It's all so mysterious...
     That probably means that I am going to have even more to do. I am dancing, praying, studying the arts and letters, and chasing after my brothers and sisters. Oh! And did I mention that my brother is about to become king and my father is going away forever? I have a little bit on my plate and now it looks like I will need another bowl...
     Walking quickly down the hall, a riot of bangles and veils, Sabira clutches three books to her chest, a gold bangled bag around her waist full of pencils and erasers. As usual, she is wearing a bit too much make-up for this time of day, but at least her music player is off and her ears are not stuffed with the gold earbuds blasting Bollywood bhangra.
     "So," she glances to her friend, her new friend, her only and best friend, "... are you getting nervous or excited? And have you shown Balthazar what you are doing? Does he know? He should be there to support you," she says with a sister's sense of right and wrong and minding her brother's business. "You, after all, have sacrificed several afternoons to watch him blow things up..."
     "I am thinking of asking that Other Dreadful Boy if he wants to go to the festival dance with me after the coronation. I don't want to be the only girl there without a boy, just because I am an houri and supposed to be pure of heart and soul and body." Sabira rolls her eyes as she strides the marble hall, her bare (but jeweled) feet slapping on the marble. "What is this about anyway? Did she tell you?"

     Maddie is more than a little bit nervous. She is biting her lower lip as she bounces along next to you; she is barefoot, golden chains encircling her ankles, jingling from there and from her wrists with tiny bells. She wears a white cropped top that has been embroidered with gold, and a slit skirt of the same combination of colors. Her unruly auburn hair is piled high on top of her head, held in place (roughly speaking) with golden combs. A bag similar to your own is tied to the sash around her waist, and she holds a book under one arm. "I showed him a little but it distracted him. I'm glad you're here though, I was going to ask you something."
     Maddie glances from side to side. Maybe not now. "I should wait until we're alone," she concedes, lowering her voice to halfway to a whisper as she and you pass some of the guards. She has no veils, unlike you. "I do dance for him sometimes, but you know how it is." And if you don't, she really doesn't want to get explicit; she blushes a bit. She directs her attention instead to the invitation, glancing over it. "You totally should ask that Other Dreadful Boy. Want me to sound him out and make sure he's single again?"
     The note gives very little indication of what it's all about. Maddie shakes her head. "Something to do with protocol, I think? Lessons about the court? I thought your aunts and your mom was covering all that, but I guess not." She makes a face. "Maybe I just need to get her seal of approval, something to do with Baz and all. I dunno. What do you think it's about?"
     Somewhere else, Preston is getting dressed quietly. The summons gives little indication of what to expect; he dresses accordingly, but not in the navy blue 'uniform' of his own design. No, that is not appropriate yet. He is still waiting to hear the results of the seemingly endless tests he's taken, and as such, as a civilian, he has liberty to wear what he wishes. He selects thus a new outfit, one he has had made in secret (or as much secrecy as there ever is when one is a Beloved of a King-to-be); it is thus in shifting, shimmering, slippery silks that he garbs himself, loose trousers the color of a nighttime sky, the so-called midnight blue. The shirt it is paired with fits him almost like a second skin; whispering moonlight-pale silk without buttons or clasps, pulled down over his head. A midnight blue scarf is shot through with silver thread, wrapped snugly around his throat, the ends left trailing fore and aft. Already, his hair has gotten longer; it creeps over his eyebrows as he looks at himself in the mirror. It is golden now, shot through with strands of silver.
     I am changing, still. But I know where I'm rooting myself, and it's okay. I might not be okay with it tomorrow - hell, I might not be okay with it by dinner tonight. But for now, for the moment, it's okay.
     He pulls on a pair of short black boots, letting the trousers spill over the tops. The invitation is picked up, stowed away safely in a pocket, and he goes to the front of the room to pick up a basket he'd had delivered. It is filled with fragrant yellow roses and silver lace blossoms, the dark green ferns around the edges making for a pretty contrast. I wonder if Aediles is coming for me, or if I should head there on my own. Well, I can start for there; if he's coming, he can catch up. Pres heads for the door, content within the cocoon of silk and his own thoughts.

     Sabira rolls her heavily kohled eyes. "Who can say with this family. For all I know, my mother will be there. Sabira, you have on too much make up. Sabira, stop fidgeting. Sabira, why can't you be more like your sisters? Disciplined and ladylike." Again, she rolls her eyes. "Maybe I want to be a wild thing!" she says, her eyes widening -- she would throw out her arms and gesture wildly with her hands, but then she would scatter her things.
     "Maybe. Well, the coronation is coming up. It may be to start work on that, what we can do, cannot do, or maybe we will be helping her personally. She is very friendly. I do like her." Cinnamon eyes look to you and she smirks. "Is he supporting you as he should, or just enjoying to see you shimmy around? I have my eyes on him! If he is not good to you, I will give him a knuckle sandwich. You are my friend. As for the academy, I think you will do well. You have good lines. You have experience. You are much prettier than I am and you do not chew gum in class. They let me in after all!"
     As the two of you round the corner and approach the doors of the soon-to-be queen's chambers, Sabira rolls her eyes again. "Ugh, that Other Dreadful Boy. I wish he were not so cute. I could hate him then and be okay with it. I want a mad affair with JIbril, not these boys. I want to snatch off his veil and have him snatch off mine!" She swishes forward with melodramatic grace, stopping at the door and then smirking at you. "He doesn't even notice me. Other Dreadful Boy won't leave me alone. There is no justice. So... what were you going to ask? I think we are early. I wouldn't want to start a precedent."

     "I'd think if your mom was going to be there we'd have heard about it. Wouldn't the invite have come from her, then? I mean, doesn't she technically like, still outrank Princess Maria?" Maddie frowns, trying to work out the details in her head. She draws to a halt near the door, turning to look Sabira up and down. "Okay, first of all, stop that, you know I'm not prettier'n you, it's all a question of what a guy likes. If you want me to help you with the boys, I can totally do that, you know!"
     She smiles, then, thinking of Jibril. "You should just grab off his veil and make him chase you down," she decrees. "Who knows, maybe mad passionate nookie'll happen next!" She giggles, then hugs Sabira. "Look, just - the next guy who shows up, flirt with him, okay? Make him go wild wondering what's under your veil and if he stands a chance. If you don't practice..."
     She doesn't want to talk about Balthazar. She doesn't want to talk about the academy. She feels herself powerless over both, and so she talks about things that aren't as frightening. "I was going to ask," Maddie blushes a bit. "Um. Well. This is gonna sound bad, but ... I was thinking I'd like to learn how to strip."
     Not twenty feet away, Preston rounds the corner and comes to a halt. He did not expect to see his sister here. He is almost unrecognizable; she is almost unrecognizable, with her harem girl silks and bells and upswept hair. He is actually unrecognizable. His hair is no longer strawberry blonde, he no longer walks with cane or limp. He is not in the slightest dressed as a California boy; his moon-pale skin and his silks only serves to heighten and illuminate his beauty, making him seem ethereal with those silver eyes that see too much and too far.
     I really, really don't want to know why my sister wants to learn to strip. I really, really, really don't. Pres clutches the basket of flowers, then quietly begins to pad towards the door again. Five... four... three...

     There is a loud bang...
     It is not Preston's brain exploding but the sudden dropping of four books and one writing pad. Sabira's hands go to her veiled face, which is now completely scarlet. "I don't think that's a good idea," she whispers. "Why would you want to take off all your clothing for men you do not know? You're a better dancer than that, for starters. Dammit," she says, her hands lowering as she realizes she's dropped everything. Again.
     "I am such a klutz," Sabira sighs. In a carnival of colors, she crouches down, gathering her books and scattered papers. "I do not want to judge you, but what are you thinking?" Sabira groans as she gathers all the bits and pieces, jangling and chiming as she stands up again.
     Sabira doesn't wait for a reply. "You know I love you. You are my sister and my friend. But... first of all, it is below your station. Second of all, there is no way Balthazar would be okay with that. And thirdly, ew! And I shouldn't judge," she says dramatically, her head tilting back with the sentiment, "so... I am not judging. But it's a dead-end career. You can only earn so much money shimmying your breasts in taverns. Not that I know anything about that," she points out.
     But at the sound of footsteps, she gets suddenly quiet and she blushes again, ducking her head shyly. Her dark hair is swept up and braided in an elaborate design, her veils magenta and gold -- some translucent and others opaque, and there seem to be hundreds of them. She looks rather like Itthura, only a much, much younger version. She clears her throat and points. Cute boy, cute boy.

     "I don't!" Maddie's cheeks flush scarlet, and she lowers her voice, bending to pick up Sabira's belongings as well. "Look," she hisses, lowering her voice, "I said I wanted to learn how, not that I want to do it for a living, to - to - to you-know-what. There's only one man I want seeing me naked, thankyouverymuch."
     She sighs, handing over paperwork with an energetic shake of her head. The combs keep her hair in place, but only barely. "I want to know how, though, because even if it's not what I want to do for a living, it's a valid form of dance and expression, just a little more - specialized than others. And if I overlook it, if I overlook it because it's beneath me," she argues hotly, "then how am I, really, learning everything I need to know about dance? And it's not like I can just go out there and learn it on my own! And I figured, um. That you might - or your aunts might - or. Well. Never mind." She blushes, folding her arms over her book and bringing it to her chest, turning at the signal. Blue eyes meet silver eyes without a trace of recognition. She must be too distracted from the near-argument. "Hello!" Maddie says brightly. "Are you lost? Or are you here to see Princess Maria, too?"
     Here's a convenient distraction. She takes a quarter-step back, nudging Sabira forward at the same time. "Now's your chance to practice," she hisses. "I mean, if you think he's cute." Louder, she says, "Princess Sabira knows where everything is, if you need directions!" She smiles encouragingly, bells chiming.
     Mentally, Pres facepalms. We're gonna need a bigger boat. He looks both ways. Where is someone to rescue him now? "Actually, I do have an invitation to see the princess," he answers quietly, bowing that drawing-room bow. "Your highness. A pleasure to meet you. I do hope I haven't intruded upon your conversation with the lady." Aediles, where the hell are you? Adriano? Hell, I'd settle for Balthazar right about now. Someone set this up on purpose, didn't they...
     He straightens, righting the basket from where it's slightly tilted. "I gather from what's been said that you two also are here to see her highness. Would you like me to knock, to announce our presence?" Pres lifts a hand to sweep his hair out of his eyes. I know I look different, but I didn't think it was that different.

     Oh. The look on Sabira's face says it all, and she touches Maddie's arm in a gesture of apology. But then she is booted forward and the surprise makes her drop her books again, conveniently after the young, beautiful man has made such a nice bow. She tilts her head to glance back to Maddie. I.want.to.die
     Her first instinct is to run away, but that's not really an option...
     "Um..." Sabira says, turning fifteen different hues of embarrassed. "Hi. Oh, yes." She sighs, frustrated, and removes her veil. She looks like a smaller version of Zafirah, but with heavier kohled eyes and a nose piercing. "I'm a complete klutz. I don't know why I bother." Bending in a riot of colors, she goes back to picking up her books and papers again. "Sure, knock. We need to give the nymphs enough warning so they can dress themselves," she rolls her eyes.
     Standing up, her face still flushed, she gestures to her much more graceful friend. "This is Madison. And... I guess so. My sister just told us to be here...so...." So here we are. Sabira whirls about mouthing fuck me and then knocks on the door.
     I am at the docks... is everything alright? Aediles glances toward the basilica, pausing his survey of his lieutenant's report.
     Yes, Preston? That is Adriano.
     I had nothing to do with it, I assure you. And that is Balthazar. Now what are we talking about?

     Oh god. Now Sabira is not alone in blushing. Preston does as well. Sorry, I didn't realize this thing was on. His cheeks are burnished bright, and he sighs quietly to himself. Princess Maria invited me for some kind of class and I just ran into my sister and another young lady unexpectedly in the hallway is all. She hasn't recognized me yet and they're talking about stripping. It has the hallmarks of a sitcom episode waiting for a punchline is all; I didn't realize I was on the party line. Sorry for interrupting your work, folks. Nothing to see here.
     His embarrassment is immense. If he were alone, he'd be cringing a little. As it is, he holds himself gallantly upright, calm save for the flaming cheeks. "Then I'll knock, certainly. I am quite familiar with - Madison," the use of the full name makes his lips twist slightly, and he steps back to allow Sabira to knock. "If you will allow me to put in my two cents unasked, even though I know it's none of my business, I don't think stripping's a good idea. Entirely aside from anything else, uh - well, never mind." He almost says dad would have a fit and decides against it. It's not quite what his father had in mind for keeping an eye on his sister. He opens his mouth to introduce himself, then looks to the door instead. If this is a sitcom, something should be happening right about now.
     Inside, Maria is clad respectably in a gown befitting her status, all in royal silks and velvets of burgundy and dark gold. Her hair's been braided most strictly, and she's just enjoying a cup of tea. "I do hope they won't be too late. We've got a lot to cover, after all. Are the nymphs drawing up their lists as I asked them to, Nox?"

     At the docks, Captain Aediles smiles and looks over the list. I look forward to hearing all about it later. Shall we meet for a drink?
     And from the gryphon stables, Adriano grins as he inspects the gait of a recovering animal: Sounds like you're having a better day than I am...
     From a somewhat closer position, there is the sizzle of the Sun King's thoughts: What? There is absolutely no way I would ever let that happen. I would have to kill... basically everyone. A moment of silence, and then: And... no worries. It takes practice is all.
     Sabira is suddenly emboldened and comforted by the fact that she's not alone in mortification. "I think belly dancing is more technical," she offers, reaffixing her veil. She bows her head, glancing back to Preston. "You know who we are," she tries to flirt a little as she waits for the door to open. "And you are? I mean, if we are going to be receiving the same lecture, we may as well become acquainted..."
     The door is opened by a fully clothed Itthura. She touches her forehead and then her heart in an Eastern greeting as she sees Sabira. She opens the door widely, gesturing all three of you to enter. In the luxurious chambers of the future queen, an armored, winged woman, her wings a black-violet, bows. "Yes, your highness. Rosanna and Penelope have gone to the market as you asked. Delilah and Mana are working on the lists." Nox looks up, her dark eyes fixing on Itthura and the opening of the door. "Your guests have arrived. Shall I prepare lunch?"

     Maddie looks confused. Preston looks familiar, but ... She shakes her head. She steps up behind Sabira and hisses, "Does he liiike you? Do you like him? Is he-" The door opens, cutting her off. She meeps quietly, hopping back and blushing.
     Sure, a drink sounds good, Pres answers silently, willing the crimson to back down a bit. He smiles halfway at Sabira, and again opens his mouth to answer when the door opens again. He gives an apologetic look and bows for the girls to go first, taking the time to finish the conversations in his head. Sorry to hear your day's sucking so much. Aediles is talking about meeting for drinks later. Want to come with? he asks Adriano - at least, he hopes he's asking Adriano. To Balthazar he adds, Well, I agree with you, but I figured saying dad'd kill her would just make her want to go do it. But I walked in on the middle of a conversation, so who knows what they were talking about. Sorry again. I'll stop, uh, spamming.
     "Please," Maria tells Nox with a grateful smile. Good. All the nymphs are out of the way. Preston might be disappointed, but that is not the purpose of this, after all. She remains seated, smiling at the trio as they enter. "Princess Sabira; Lord and Lady West. How good of you to join me. I do hope that my invitation found you all in good health." The Queen-to-be looks serene, with no hint of the previous day's excesses anywhere in sight. She rises once they are all inside, holding out her hands to her sister-in-law. "How are you, dear? You look very colorful today."
     Maddie boggles for a moment, torn between respectful greetings and admiration of the future Queen and Lord West. "Huh?"

     Sabira steps forward as the queen-to-be, her sister-in-law, offers her hands. She looks around and then dumps her books on an empty chair. She takes Maria's hands and lifts them to her forehead. Lord West?
     "Um... I'm okay." Considering the amount of colors in her garments, she is actually dressed fairly demurely. There is no untoward show of skin. "Apart from mortification and embarrassment, the usual. How are you, sister?" She gives her sister-in-law the customary kiss upon the cheek greeting of family, before drawing away.
     "You know Madison and... I'm sorry," she says to the cute blonde. "I dropped my books and embarrassed myself," she rolls her kohled eyes, "before I could get your name. I guess we're all in class then?" She glances to her sister with a bit of a smirk.
     Oh, it's not all bad. Adriano. A wounded gryphon but he will survive. Still, it's not stripping. I will meet you, then, in our room. And if that's not where you are... tell me where you are and I will find you both.
     There is nothing more from Aediles and Balthazar.

     "There is no reason to be embarrassed, Sabira." Maria laughs, kissing her sister-in-law gently and then turning to greet the others. "Hello, Preston; it's good to see you. Oh! Flowers? For me? Well, thank you very much. These will come in handy, actually." She carefully takes the basket of yellow roses with their silver lace spray and green fern stems, setting it to the side before she greets him also with a kiss to the cheek. He's so cute, I just want to ruffle his hair.
     She turns to Maddie next, smiling and holding out both hands to take Maddie's own. "Madison. It is good to meet you at last. Balthazar speaks of you so warmly; please, do come and sit down. I'm sure we'll become great friends."
     Preston blushes at the kiss to his cheek, bowing diffidently before he takes the offered seat. Sabira is given a small smile. "Sorry about that," he murmurs. He holds out a hand. "Pres. I'm Maddie's brother. Uh. She wasn't expecting me, as you can tell."
     When this is over I'm going for a long, long walk and I'm going to pretend my family is normal.
     Maddie's thoughts, oddly enough, are along similar lines; she's recovered fairly well for having gaped, however, smiling at Maria with immediate warmth. "Hello! Baz hasn't told me much about you; I'm sorry if I'm too casual, but I'll try my best not to be," she says honestly. "It's great to meet you, though. I'm sorry, I didn't bring anything; I didn't think of it. I hope you're not mad."
     She keeps sneaking looks at Pres and at Sabira. She's confused, but trying to keep it under wraps. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. What the HELL, Pres? What are you doing here?
     Maria laughs, shaking her head and gently leaning in to kiss Maddie's cheek as well. She's deeply involved with her brother-in-law, after all. "It's fine," she reassures the younger girl. "This is not intended to be a formal environment. Preston brought me flowers in thanks for lunch the other day, that's all." Lunch. And other delicacies. "Why don't you go join the others on the couches? I'll have lunch brought in shortly, and we'll get started as soon as our last student arrives." Last student? Apparently so.

     "I'm not normally this clumsy," Sabira says, taking his hand in an odd handshake -- not really sure how but she is earnest in the application, grasping his hand with both of hers. "Really. I am a dance student and in the discos of Mumbai, I am something of a celebrity. You know, when I'm not making a complete fool out of myself. It is nice to meet you, finally. I never made it to the family outing in Wales..."
     Finally, you have met it, face-to-face: a creature who can out-talk your little sister. Her inflection and accent is decidedly Eastern, possibly Hindi, with a dash of British. "I didn't know you were here, of all places. Anyway, you are welcome. This should be ...interesting. I like you hair."
     That seems to be the running theme.
     But catching herself give a BOY a COMPLIMENT, Sabira blushes and scurries into the room, finding a seat upon an unclaimed sofa and promptly claiming it, lugging all of her books with her.
     Itthura ensures the door is closed and she and Nox move gracefully, seamlessly, as if they are floating more than walking, and they begin to arrange tables for a midday meal. Itthura and Nox smile to Preston, giving him a familiar look. They have made his acquaintance.
     One could say...
     "Last student?" Sabira quirks, sitting up in a swirl of colors. She removes the veil over her hair, her midriff visible only for a moment before the veil is wrapped sari-like across her chest. She is so demurely rebellious. "Who else is coming?"
     That someone else is extremely quiet. Still small hands take a selection of dates and figs off of the plates before they are even carried into the main room. And two blood oranges. And a roll. The gangly youth, quickly becoming all arms and legs, coltishly appears. Behind him trots a raven. But it is neither Aeron nor Bran. This raven is mechanical, though he seems real, right down to the last feather.
     Anierin sweeps his dark bangs away from his eyes as he quietly enters. He is dressed in broadcloth navy blue pants and a grey tunic, stained a bit from his morning adventures in the meadow, with grey hide slouchy boots that thud a size too big upon his feet. He has assured his tailor that he will grow into them.
     "Oooh, Ani!" Sabira says of her youngest brother as she heads over to him and wrestles a kiss out of him. "You cannot sneak in around me. I will always find you. Oh my, you are getting tall. You are almost as tall as I am, and I shall only ever be this tall." She smiles to him as he squirms (at first) and then reluctantly gives her a hug.
     That was so undignified. Anierin takes a seat on another sofa, not near his overly affectionate and loud sister. His large blue eyes quietly (perhaps even dreamily) look upon the others. There is one there that he doesn't know. He begins to peel one of the blood oranges, his raven hopping up beside him to catch the leavings.

     He blinks a bit as he hand is shaken, shaken, shaken with both hands to his one. He smiles though, bemused but not particularly put off; his sisters do talk a lot, and he's had years of experience with that (a lifetime, in fact). "Thanks, glad you like it," Pres answers quietly, offhanded and a little embarrassed about it. "It's new. I'm not a celebrity at all. I think in most places I'm best known for being Maddie and Gillian's brother." Although not here. But he doesn't mention that.
     Sabira flies off, leaving him blinking again - but he is distracted by the entrance of Nox and Itthura. He smiles at them a bit more sheepishly, a bit uncertainly, and blushes, lowering his eyes to his lap. He has no idea how to cover this situation. Morning-afters are easy, compared to that. Fortunately, he is saved from his embarrassment by the entrance of Anierin; he sits up, lifting a hand in a wave. "Hi again," Pres greets. "Good to see you. I talked to my dad, by the way."
     Maddie meekly (for her) goes to take a seat on a sofa, giving Sabira an oh my god kind of look. She is completely and totally out of her depth. Her brother turns up, her best friend is flirting with him on her own unrecognizing urging, she's talking to a Queen-to-be... "Thank you for inviting me, anyway. Oh, hello." She gives Anierin a bright, friendly smile tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "She isn't quite sure who he is - she isn't sure who anyone is, anymore. She mentally girds her loins and stands to walk over to him anyway. "Hi! I'm Maddie. What's your name?" It's the approach she's been using since kindergarten, mostly with success. That she's taller than Anierin and wearing clothes that wouldn't look out of place on a king's chief harem girl doesn't even make her blink.
     Her brother knowing him does, though. Maddie blinks at Pres, then homes in on the last bit. "You talked to - what did you talk to him about?" It isn't snappish. It's just stunned. She rolls to disbelieve and rolls a critical fumble.
     "Anierin, dear." Maria smiles at her youngest brother-in-law with great affection. "I'm glad you made it. I know you and your fathers are very busy right now, what with all the preparations." She moves to where he is seated to kiss the top of his head, then steps back again. "I see there's some introductions to be done, so I'll take care of that first, and then we'll begin with our lessons. Princess Sabira and Prince Anierin are my sister and brother by marriage; Crown Prince Gruffydd ap Iowerth's youngest sister and brother, respectively. Prince and Princess, Lord Preston West and Lady Madison West are brother and sister as well. Lord West," she smiles again, with just as much affection, "allow me to be the first to inform and to congratulate you on the results of your testing for the military, by the way. You've tested in at the naval rank of a lieutenant; Captain Aediles has already put in the paperwork to have you transferred under his command on his ship, assuming you accept the commission."
     "Lady Madison is studying with Princess Sabira in the hopes of receiving admission to the Academy of Arts," Maria continues serenely, "while Prince Balthazar works with the cavalry. Which I believe covers all the germane articles; this all applies as well to why you are all here. You are here because you all hold sufficient placement and rank within the palace that you will not be able to remain unbesmirched by politics and the day to day and longer term intrigues of the court. While you can and in some cases have been learning about the etiquette and form and function of the court, these will not on their own help you to follow the hidden language and motion; this is something which you must learn to recognize, even if you choose entirely to eschew its use, both for your own protection and for the protection of those whom you hold dear, for so long as you remain present in the court and even beyond its scope."
     Maria settles herself upon a chair, poised and smiling. "Now, if there are any questions, I encourage you to ask them. Shall we begin?"

     Sabira looks at her with a little bit of a shrug. What can I do? The boy is cute? She leans in to her and takes her hand, partly because that is what girls do here and partly for her friend's reassurance. She looks so shocked! Sabira smiles to Anierin, and makes a motion for him to sit up, subconsciously ignoring that this is what her mother does to her to make her crazy.
     Anierin sits up, looking from his sister to the new girl. Her name causes a light to switch on in his mind. There is an obvious recognition on his young and beautiful face. He shakes her hand. "I am Anierin." He glances from her to the raven. "And this is Ambiorix." He is silent, tipping his head as his sister-in-law makes the formal introductions. "Ambiorix is going to take notes for me, sister." He glances to Maddie. "You are Maddie. I have heard about you. It is a pleasure to meet you. I hear my brother is in love with you." Blue eyes look at her as if to take some measure of this girl, but he's not unfriendly. He is quiet, extremely bright, with very formal language, unlike Sabira.
     Turning to look to Preston, Anierin scoots over to make room on the sofa. "You may sit with me if you like, Preston. Congratulations on your test. Lieutenant is quite notable. Perhaps sometime we can discuss my plans for a mechanized fleet. And... thank you... after class I would like to know more about the tickets to the game we discussed."
     Sabira smiles to Ani. "Oh good, Ambiorix can take notes for me too. You are so smart, Ani." She bites her lower lip as her sister-in-law begins to speak. She sits cross-legged on the sofa, her hands folded primly as she tilts her face to listen. "I am ready, sister... here," she whispers to Maddie, "...sit by me..."
     As all begin to settle in, Itthura and Nox reappear, their clothing gossamer light, their wings -- one set violet-black, the other set dove grey -- skimming the marble floor. They bring in the service of tea and the beginnings of lunch.
     Anierin begins unloading his pockets from all of his earlier snacking: there are two blood oranges, one of which he is eating, a handful of dates and nuts, three figs, and one buttered loaf. He looks to the two newcomers as he begins to spread the sweet ripe fig upon the buttered bread, licking his fingers now and then.

     Maddie blushes brightly, but agrees, "I'm Maddie. I hope he's in love with me," she answers forthrightly, though calmly enough (especially for her), "as I'm pretty hopelessly in love with him. It's great to meet you." Lieutenant? What? Blue eyes dart to Pres, then away again. It is all very bewildering. She bites her lip a bit, shooting Pres a look.
     "Thanks," Pres nods to Anierin with a faint smile and changes seats. Why not? It's only polite, after all. "I'd be glad to discuss them with you, and sure, after class." He makes himself comfortable, looking up at Maria, absorbing her explanations along with the introductions. "No questions here," he volunteers. "But I didn't bring anything to write on or with. Is there any available? I'll try to be better-prepared next time."
     "Certainly, dear. There's paper and some pens in the box on the table; help yourself if you need it." Maria takes up a cup of tea and sets back with it. "I see there are no questions, so I will assume that you all understand why it is important that you learn this. As such, I'll begin with Preston's kind gift." She takes up the basket of flowers. "Now, then. Pretend for the moment that there have been no direct ties between myself and Preston; he is a lord, of course, but beyond the ties of court, there have been no personal encounters. How would one interpret this gift?"

     "Well," Sabira says as she nibbles on her eraser, "... I think it shows that he recognizes your station and it is a modest show of graciousness at your hospitality..."
     Anierin looks to Maddie and Preston, lastly Maria. "Yellow tends to symbolize friendship. He might wish an alliance with you, or wishes to show you in a subtle way that he is on your side."
     Ambiorix doesn't click or chatter. In fact, there's no evidence that he's taking notes at all. But the bird's nearly living eyes are black-bright and paying attention to each speaker.
     Nox and Itthura move silently. Now each participant has his or her own small container of tea, a cup, the usual amenities, and an assortment of light finger foods, including dolmas, cheese, fruit, nuts and small tea sandwiches.
     Anierin looks at the flowers. "The type of flowers might convey something deeper. They were brought in a basket. That indicates that he put a great deal of thought into how the flowers were to be received, which means the alliance is of some importance to him. Or that you have something that he wants, if one prefers to be cynical."
     He is the oldest twelve year old in the world...
     Anierin nibbles at the blood orange until there is nothing left. Sabira is too busy writing down everything that Anierin has said to notice anything else about the flowers.

     She is feeling intimidated. Not just by the twelve year old, although perhaps especially by the twelve year old. Maddie fidgets, pulling a fold of her skirt into her lap and rubbing it back and forth between her fingers. They're just flowers. Guys bring girls flowers all the time. Why does it mean - well, I guess I'll say the obvious. "That he wants to sleep with you?"
     Preston had been lifting a cup of tea to his lips. Now he chokes, narrowly avoiding spitting it out onto Anierin. As it is, his shirt will never be the same. "Sorry," he mumbles, grabbing the nearest napkin and dabbing at the silk. "Sorry. Um. Yeah. Sorry."
     It would be less painful if it weren't true. That is less obvious than that his face is bright red with embarrassment. God, Maddie...
     Maddie flinches a little bit, but holds determinedly onto her statement. "Well, he's a guy. It doesn't matter if it's at court or not. Guys buy girls flowers because they want to sleep with them, or at least because they want to date them. I don't think that's going to be different from where we're from!" She leans forward to help herself to some of the sandwiches. She's starving.
     "Very good, Sabira, Anierin." Maria smiles approvingly, then has to suppress a laugh at Maddie's blunt suggestion and at Preston's reaction. It's not without sympathy, but her eyes are bright with the humor of it. Oh, dear. Poor Preston. "And very true, Madison. You've all pointed out some good points, but let's take it a little further. First of all, a seduction - however discreet or otherwise - implies an alliance of sorts, even if potentially temporary, so your statements don't contradict one another's, Anierin, Madison. Sabira, it's correct that it can recognize my station, although it is worth noting that it would be taken as a fairly modest overture rather than something bolder, if it is taken as more than face value; as the future Queen, it is likely that I receive flowers on a daily basis, or could buy them for myself quite easily. It is considerate and thoughtful, at face value, rather than an attempt to sway me. Politically, however, if he is trying to gain something from me by it, he is likely masking his intentions and taking a longer view, as it is a modest tribute. If he were seeking to make a grand display and really get my attention, he'd likely put more into it, one way and another. Now..."
     She sips her tea, then sets it aside, clasping her hands in her lap and looking at each pupil in turn with a tolerant smile. She has no idea how like her mother she is in the moment. "How might this be a hostile gesture?"

     Anierin's expression is blank at the drink sputtering, blushing and other reactions. He simply has no frame of reference for that. He bites his lip at the word seduction. While he might know what he means, he does not know how to apply that definition. "Maybe you hate yellow flowers. In which case, it would be insulting. Or maybe in your village, yellow flowers had a different meaning."
     Sabira notes the blushing with a raised eyebrow. She detects the perfume of gossip! But it will take more than a blush to know. Biting her lower lip in thought, and, to be honest, in uncertainty, Sabira glances to Maddie. "You could be allergic to flowers, and could grow sick?"
     Anierin actually smiles at that. He thinks it's a silly answer. He looks to Maria to see if that's true...
     Nox takes a position upon a pillow, becoming another part of the chamber's ornamentation. She smiles at the youngest prince and saves a special look for Preston. Itthura arrives with a rag and begins dabbing at the spill. She smells of honeysuckle. She smiles to Preston as she dutifully serves him. The stains will not set in your silk.
     Anierin looks to Maddie. "Do you have to have flowers in order to sleep?" He does not know what sleep with means in that context. Tilting his head, he looks at her with thoughtful blue eyes, a touch of bewilderment among the ocean color. "I would think it would be more comfortable to have the flowers in a vase beside the bed and a bed all to yourself. Though, I do like sleeping in papa's bed when it is stormy..."
     Sabira puts her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. She glances to Maddie and sputters: "Um.... that's another class, Ani..."
     Anierin looks to Preston and Maria. I don't get it. What is so funny?

     Pres gives Itthura a grateful look, and lowers his gaze from Nox's. He is trying to keep his blushing under control, after all. He turns to Anierin and explains in a matter of fact tone of voice, "Sleep with is a common euphemism for intimate behavior between lovers. So in this case, if a man finds a woman attractive, he might send her flowers as a way of signaling his romantic or amorous interest. Breaking it down further, you could consider it a form of bribery or flattery: I like you, so I give you something you like in the hopes that it will make you like me back."
     He continues to address Anierin rather than giving his thoughts to the entire room. It is somehow easier; the blush recedes, and he sounds and appears more content, calmer, more confident. "It doesn't have to be a bad thing. If you do like someone, you should do things to show it; the difficulty, and hence the need for this class, rests in that people can take these same actions with insincere motives. So a man might send flowers to a woman he finds attractive but has no use for once he's gotten what he wanted. I guess in a way that could be hostile, though I don't think that's what the princess means."
     Maddie doesn't pick up on the gossip, although she does give Pres a half-puzzled, half-resentful look. "I think Pres pretty much covered it," she tells Anierin. "Sorry about that. Slang from back home." She looks to Maria as well. "I guess it depends. If he knows anything about you, or dug up old incidents from your past, maybe you hate yellow roses and they remind you of something painful or humiliating? It could be a - a message that way, I guess, that he knows." She wrinkles her nose, discontent with her answer. She's no good at this. This is Gillian territory. She takes a bite out of her tea sandwich unhappily, one foot tapping while she idly shreds a hole in her skirt without noticing.
     "Very well said," Maria agrees generally, remaining serene and unruffled. "You're all correct, of course. Context is very important. For example, in our cultures, yellow roses mean friendship most often. It does not preclude being open to other kinds of relationships and alliances, but it would be most likely taken as a sincere and respectful offer of friendship. However, roses do have thorns, and prickly leaves, and in certain cultures, the flowers and plants with which it is paired, and even the container in which it is given can alter the meaning considerably; and in some cultures, yellow roses don't mean friendship at all. To the Zoar, for example, yellow roses are a symbol of war. That would put Preston's gift to me in a considerably different light, if it had been given to me by the Zoar ambassador!"
     "Similarly," Maria continues, shaking back the tight braid, "it could be a threat in other ways. Even if I were not allergic, a cunning adversary could apply poison to the thorns or leaves, so that when I handled them it would seep into my skin. If I cut myself, that would be a bonus; the poison would then act that much faster. Alternatively, he could treat it with something relatively harmless but annoying, such as an oil which would cause an unsightly rash to spread across my body and put me in some discomfort. If he did so the day before an important vote, that could be a problem, couldn't it!"
     "Speaking more simply," Maria continues, "it also depends on who I am; not my title, but my personality. Some people will tend to be arrogant and think that their place in the court entitles them to something. Ultimately, this is a mistake even if - especially if - it is technically correct. To act entitled often means to set oneself up as a target. However, acting too humble is also a bad idea. Can you tell me why?"

     Anierin opens his mouth and then closes it. He glances to Maddie, considering what he knows about her and his brother. For a moment he looks confused, but then that look fades to something more bemused. He picks at the skin of another blood orange and doesn't answer the next question posed.
     Sabira looks to Maddie, a slight roll of her eyes as if to say: boys! She considers her sister's next question. "I think if you act too humble you either give off the appearance of being unconfident, maybe even weak. Or maybe just fake, like: she can't possibly be that nice and humble; she must be hiding something or she's just insincere."
     "I don't like talking about myself," Anierin notes. "Actions are more truthful. Anybody can say anything. That doesn't make it so."
     "I don't think it makes you any less of a target seeming humble all the time," Sabira goes on. "It's probably just as bad as being arrogant. Maybe even worse because then everyone thinks you are insincere and weak." She looks between Maddie and Preston. "I don't run around acting like I am God's gift. So how do you know when to be humble and when not to be, sister? And the way you say it, I don't think I want to accept any gifts!"
     Anierin looks to Maddie, his dark eyebrows knitting. "You are tearing a hole in your skirt. Do you want me to fix it?" He glances to Preston, curious and interested in what he might have to say on all of this. "Thank you for the explanation. I don't really know about what happens between ... you know..." he blushes a little and looks uncomfortable. "But...I think I understand..."

     "The details aren't important," Pres tells Anierin. "They're different for everybody anyway. Variations within a theme. I'd say that acting humble all the time would make people distrust you, make you think you're insincere even when you're trying to be sincere. Arrogance might not be the best way to go, but if you're going to make a mistake on one or the other direction of that line, go with appearing strong."
     He's calmer now; focusing as if he's having a conversation with Anierin is making it easier. It leaves the elephant in the room (of his relationship with Gruffydd) unspoken and unannounced. "I guess different approaches might be better for different circumstances, though."
     Maddie is soothed a bit by Sabira's reaction, smiling a little. She starts in surprise at Anierin's statement. "Huh? Darn!" She sighs. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was doing it." She bites her lip, tucking her errant hand under her thigh for safekeeping. "Thanks, I just - yeah, anyway." She flushes slightly. "I'd say acting too humble means you're making yourself a target. I mean, if you're that small and weak and dumb and the rest, people might take you at your word about it, right? If you act like a victim, you're going to get treated like one."
     "You don't have to refuse all gifts," Maria smiles at Sabira, picking up a dolma. "But you should scrutinize it before accepting it. There are, in fact, times when it's better not to accept the gift at all! Accepting a gift, while it's a passive action, can be taken to imply accepting a greater transaction. For the same reasons that officials are not supposed to accept gifts from merchants - even if they remain honest and true to their trust, it gives the appearance that they can be bribed. This doesn't mean that you cannot accept any gifts, however, and much of this will be less applicable to you than it would to me, to Gruffydd, to Balthazar. But you need to know it anyway, and you need to know why you need to know this. Knowing it means you can make decisions for yourself, in both the larger arena of court, and in the smaller arena of day to day. Now... why are some reasons why you might come under some form of attack, veiled or otherwise?"

     "I can fix it," Anierin quietly offers her. You seem nice. And he is very earnest. While Maria continues with the lesson, Anierin stands up. He is already promising height -- like his brothers -- but he is still that gangly, coltish boy-build. Black hair flops in his eyes as he carefully steps around the coffee table (tea table really since it's usually holding tea). He doesn't blush as he touches her skirt -- he would if he meant anything by it. His fingers move over the fabric, making it whole again as he mutters, "Because we are either members of, related to, or in relationships with the royal family. That is the principle reason. See?" he says to Maddie. "It is fixed. Sorry," he says to Maria, and he returns to his seat.
     Anierin smiles a little to Maddie before settling back down beside Preston. The blushes are gone and his expression is a bit more engaged. But he holds back any other commentary to let others answer.
     Sabira looks at Maddie. "There may be any number of reasons. Jealousy at position or talent or skill or ...you know... because they think you might be favored over them for your connections. Or past family squabbles. I mean, it's like the East Enders a bit, or Melrose Place."

     Maddie blinks, watching Anierin cautiously, then smiles at him brightly. "Thanks! I wish I knew how to do that. That looks really really useful!" She looks to Maria a bit cautiously, still tense with this 'teacher'. "What Sabira said. Plus some people are just jealous if they think you've got something that they don't. They don't care what you did to get it, it doesn't count."
     Pres has nothing to add for the moment. He picks up a food item he doesn't recognize, eyeing it and then sniffing it before taking a cautious bite. I need a stiff drink...
     "Our familial relations are a large part of it. It is what draws us into the spotlight. It is not the only reason why we might end up in the spotlight, but it is something useful, valuable to know - even if we did not hold out current positions." Maria folds her hands in her lap, looking at the four students. "So... with that in mind... any questions?"

     Anierin doesn't want to go first again. He looks at Maddie, at Sabira, and then to Preston. "I have a lot of reasons," he offers. He says it matter-of-factly, as if he is quite sure he will be mistrusted, and that he is at peace with it. He's not. But it is a fact. "How do you know how to trust someone, sister? I don't have friends my own age, I never have really. Not that aren't mechanical."
     Blue eyes drift down to Ambiorix, who tilts his head and one life-like black eye to each person as he or she speaks. He misses not a beat, that Ambiorix. "You have friends," he says to Sabira. "How did you know that you could trust Maddie?"
     "Well," Sabira says, nibbling on walnuts. "I didn't know. We just started talking and she seemed nice and needed some help getting to where she was going and after talking to her we just became good friends. We clicked. But I do not think as much as you do, Ani. I am not a thinker! I am a dancer. But I can see how, yes, I need to think about this, especially as one day ...who knows... God willing... I will be a famous dancer. I will need to know how to recognize people who will be kind and those who won't. You know... read body language. Right?" she says, looking to Maddie.
     Anierin looks around to the adults in the room. Even the youngest among them is six years older than he is -- a world away from twelve. "I do not have any questions about gifts or flowers or etiquette, sister," he says and he begins to nibble at his dates and walnuts. "I make my own flowers."
     Sabira could just hug him. It is obvious he is upset by something. But that is just the sort of demonstrative fuss that Anierin hates. She gives him a reassuring smile and throws a walnut at him to get him to laugh.
     And while Anierin does not laugh, he does look to his sister. And there is a softening to his expression. He tilts his head and looks to the others a moment before looking to the floor and his foot kicking against the sofa.

     "It's hard to make friends if you focus on what you have and what you think other people might want." Maddie shrugs a little, looking at Anierin closely. She frowns slightly, then explains, "It's easy to get all wound up in it. The important thing is to know who you want to be, more than who you are, even. And pick people who fit with that. Don't turn people away or chase them off unless they give you reason to, you know? It's kind of hard. You have to protect yourself, at least a little, but you shouldn't shut them out because they might suck."
     She pushes her hair back over her shoulder where it's come stragglingly undone, muttering under her breath at it. Picking up her drink, she takes a dainty sip, then looks at Anierin again, frowning not at him but at her thoughts. "So ... if somebody's nice to you, accept they're being nice. Try not to question it too much, but don't let them take advantage of you. I kind of try to use the mirror approach. I try to treat people the way I want to be treated, and if they don't do the same, then I don't hang out with them. I don't always manage it," Maddie admits honestly, "but it's what I try to do. If they treat me like crap, then okay, enough of that." She shrugs. "Anyway, usually when people are two-faced, it doesn't take that long before you find out. People talk and compare notes, y'know?"
     Preston nods, leaning back in his seat and cupping his glass to his lips with both hands. He closes his eyes as he murmurs, "Reciprocation. It doesn't have to be even. We've all got different skills and different resources. But if it's not of a comparable nature and comparable level, then, yeah, you're probably be taken advantage of and it's better to scale back and just - step away, kind of." The Wests clearly have some experience with this sort of thing. He doesn't say anything further, though, leaving his eyes closed although he lowers his glass to hold it between his knees in both hands.
     Maria looks from face to face, considering and weighing each person in turn. "Patience is the hardest part, perhaps. It's like planting a garden; you plant your seeds and you wait to see what kind of fruit and flower comes forth. I think you all have a good aptitude and are seeing things relatively clearly. This is a good point for us to wrap this class for now, and we can discuss more next time. Are there any questions for me before we halt for the day? I'll want to speak with each of you one on one," she smiles, "although not all about the same things, or even about the class. There's a great deal to be seen to, after all, before the coronation."

     Sabira smiles to Maddie. "I think that is a good point. And you, too, Preston. I do the same, Ani. I give trust. And then if the person does not deserve that trust or love, then I remove it. I think you are thinking too much." She smiles to her youngest brother, very sweetly, very dearly.
     Anierin has such a thoughtful face. Pretty yet in youth, that thoughtfulness makes him seem so much wiser than eleven or twelve. But he is just turning twelve after all. He looks from Maddie to Preston to his sister.
     Tilting his head, he pats Ambiorix on the head. Ambiorix gives his feathers a shake and hops up onto his boy-master's shoulder. "Thank you," is all he says. He has heard what each has said; it's even recorded for later use.
     He is the first to rise as Maria begins to dismiss the class. "Go to my room and give your secrets to the shell. The blue one, not the pink one. The pink one is not working." Ambiorix caws and actual caw and pushes off the boy's shoulder, flying first to the bedroom and then to an open window to the veranda. "This was helpful," he says, so wise, so thoughtful, too aged for twelve. He turns to Preston. "I will let papa know you have spoken with your father. I do not know if we will be able to go to New York first. I would like to. I will ask. Thank you," he blushes a little, and then twists to look at Maddie. "It was nice meeting you, Maddie." He holds out his still small hand.
     Sabira is also packing up. She looks to Maria -- me too? -- as she stows her pencils, her pad, and begins to veil her hair again. "There is so much to do! We have a dance to prepare," she smiles to Maddie. "I am so excited. And the games! It will be so massive. I will be here," she says to Maria as she adjusts her veils. "I am not going back and forth to Mumbai. But you call, I come anyways."

     "It was nice to meet you, too." Maddie takes the small hand and shakes it, smiling cheerfully - and, truth be told, with relief. Class is over. She's free again. "Feel free to stop in whenever! Especially if you like board games. I love board games. And jigsaw puzzles."
     She nods to Maria a bit more mutedly, although with a stubborn and suspicious chin. It's going to involve more classes. She can sense it. She smells it. But she'll be there anyway, either way. "Thank you for inviting me," Maddie says politely. She turns to Sabira, clasping her friend's hand. "We have a bunch of stuff to do! And we have to go back to the perfume seller. I'm out of oil. And I really want some new clothes..." She's such a girl. But the chatter helps to conceal and soothe her nervousness.
     Pres nods to Anierin. "No rush. These things take time to set up anyway, so when you have a firm date, let me know and I'll let dad know. He's the one who'll be setting that up, anyway." He opens his eyes and smiles, sitting up with his hands still clasped between his knees around the glass. Stray locks of hair fall to filter over his vision, the pale of it glinting silver for a moment in the light.
     He looks to Maria, then looks at his sister. "Hey," he tells Maddie quietly. "When you have some time, let me know, okay? We should catch up." Before you find things out the hard way...
     Maria looks at Preston and smiles, although she conceals her emotions. He is so sweet. I am sure the girls will want to devour him. It is just as well only Nox and Itthura are here right now. She takes in everything but does not interrupt, turning to Sabira. "Of course," she agrees. "We'll have a sit-down and discuss who needs to be where and when and," her mischief shows for a moment, "how much we can get away with. But for now, you should find a little liberty." She winks and picks up her glass.

     Sabira smiles to Maddie as she clasps her friend's hand. "So much. But yes, first, the shopping. Preston, very nice to meet you. If you want," she looks between the both of you, "...maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow? Maybe even catch a few games?"
     When you are the youngest, it is easy to get lost in the shuffle. As conversations swirl on, Anierin looks among them all. Sabira is talking; no one will hear me. "I like games," he says quietly. "But... I do not want to interrupt you," he flashes a little pink, "... you know, your time with Balthazar. I don't want to be in the way."
     Or a fifth or sixth wheel either.
     "Okay," he says to Preston and then he is looking to Maria. He lifts his still small hand for a quiet wave, moving around the table. Tea cookies seem to magically disappear as his quick hands (some of his relatives are master thieves) make quick work of them, putting them in his pockets for later. He has grown so much. His walk is no longer a shuffle; it's a coltish stride. Somewhat uncoordinated, not aware that he's grown so much. What a difference another year shall make.
     "... But if you want to meet by yourselves, I understand," Sabira continues in her accented lilt. "Either way. So," she looks to Maddie, "... shall we go shop then practice?"

     "Sure," Pres and Maddie say in unison. Pres looks up and smiles faintly to Sabira. "If my schedule allows, sure, anyway. I don't know what it's looking like. You don't mind if I bring a friend, do you?"
     How long has he been here? Maddie is bewildered but does not contradict her brother. She turns to smile at Anierin with a flash of fire. "Don't be silly! You won't be in the way. Baz and I have lots of time together, right? So there's no reason why you shouldn't get to spend time with us if you want to. Do you want to come with us to the games tomorrow? The more the merrier, you know."
     Maria smiles as she watches the cookies vanishing. She rises to her feet. "Then I will bid you farewell for now, Anierin, Sabira, Madison." But not Preston, apparently. "You will be hearing from me very soon. Do take care." She nods serenely, allowing the houris to attend to the door.
     Gruffy darling, do try to be in for dinner tonight. We have much to discuss...

     "Oh, sure! I agree. The more the merrier!" Sabira smiles, walking hand-in-hand with Madison toward the door. I don't know! But we will find out. There's bound to be a story there. You should spend time with your brother. Let me know if Ani and I need to be someplace else.
     Anierin brightens at the mention of the games, pausing at the door. "I would like that," he says. "I love the games. Maybe we can play cards too. My uncle Gwilym taught me a few card tricks. He says I have just the right sort of hands for a card shark."
     He smiles at the very idea: me? A card shark? But he is most deft, most deft and most quick. Anierin slips out of the doorway, leaving it cracked for the girls.
     "Goodbye, Preston," Sabira waves, all colors and veils and ringing bells. "I am sorry," she can be heard to say to Madison as they go, "... about earlier. I think belly dancing and burlesque are actually quite closely linked. I know this woman..."
     Her voice is hushed by the closing of the door. Itthura locks it behind the departing girls, her graceful steps enhanced by the unfurling of dove grey wings. In the right light, they appear lavender. She appears near her lady, waiting for her pleasure. Nox has likewise reappeared, wearing a gathering of sheer, violet cloth, her deep purple wings likewise loosed, trailing sighs against the floor. "My lady," they both murmur. It is an invitation to serve.

     The girls go, Anierin is gone, and one remains. Preston flushes slightly as he looks up to see wings unfurl, and quickly he looks down again. His silks, loose as they are, are not so loose as to fail to cling. And right now, they feel almost oppressive, too close on sensitive skin. He bites back questions, looking up again a bit hesitantly.
     So this is what Hamlet felt like, only sexier.
     The thought escapes him, and he flushes again, stubborn in his silence. He will wait Maria out.
     Maria smiles slightly, moving to cup Nox's cheek with her palm. She leans in to the houri for a moment, then beckons them both to the sofas, to recline and to take part in what remains of the repast, to offer their own wisdom if it is needed - or their own encouragement. She turns to Preston. "You must be feeling very confused after yesterday. I do hope you feel neither compelled nor rejected. Would you care for something stronger to drink? Nox and Itthura are at your disposal, as am I."
     As each houri moves to the sofa, they smile to Preston, more with their eyes than with their mouths. Their feathers lightly brush him at the legs as they move to the sofas.
     Each muse takes a corner of the sofa. There is room left to sit between them. Itthura pours the tea as Nox takes a sampling of dates and nuts. They feed one another, care for one another. And they care for you. A third cup is poured, should he desire it.
     Violet eyes and grey look to you with serene interest. A light breeze stirs at your silks, fanning the fabric gently, as their wings idly brush against the air. They are no common nymphs, who think of frolic and little more. They are Desire and Serenity itself. And there is no part of you they do not seek to inspire.

Posted by rowan at October 11, 2009 09:52 PM