On this gorgeous afternoon, after the conclusion of the games and the crowning of the Champion of the Kingdom, and the passing of a brief cloudburst shortly thereafter, the palace gardens and courtyards are full to the brim. Every available spot for outdoor loitering is taken. Every molecule of dappled sunlight has been claimed.
     And that's with a market full of people...
     The grand entrance of the basilica is likewise decorated with the bodies of loitering readers and languid-looking couples enjoying one another on the stoops and stairs. There is laughter, singing, sighing and even snoring.
     At the conclusion of the games, the team victorious, minus the two kings, Balthazar and Eavan poured into town to enjoy themselves. The Champion, the Sun King himself was last seen going into the royal box. King Eavan returned to his quarters, showered, and had a message sent to the chambers of Princess Tanira, along with a bouquet of lavender and irises, the purples that she seems to favor.
     With everyone distracted by the beauty of the day, I think we will be able to make a clean getaway. Meet me at the northern entrance to the palace. Your companion for escape, K.E. And then in smaller print toward the bottom of the card: Postscript: I should expect you will have an attendant. There must be someone to record our daring adventure. I will have sandwiches for three.
     The north side of the basilica is flanked by gardens and statues, gifts from the artists of the various realms to the Capitol. There is a broad limestone corridor that becomes the road into the neighboring hills and vineyards. It is at the juncture of where corridor transforms to street that there is a royal coach waiting, the white lacquer gleaming in the sun. Two rose roan stallions, barded beautifully, wait relaxed. And by the carriage, looking equally relaxed is King Eavan of Silverglen.
     It is easy to forget how tall he is, as he is frequently seen at dances sitting down or in a saddle on a tall horse -- the horse generally gets the credit. His white blond hair has just a bit of flax in it, where dampness from his earlier shower lingers. He is dressed more for spring than winter, as winter has all but decided to let spring peek in on the coronation festivities, his athletic frame given its best due with a white button down shirt, linen trousers of a natural linen, almost champagne in color, and a pair of very clean, very polished shoes.
     The coach is packed for adventure, with delights from the market already chosen (and thoughtfully). And even more flowers are awaiting your arrival: blue irises and exotically-colored dahlias.

     She smiles as she receives the message and turns to her mirror after it is read once. Attendants. They are for public use more than anything; she knows her family trusts her, and she knows her own capabilities. She changes clothing, sliding on a shining gown of silvery-white in the Grecian style, arms left bare and a purple sash wrapped round her waist with moonstone discs weighing the edges down; moonstones are at her ears and in a circle around one wrist, and otherwise she is unadorned.
     She pulls on a woven shawl of the same color as her dress, in a loose, open mesh, and her long braid is coiled and pinned up sleekly. And she knows that there will be eyes upon her; so what? Even a cat may look at a king.
     Her attendant is one of her aunts, or possibly cousins, an houri, of course. And Tanira makes her way patiently to the coach, allowing her chaperone to set the pace. "Your Majesty," she greets placidly. "I hope that we have not unduly delayed you. Congratulations upon your win of this afternoon."

     Abra, the attendant houri, is very deep in complexion, her skin among the most beautiful in Heaven. So much so, that only her eyes and forehead are visible. Her forehead is dotted with a golden jewel, and her eyes are green as a cat's. She slows as the carriage is reached and bows her head to the king, moving out of the way to stand by unobtrusively.
     Eavan smiles, moving to greet them both. There are two bouquets: one for the princess and one for her attendant. (Abra seems genuinely surprised. She accepts it with the many folds of her white robes.) "Not at all, Princess. This will be the most leisurely escape ever recorded, I'm sure. And thank you," he beams genuinely. "It was an honor to play a part. Here," he says, his hand offered to take yours for balance as you step into the cab. "That is a very lovely sash. Moonstone, yes? That is actually my favorite... other than fire opal."
     After you are assisted into the carriage, he assists your attendant, whose delicate fingers are encased in silken gloves. "I took the liberty of shopping beforehand... well," he smiles, "... of writing my list for Albion to shop on my behalf. I was busy ducking and charging at the time. The markets are full to the brim, hardly room to walk. So, I thought we'd just focus on the escaping part. There are drinks there for the ride, non-alcoholic ciders, apricot and cherry, and soda water..."
     He hops not in the back but in the driver's seat, taking the reins. He turns to look back to you, his lovely passengers, and he smiles with a glint in those beryl green eyes of his. "Would you believe that every shady tree, every copse and garden within the city limits has been claimed? It's just as well we're leaving town..."
     With a click, and only after he knows you are both settled and prepared for motion, he gives the rose roan stallions their lead, heading out upon the smooth, limestone road at a good trotting place. He is obviously an equestrian. His pose is straight, strong, confident, but relaxed. He leads you out of town and into the country, toward the vineyards. The smell of grapes are already evident.

     She accepts your aid in climbing in, her small smile genuine and amused as she settles. "Moonstone," Tanira agrees. "I thought since you seemed interested in providing me with color," she touches the flower petals lightly, "I would reduce the amount of color upon me." And her complexion means she does look good in whites. And she knows it, so why not?
     She examines the coach and the drinks, with a sidelong look to the king. "Who or what is Albion?" Tanira inquires, turning her gaze ahead and to the sides. "Everyone is sleeping off the excitement, I suspect. There will be less excitement now until the coronation, unless my brother decides to announce anything shocking." She smiles and touches her hair, then settles her hands in her lap. "You seem far less tired than I would be, in your shoes, Your Majesty."

     "Really, in white you are wearing every color imaginable, all at once. It is no wonder you wear them as well in their summation as you do each one individually." And that seems genuine. It comes with a look over his shoulder and a smile that is accompanied by a slight reddening.
     "Albion is both a who and a what, you are quite right," he chuckles. "He's my seneschal from Silverglen. As well as being a very good valet, he's also a bit of a packrat." Literally. "He is a master of procurement. We have cheese sandwiches, and even venison sandwiches -- I wasn't sure if you ate meat. I certainly do. We have fresh fruit, breads and other cheeses, and desserts. Oh... the desserts," he croons as he leads the horses into a gentle canter. It is speedy but not jostling for the passengers.
     Eavan laughs, glancing back to you. "I am running on pure adrenaline and nervous energy, I assure you. As soon as my head puts to pillow tonight, I will be down for the count. I am a living law of Inertia today. As long as I remain in motion, I'll stay in motion," he lightly jests.
     You leave the main thoroughfare for a smaller road, no less well-paved (one of your father's many public works projects, great roads throughout the Capitol, no matter how rurally located). There are winter flowers in bloom everywhere, particularly with this burst of favorable weather. The grapes for wine have been harvested already, but the vines are still producing, still green, at least until the first true frost.
     The road again grows narrower with the next turn, and you are now being led through a particular vineyard and toward an orchard of trees, with soft green grass dotted by yellow and pink buttercups.

     She colors faintly at the compliment, but she smiles, leaning over to help herself to the soda water, mixing it with the apricot cider and leaning over to offer you some demurely. "I see. Kind of him to come with you, or kind of you to bring him; I suspect he and my uncle Gwilym would enjoy meeting one another. Uncle Gwilym also is very good at procurement."
     That there are so many ways that could be taken, and there are so many things wrong with that statement, either does not occur to her, or it is perhaps a subtle sort of test or play. But she smiles and leans back to sip her own drink, looking at the scenery. "Tell me, if you will, of your kingdom in winter. Is it much like this, or are your winters deeper, with snow and icicles? You must be missing it either way, at least a little, no matter how pleasant the vacation from it."
     The horses' pace is slowed as the hill begins to even out and vineyards transition to orchard meadow. King Eavan chuckles, "I suppose it is a vacation, such as kings get. Which is to say, I have my secretaries, my valets, a security retinue and a ship full of sailors along with me. I do reckon they'd get on. The Holly King is the patron saint," he grins to you, "...if you pardon the expression, of Procurement. Albion would likely faint..."
     And there are just as many ways to take that.
     "Silverglen in winter," he thinks out as he navigates through buttercups and past apple and apricot trees. "The winters are a bit deeper, mainly for lack of a gulf stream. We are inland. It gets very silvery, Silverglen," he smiles. "But it is not harsh and windy. Fortunately, we are in a very wooded river valley, which makes for fluffy snow. We have a lot of rivers and brooks which frost over. But it is not overly grey and rainy like Red Castle. It's... rather snowglobe like," he says as he brings the carriage to a full stop in the dappled sunlight of the fruit tree grove. There is plenty of sun with interruptions of shade. King Eavan applies the brakes but gives the horses enough rein to nibble on the grass.
     He disembarks with still a hop in his step despite the bruises tomorrow shall bring. He opens the half-door to the open carriage, offering you his hand once more. Eavan smiles truly, warmly, his ears pinkening at the curve and tip. "I will say, with humility yes, but with all due pride, that there is no more beautiful place to watch the transition from winter to spring. No disrespect to your own home, of course. But... I hope you forgive me for that one brag."

     She smiles for the mention of her uncle as the patron saint. "It is the first time, I suspect, that Uncle Gwilym has ever been compared to any kind of saint," Tanira murmurs. "Perhaps we ought to arrange an introduction. It would be amusing." Her eyes glint with it, and she sips her drink, settling back.
     "It sounds very pretty. And it sounds as though you truly love it there," she remarks. you open the door, and she again takes your hand, smiling as she steps down. "You are not bragging. If you are speaking about something which you truly love, should you not show your passion? I find nothing in it which requires forgiveness, King Eavan. Rather, thank you for sharing it with me."
     She looks around, glancing to the horses, then to the scenery. "Tell me about your family."

     "I do love it," he says as he assists you from the car, the smile lingering, and the warmth, as he assists Abra (who is very quiet). He climbs up after you both disembark, grabbing armfuls of the fruits of this escape -- blankets, bags of food. He passes down one of the bags. "I hate to ask, but would you mind holding this until I hop down? If I crush the venison sandwiches, I will be inconsolable. And... thank you. It is beautiful." He flushes a bit again. He refrains from telling you how well suited you would be to be its queen. Lord Lugh would tsk at a marketing opportunity lost.
     As drinks and blankets are brought down with him, all balanced quite easily in his hopping down, King Eavan looks to you, his hand reaching out to take bag from you. A consummate gentleman. "Thank you. My family," he grins. "Well, I have mentioned my mother Beatrix. She is now Queen Mother. A very intelligent woman, known for her sardonic wit and her portrait painting, actually. She's gotten quite good. My father passed on, sadly, else we shan't be meeting like this. But he was a lovely man. Large as a bear, very warm. You always knew where you stood with him. He showed his like and dislike with equal exuberance..."
     "I have a younger brother, Lain, short for Cuchulainn," Eavan continues as he selects the spot with the best balance of sun and shade. He begins to set down the bags of food to tend to setting up the blankets. "He is twelve. I have seven sisters. Erin, who I mentioned before, and... in descending order...Ailen, Brigid, Calumina, Davina, Erin as I said...Feena and Glenna." He takes a breath and grins. "I'm the oldest, at twenty-four. The youngest is seven months old. Born just before papa, that is to say the King, passed away."
     King Eavan smiles as the blanket is set out upon the soft grass. "I did say before, about the rambling," he half-wonders with a smile. "Please," he offers gently.
     "I think an introduction can be arranged. I will have the smelling salts on hand. Just in case, with the fainting. You have two younger sisters, yes? And two younger brothers? Including the victorious one today. I don't know that I've met the youngest of the family..."

     "There is no need to hate to ask, either," Tanira answers with a small smile, accepting the bag. "And by the way, as I never said before, I am not a vegetarian, although some of my cousins are. I dabble with it on occasion, but in the end, I enjoy the taste too much to do without it."
     "Seven sisters. Goodness," Tanira remarks lightly, following you to the picnic site. "And I thought that I had a lot of siblings. Yes, five in total to your eight. Your mother must be a very tolerant woman." Very fertile, anyway. But it'd be rude to say that. "Ani - my little brother, Anierin - is just discovering the pleasantries of the opposite sex. I suspect we won't see very much of him, between that and his schoolwork, for months to come. As well, I think he's ... hiding, a little. There have been a lot of changes in a short time, and he has never had to deal with change before; one of the blessings, I think, of being the youngest. Each of us has had to get accustomed to the idea of change, moreso than he has, and it has a bitter flavor even when it is sweet, yes?"
     She smiles as she sits on the newly unfolded blanket, setting the sandwiches pointedly where you would have to work at sitting on them. "Why smelling salts? I would hardly think that I am as much a celebrity as that. Unless you mean for me, to be so inundated by your sisters?" Tanira smiles again. "Join me," she invites. "Or do you intend to stand all afternoon? The view is not necessarily improved by it."
     "Oh, I meant for Albion," he grins. "Though I would probably need them for any introduction to you as well. He's a bit prone to fainting. Like I am prone to apologizing." He chuckles at that. He waits for Abra to sit -- she chooses to settle in the shade -- before he joins you. He takes a place that is a bit more on the sunny side, the warmth enjoyed. Eavan pours a fresh round of drinks, smiling. "Yes," he says with slightly widened eyes, "... my father kept my mother busy right up to the end. I think he was hoping for one more son. My mother tolerated it well. She has a very easy disposition -- his was not easy -- which at least gave us a nice balance. Balance is very big with the culture of Silverglen. Four equally spaced seasons, just enough winter to allow for a lovely spring and just enough heat in the summer to make one long for winter festivals. I think it's due to the proximity to Avalon."
     The spread is simple and grand all at once -- again, balance. Even as he is charming but self-effacing; handsome, but not egotistical. He grins at the mention of your youngest brother. "Ah, adolescence. A time of transition anyway." He nods with poignant understanding. He knows all about transitions. He takes one of the venison sandwiches and the apricot nectar and soda water. "I understand the desire to want to hide. Wait until it's all over. Somebody, wake me when it's done. Yes. I suspect that it is hard for him, having had such consistency in his life. Your parents seem to be very balanced in their approach. I would be happy to meet him, talk with him, if you think it would help. I've just gone through it," he smiles. "Maybe we could go fishing," he grins at his fishing joke again.
     It never gets old. Though Lord Lugh would likely disagree.
     "Your family seems close," Eavan notes, "which I think helps. Mine is close, so I understand. Sometimes, it can seem a detraction, having a close family. Everyone knowing everything. But then, it's also a blessing," balance again. "Everyone knowing everything. It saves time when things are rough. Less explaining necessary."

     "Ours is not a very usual, customary sort of balance; we have a tendency to do things in threes," Tanira murmurs as she unwraps a sandwich for herself. She passes one to Abra as well with a small, wry smile. It can't be easy, being the invisible patron at the bar. "My two fathers and my mother... I know some people find it very uncomfortable, and it has affected their comfort with me, but they have always had a very stable relationship. It is the envy of those who know them well. It makes me sad to think that there should be a parting of ways, but..." She shrugs and smiles slightly.
     "Privacy can be hard to come by, in a large family, although there are always ways. It helps, I think, that we have always been given our own space to retreat to - our own rooms, our own clothes, the blessings that material comforts can lend as well as my parents always, between the three of them, somehow finding time to be there for us when we need them," Tanira murmurs. "In a way, I will miss that, but it is one of the things that gets left behind with adulthood. You can never really return to that relationship, nor should you. I think it bothers my fathers more than it does us," she adds, laughing briefly. "To have all their little ones growing up and no longer needing them. Do you like children, then, or did having so many little sisters rather put you off? I would not blame you if it did."

     "Three is the ultimate balance. There's little that is more stable than the triangle," Eavan says with a smile after a swallow. He does look to Abra, now and then, to make sure she's comfortable. And even though there is a tremendous desire to lie back in the sun, he remains seated.
     Lying down would mean certain napping...
     There is a grin for privacy. "It was hard finding privacy with so many sisters," he notes with a bit of a blush. "Particularly once some of them got curious about what sort of creature I was in comparison to themselves. But I have very quick and clever valets that saved the day on more than one occasion. Your parents sound very wise. Well, I knew that of them. And I don't think it will be a parting of ways so much as it seems. Their relationships will transition too, but will remain strong, I suspect. Just as your relationship with them is changing. It's deepening, actually," he notes with the soft sound of experience. "You will always need them as parents. But now, you know more about what they have seen and why they have done what they have done. Choices have more context. It's different, but in a way, better. You realize... as an adult... you're not alone in dealing with adult things. So are they, still. At least, that's what I've found."
     King Eavan chuckles after another swallow of venison followed by apricot. His sandwich is quickly disappearing. "It hasn't put me off children, no." He grins then. "Though, five certainly sounds better than eight. I do like them. I speak fluent infant. And what about you? Is it something that you've thought about? Some people do, some don't," he adds.
     There's no judgment in it, either way.

     "I haven't thought about it very much," she admits. "Infants are certainly cute, but I've never been one of those females who has to coo over every baby she passes. I've usually been more likely to have my nose in a book." Tanira smiles. "And more recently, of course, my business, such as it is."
     She looks through the sandwiches until she finds one of jam; apricot jam, of course. She is overly fond of apricots. "I am the eldest girl, you see. I think everyone is a little shocked that I am not already married. After all, my brother is, and even my younger brother seems well on his way to such, and my youngest brother thankfully isn't there yet. I am grateful my sisters are not pushing me out the door; traditionally, of course, they could not marry until I am, but Sabira is not in a hurry, and Hana is following my mother's path. She seems so far the only among us interested in doing so."

     "The same nonsensical voices that think that at twenty-four, I should have already been married, and have an heir on the way as soon as the crown landed on my brow. I do wish those voices would shut-up," he smirks. "I don't think it's something that... should be planned so much," Eavan admits after another moment. "Where's the nature in that? It should happen on its own time, not according to some parliamentary planner. Sorry," he chuckles, "... I didn't realize I sat upon my soapbox. I thought I left that at home..."
     There's a slight blush for his outburst, but he doesn't regret it. Sandwich done, he reaches for a bit of bread and cheese and some of the apricot preserves. He smiles as you reach for more apricot yourself. Something noted for the future. "I'm not very familiar with your mother's path. I know she is an angel, but not so much more than that. What does her path entail? And... your business. I'm not too familiar with that either. I probably shouldn't admit to that," King Eavan grins. "Somewhere, Lord Lugh is getting a headache. I would like to hear about it, learn about it. I have heard tale that you are a gifted negotiator..."

     "It can't be left off too long; I realize that. But I agree with you." Tanira smiles and shakes her head. "You aren't on a soapbox, rest assured. Unless I am as well." She finishes her sandwich, wiping her fingers fastidiously on some of the remaining grass that hasn't dried up yet.
     "My mother is an angel; specifically, an houri," Tanira explains without embarrassment. "To this end, she must remain a virgin, although she is well schooled in the arts and paths of pleasure. She is an emissary of Heaven, and, of course, is the embodiment of Heaven's blessing upon my father and his kingdom, his endeavors. I suspect that is, really, the truth behind the majority of the peace we've had during my father's reign. It is very difficult to argue that a man should be removed from rulership when he has Heaven's backing so visibly. We will see if my brother's divine heritage will have the same effect once my mother has returned home."
     She sips her drink, then looks up at you. "I am a weaver, I suppose you could say. Not here but on earth, I chose to try to make a business for myself out of my abilities. I have had some reasonable success, but I admit that the challenge has not managed to keep my interest. However, most of what I wear is made from cloths I have woven, or have been woven according to my instruction. I am," she grins a little, "very picky, King Eavan, in case you hadn't noticed. As to my being a negotiator... I think it is borne more out of my desire to argue rationally. It always irritated me when my brothers and sisters or classmates hid behind emotional arguments, and by and large they stopped being willing to argue with me and discuss with me at all, since they did not want to match me for logic and I did not wish to match them for emotion - or for volume."

     Smiling at the notion of logical versus emotional arguments -- he does have seven sisters, after all -- King Eavan finishes a bit of the bread and cheese. "I tend to argue, well... discuss, I'm not sure I argue really, you'd have to ask Lord Lugh and my sisters, logically. Here is my point... here is where we disagree... now, where can we find accord, and so on." He smirks. "My sisters tend to be far more vocal and demonstrative. Particularly Davina. She's a bit of a thrower," he chuckles.
     You mention your weaving skills and he takes another assessing look at you. "Truly?" he says, his voice warm with his interest. "That's impressive. The cloth is very fine." Stop it, Eavan, you're staring. He blinks out of it, smiling. "I'm not usually this awkward," he humorously notes. "In business meetings, diplomatic sessions, I'm actually quite well-spoken, I assure you. I admit you make me a little tongue-tied. So," he exhales with slightly widened eyes for a topic shift, "...blanket confessions on the second outing. Your brother must have given me a mild case of heat stroke." He chuckles at himself.
     "Sometimes," he continues, "...particularly with creative endeavors, challenge and interest come and go. Perhaps it's just because you have a tremendous amount of other matters on your plate at the moment. Something has to fall off the table. You are supporting two brothers through immense change, well... three actually. Your parents are moving on, and you're hoping to find love and partnership. I'm going to just guess that doesn't leave a whole lot of time or energy for weaving. Particularly things of such quality. I suspect you will find that interest restored when things start to settle down a bit."
     Green eyes glance to the attendant Abra. She must be an houri. "Interesting. But," he knits his eyebrows curiously, "... if she is a virgin, how did she conceive ...well... you? And give birth, and retain her virginity? I ... hope that peace continues. War isn't much fun. It's chaotic and messy and expensive. And I haven't really seen that it solves much."

     "You aren't being awkward; or at least, I do not find you so. If you are being awkward, I must both wonder at how I must seem, and how you indeed are in your meetings." Tanira laughs and shakes her head. "My brother has that effect on people. Do I really make you tongue-tied?" She gives you a teasing sidelong glance. Flattering if true, but why should you be?
     "I spend less time weaving lately, yes. Fortunately, my business is ... somewhat self-running, at this point. I took care to hire competent people, so that if something should come up, I could walk away and expect to come back and not find it in ruins. Of course," Tanira shrugs, "if they should ruin it, I lose little compared to those bound only to that place. But I do hate to lose."
     She smiles as you ask about conception. "Magic," Tanira answers you succinctly, laughing. "How else? But that is how we all look like all our parents. We are their children, equally." She goes quiet, contemplative. "I do not think war will come," she says finally. "We are too strong, and more, too united. If my uncles were at odds with my brother, or appeared to be, it would be a different story. But there is a Holly King and an Oak King - even if my brother's flavor is more Sun than Oak, but I suspect his children will have Oak in them." Considering who their mother will be; she does not say that aloud. "And both Holly and Oak have shown they support the throne, with my uncle making his presence known in the capitol. Really, if nothing else... who wants to have him angry at them?"

     "The Holly King does make for a very good deterrent to mischief," he smiles. "Historically, Silverglen has been aligned with the Holly Kings and Oak Kings both, which is not typical. At least not historically. Your family has changed that..." Eavan pauses, smiling and leaning in a little. "See, that is how I usually am in business meetings. With you... here... well, so far anywhere, I tend to ramble off point, I say marginally inappropriate things, I show every single card I have, and what I do say, I hear myself stumbling over. So... yes... you... do. Blanket confessional number two," he chuckles. "And now, I think, time for one of the many fruit pies. They're small. Apricot, again, my favorite, and lemon, another favorite. And there is also quince."
     He opens the bag of fried rollover type pies, taking one of the apricot and one of the quince. He does have an appetite; but he has table (and blanket) manners. "So...where was I? Oh yes, magic. I can see that now: you do favor both of your fathers, which of course would be impossible otherwise. And though I have never seen your mother, I suspect that is because of the beauty that you surely have inherited... see?" He grins. "I just heard myself say that. And it sounds a bit thick, something of a line. It isn't. I'm awkward. And you're beautiful. Has anyone but everyone told you that? To the point that it's difficult to think...?"
     He solves his loquacious problem by stuffing a pie in his face. That is why it is called a pie hole. It allows him to regain his composure for a moment. "I also come from a magical family," King Eavan notes. "We... each have a magical form. A totem, if you will, from which we inherit mystical and magical properties. Every person in Silverglen has some form of it, though for some families, such as mine, have very strong mystical or magical ties and abilities. I think in some kingdoms they've labeled us as werewolves. That's not accurate. Only Lord Malvo is an actual wolf and he isn't subject to spontaneous, bestial contortions around particular moon phases..."

     "I admit to being very fond of apricot and lemon both." Her eyes gleam; she's letting you off the hook, but you needn't think it's going to last. "I have had a few people tell me that I am beautiful. I tend to ignore it; although it is interesting," she says it half to herself, "that in my haste to not be late, I entirely forgot to put on my veil."
     You probably don't know just how rare that is...
     She shrugs it off lightly, taking a lemon pie and nibbling at the crust with dainty, sharp teeth. "Ah? That is very interesting. But inheritance still runs along the lines of primogeniture, and not along the lines of strength of magic, or strength of magical form?" Tanira gives you another sidelong glance. "That is almost a pity," she teases. "What girl doesn't yearn for magical strength in her swain? Although I think some do take it too far. So when is Lord Malvo subject to spontaneous, bestial contortions?"
     She sits back, reaching for her drink and giving you an obscure look. "My uncle and my brother have not been at loggerheads thus far. Time will tell, but they do seem to get along disgustingly well. If my brother has a flaw, it is likely that, I admit. So, King Eavan," Tanira smiles wickedly, "should I now ask you the truth of what you are thinking?"

     He doesn't know how much a rarity that is, or of any possible meanings. Abra, on the other hand...
     But she is not saying. She is quietly eating one of the pies, her hand slipping beneath her veil...
     "I am sure you have," King Eavan says quietly, and warmly. "Is it a custom of religious significance, or is it more to ensure that you are taken seriously? I would have a hard time believing that you could not make that abundantly clear without a veil. And, for the record, I'm quite sure that it wouldn't help keep me focused." There is that self-effacing smile again.
     He finishes his apricot pie with a swallow of the apricot soda fizz. It is a heady mix, though there isn't a drop of alcohol in either. "The forms are not passed down, merely the ability to connect with a form once it's revealed, and that's usually in puberty, though I connected with mine when I was barely able to walk. Strength of magic is really relative to one's... level of connection and then, of course, practice-practice-practice. In my family, the connections to mysticism and myth are quite powerful. It's an affinity, I think you could say, that is inherited. But connecting to it and drawing power from it is a skill that must be learned. Some choose not to, of course, content to use it as a parlor trick along with other magics."
     King Eavan chuckles, then clears his throat. "The ... bestial contortions usually happen when he's had too much honeybeer. The rest of the time, he's merely grumpy." When you ask to know the truth of what he's thinking, his ears turn pink again. "You may certainly ask, of course," he sets aside quince pie and the drink to give you his attention. "I'm rather horrible at Truth or Dare, I have to say. I'm sort of a Truth centered being. So... for you," Eavan smiles. "Ask me what you wish to know. I can't promise it'll be exciting, but it will be honest..."

     "It is symbolic, and because of my ... mixed bloodline, you might say." Tanira smiles faintly. "An houri's beauty is said to be such that a man might be driven mad with yearning by the sight of her naked face. We shall leave aside the mention of other forms of nakedness, of course. So it passes into tradition. One does not reveal one's naked face save to one's family. We are rather more casual with it than many; I have, after all, unveiled for meals often enough. But I usually remember, at least, to put it on before I leave my rooms."
     She shrugs it off, again. It's not worth overanalyzing at this point. "I generally manage to make people take me seriously," Tanira smiles at that, "and I admit, I rather enjoy it when people do not take me seriously. It is ignoble, but there is a certain pleasure in puncturing arrogance - save, of course, when it happens to me."
     She laughs quietly and finishes off her pie, holding it on the palm of her hand while she does so. "...I don't know what I wish to know, Eavan," she has mislaid your title for a moment, smiling again. "Everything and nothing, I suppose. I am enjoying the time we are spending together, but I do not put aside formality very well, do I? Tell me what you wish me to know, most of all." She wipes her fingers off carefully. "And ask what you would like to know, in return."

     There is a look -- he is a man, he can't help it -- at naked but he smiles through it. "I would say that the legends are more true than not. I am not mad, I don't think, but... I'm also not very smooth," he finishes in a whisper.
     But then, with Eavan, smoothness might not be a natural state. Graceful, yes. Smooth, probably not.
     If he minds the omission of his title, you sure cannot tell. For he seems to warm at the sudden familiarity, the openness. To be, as it were, without the veil of formality just for a moment. "I am enjoying it too, Tanira. Very much so. It is...so easy, and one might say too easy the way I'm going on, to talk to you. And... I don't mind formality. Often, it is a comfort and a saving grace," he notes warmly. "It keeps one from falling completely on one's face. Well," he laughs, "... it's supposed to. I seem to challenge formality's grip on civility. I ...wish you to know that I truly am enjoying your company. And I want to see you again. I am thinking about that even as I'm trying to figure out how to stretch this day out even longer. I wish you to know that while I'm not smooth, I am True." King Eavan looks at you. If you and he were just... people... not royalty, with courtship rules, if this were earth, he would kiss you with that look he wears. "And my favorite colors are purple and orange."
     And now it's his turn to ask. "What are you looking for in a partner? Apart from charming awkwardness," he smiles, "... and perhaps the inability to stop talking when ...clearly he should. Or the ability to ask a question without referring to himself off-handedly, no matter how charming he thinks it is? And don't let his awkwardness be any sort of factor in your answer..."

     "Smoothness can hide deceit, or ulterior motives. I would see through smoothness, anyway." She smiles at you slightly. "What I am looking for... I don't know, really," Tanira admits. "Intelligence, certainly. Some charm - I cannot see myself married to a brute, after all. And I did not want to marry a baker or be a courtier's wife. I am an imperial princess, and I choose to retain that part of myself; I suppose it is not very romantic, but ... I have standards to live up to." In more ways than one.
     She smiles at you, and she leans a hand towards you on the blanket. "I am enjoying your company as well, Eavan," Tanira assures you, voice dipping to quietness. "And you will see me again. I don't promise anything, but ... that, I can promise you. Purple and orange?" she adds, leaning back and laughing. "Not together, I hope?"

     "Not usually, no," he smiles. "No, not together. I just really like apricots and plums. Is that too food centric?" he wonders with a chuckle. His laughter and your laughter are left to hang out there a moment as he looks to your hand upon the blanket, the one nearest one of his. He taps his finger on the blanket absently, seemingly. But the three taps are a hello there, syllabically.
     Eavan lifts his gaze to your uncovered face. You are so beautiful. I wonder if anyone notices your sweetness? His finger curls toward you. It wants to touch, but that seems so forward. It glances a touch just an inch away. "I don't think it's any less romantic than bakers wanting to fall in love with and marry other bakers or people in the food industry," he notes. "You happen to have been born an imperial princess, a crown princess. I was born a crown prince. We are who we are. There is no shame in wanting to ... be with people who understand what that means and the experiences and conditions of that life. It would be hard for you to really connect with someone who didn't understand the kind of life you have had, the politics of that life. Like I said," he smiles, "... it might be easier if we could marry butchers, bakers or candlestick makers, but that's probably oversimplifying it. I'm not sure candlestick makers have it all that easy."
     "Actually," he thinks suddenly, "...there is a flower called Bird of Paradise, where orange and purple do co-exist. I've seen it in the gardens here. It's quite lovely. So it probably depends on the saturation of the purple and orange," he teases quietly.
     He holds a thought, sitting back after you do. "What magical skills have you studied or have been gifted with? Or is that too personal a question? I always find it interesting to see how the universe expresses itself in others..."

     She smiles at you, lowering her eyes, and she doesn't say anything right away. She looks at the grass and the blanket, letting her thoughts move through her, although kept to herself. I doubt he wanted me to open myself to the possibility, only to fall in love with someone else. Not that that is what is happening; it is far too soon for me to call it any such thing.
     "I like the way you put it," Tanira answers you lightly. "You make it sound so much less selfish than it sounds in my own head." She reaches for her drink, then smiles again. "If it is food centric, then you will fit in well with my brothers and my uncles and my father and grandfather. I swear sometimes I think they live to eat more than anything else."
     She looks at you as you ask about her magic, and she smiles again. "It is not too personal, but it might be too lengthy a question," Tanira answers, teasing lightly again. "To a degree, mine is the gift of Creation. It is a lesser gift than some of my family, of course; I am not the Holly King, nor am I the Sun King, nor even my grandmother, to create from nothingness an entire capitol. But we are all blessed with the gift of plenty, and I have found ways of using it to suit my own agenda. And, of course, I can move between worlds without need of guide or aid; we all have a foot in either world, thanks to my fathers."
     She considers, then shakes her head, smiling. "I admit that I believe that there is more, though," she says quietly, in the tone of entrusting you with a secret. "It is a dream I have had, since I was very small. Of course, such dreams are unreliable, and too often are nothing more than self-aimed figments, created to make oneself feel better about one's perceived flaws or the inherent inequalities in life."

     "Well, they do say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach for a reason," he chuckles. "Sometimes proverbs exist because they are completely factual. But it is good to know I will have an area in common with your uncles, father and grandfather. Your two older brothers I know fairly well. I know that Gruffydd prefers sweet and Balthazar prefers savory. But if you put anything with meat stuffed in pastry in front of them and hope to have any for yourself, you better have incredibly fast hands and you can't be worried about losing your own either," he chuckles. "I'm fond of your brothers. They are good men. I'm looking forward to seeing what they do, and in helping them in whatever way I may, large or small."
     Eavan listens to you describe your magical abilities. "Motion. Traveling. Creation," he says. "That is interesting. Creation is always in motion, and you have the expression of that. And... I'm sure there is more, Tanira. There always is. The universe is a very big place. And... dreams, I believe, are one of the many ways that the universe communicates with us. Sort of the whispers of the divine."
     "...Mine is tangentially related to Creation, in a manner of speaking. Resurrection is probably closer to it. Rebirth. Restoration. Healing." He pauses, then smiles somewhat nervously. "Would you... like to ... see the other me? I would ... like to show you. I don't know if that is too forward or not," he murmurs. "It might be. It probably is," Eavan smiles. "Since I'm the one talking about it. But it is an important part of who I am, as a man and as a king. If...you're curious."

     She smiles. "They are good men, in their own way," Tanira agrees. "Balthazar is ... hopeful, and sweet, and he makes me feel old at least once a week. And Gruffydd, of course, is rather terrible. I admit I am more like Gruffydd than Balthazar." She gives you a small smile. "You may take that however you like."
     She takes up her cup between both hands, sipping the contents and giving you a thoughtful look. "I would like to see it," Tanira murmurs, "if it is not improper. But ... I think, not just yet. You should hold a little in reserve." She smiles. "It is not a criticism. But if you show me now, with what will you lure me next time, for our next date?"

     "Balthazar. Sweet." King Eavan says it as if those two things could not exist in the same space and time. He chuckles. "He must hold that in reserve for the ladies. I don't think there's anyone I know who finds him to be... sweet. Hopeful, yes. He is optimistic. But that is his territory, Hope and Optimism." There is a certain curve to his mouth when you mention Gruffydd's terribleness. But he doesn't make comment on it.
     Instead, he blushes a tad. "I don't know that it's a lure, really. I'm not really good at luring," he says suddenly, as if that weren't completely obvious by now. "My real forte is politely asking," he chuckles. "Sometimes with a hint of embarrassment. Well," he says as he reaches for the quince pie, "... in truth... it's probably something best eased into. Which isn't to say it's scary. I'm not a dragon or anything. That would be inconvenient, to say the least. Sneeze and wipe out an entire village..."

     "I am his older sister," Tanira points out. "As such, I know all the proper armlocks and holds that every older sister should know how to use on her brother - if only the emotional ones." She smiles. "I'm not afraid of dragons. It isn't as if we haven't any in the family already."
     She looks up at the sky, then at the remains of the picnic regretfully. "However, we had best be heading back soon, your majesty. Duty, unfortunately, will not wait for us forever." She smiles, lowering her lashes and looking lazily up from underneath them. "I shall expect you to call for me again, however. And soon..."

     King Eavan looks to you and smiles. "What are you doing for breakfast?"

Posted by rowan at March 28, 2010 03:49 PM