Dasaka was fidgeting nervously and glancing at the drums. Never a bad idea to meet the entertainment. Soraya slipped away from her fellow clanswomen and up towards the Dasaka, giving a casual nod. "Lemme guess. You're on music tonight?"

Edited May 25, 2014 by GSR

[25K Now!]

IC: Noshima (prior to the party)

 

Noshima stood on the balcony of the Hogo compound, silently watching her clan members enter and exit below her. She was hidden from them and their hustle and bustle, no doubt eager to ensure that Her Imperial Highness' party was to be secure. That was good - she knew she could rely on Kamari to command the clan, especially in her absence. There was absolutely no doubt that her retainer and friend would leave absolutely no stone unturned in keeping the peace at the gathering.

 

Her clothing of choice for the party was simple, yet remarkably noticeable. She had forgone her flowing silver cloak, preferring a dull crimson robe that did nothing to hide her status as the Toroshu of the Hogo clan - wrapping around her flowing sleeves was the image of a flailing draconic creature, its golden body wreathed in navy blue flames, a nod to the supposed origins of her people. A stylised version of her emblem was imprinted onto the front of her clothing, its colour the same as that of the flames. A silver sash wrapped around her waist, its presence symbolising that she was more than just the Hogo leader.

 

It would not do for her, as a guardian of the imperial family, to garner a reputation of sneakiness, after all.

 

All that lay ahead of her now, was waiting for Akone.

[Nuju Metru]

IC: pre-party

Entering the workshop had only augmented Nihi's acute awareness that she was drowning in the claustrophobia of wealthy company. It was hectic inside the shop, with orders being placed here, picked up there; the busyness of the business was intimidating alone - what would Nihi say when it was her turn? She didn't know what she wanted, and she'd only waste someone's time with her indecisiveness and inexperience - but was made all the worse by the stature of the customers around her, who seemed to know exactly what they were looking for.

 

Nihi was able to pick out the main tailor whose name, based on the address Nihi had received, was Soraya, without difficulty: Soraya could be nobody else but the extremely flustered Dashi who seemed to be talking to everyone, and moved like a hummingbird all about her shop. Nihi, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, was quickly drawn to watching the seamstress at work - her efficiency, though borne of extenuating circumstance, was somehow magnetic - and so when Soraya gestured to Nihi, she didn't miss it. The hesitance with which Nihi approached had nothing to do with whether or not she was certain that it'd been her that Soraya had summoned.

 

"Hello," Nihi said haltingly as she got within an appropriate distance. "I'm... here to buy something to wear."

[25K Now!]

IC: Amaki

 

Amaki nearly jumped back in fright at Soraya's approach, surprise evident on her face as she tried to deal with the fact that somebody was trying to talk to her. While logically she knew she would most likely engage in some sort of discussion throughout the party, she didn't expect it to be so soon.

 

"Ah - no, um I," she stammered, "am, uhm, ..."

 

No Amaki noooo.

 

"Um, yes I am," she finished lamely, embarrassed.