At the conclusion of the opening dance, Jovian bows deeply to Kourin and yields to whichever lesser noble has doubtless been drawn to her sparkling grace. For his own part, he angles toward Fiona as she and Julian drift apart.
"O Sorceress in your verdant splendour," he addresses her, bowing, making a very elegant leg and spreading his 'wings' in greeting. "Where a Creature of Air has gone, may a Creature of Fire have a place, before you move on to water and earth?"
Fiona takes a moment to adjust her crescent-ornamented headband slightly and casts a glance in the direction of her former partner before answering the younger man. "The pleasure would be mine, Burning One."
With a flourish and a glowing smile, the Phoenix hands the Sorceress into place - and with any luck at all, the next dance is one of a style that will permit him to emulate her former partner's elegance....
"I am glad of a chance to converse with you at last, my Lady," he ventures during the second turn of the music, having concentrated on the steps the first time through, "of whom my father has spoken so highly. I trust the Return has treated you with deserved warmth?"
"I am well pleased to be in Amber, with matters of the succession settled and our kin gathered in peace," says Fiona. "That, and the knowledge that those dear to me were among the ingathered, is sufficient to warm my heart."
A pleased little humming sound emanates from the firebird, with a smile of fond reflection. "To feel welcomed into the bosom of Family is a thing that, I gather, has been rare for some time. I hope we can orchestrate a lasting harmony among us."
A few beats go by in companionable peace, attending to a complex figure of the dance. "I had a most interesting time along the way home, meeting some of Vere's maternal family."
"Ah, yes. The Isles. They are an interesting place," Fiona says. "I suppose from your words that the news you brought to Gerard and his son was not what they might have hoped."
"Strange days indeed," the Firebird allows. "And developments of which I would value your opinion, were you inclined to give it."
"I have heard some of it from Julian. To offer an informed opinion, and I would hesitate to offer an uninformed one, I believe I would need to visit the Isles myself. But the road I will take next lies towards Paris," Fiona says.
"If you would find it of interest," the Phoenix offers, "I have an example of the offensive magics native to that place, which would welcome - and if I may be bold, my lady, deserve - a moment of your attention at your convenience. I would be most sincerely grateful for such attention," he adds gravely, emotion not quite allowed to rise in his voice.
"I will look at it, of course," says Fiona, "but I do not yet know when I will be leaving Amber again. It may be as soon as on the morrow. I will ask my brother when I talk to him. We shall talk again later this evening."
"My Lady, I could ask nothing better. The example I spoke of lay upon the eyes of Sir M'corli Antrithsrider, Companion of the Ruby, who is in this hall this evening. If it would please you, I shall introduce him to you later."
"It would please me. I will speak to Bleys of it as well; he is always intrigued by new magicks," Fiona says.
She turns her attention to the dance for a moment. Her movements are very precise and elegant.
Which in turn allows the Firebird to concentrate on matching her precision, without being thought dull if he lacks the flourish of some of the more stylish dancers in the hall. His frequent glances at his partner in green are appreciative, even admiring, but he keeps his smile just barely on the decorous side of the line where flirtation starts.
[assuming she has no more to say during the dance itself]
As the music concludes he makes an elegant show of the reverance, the beak of his hood nearly brushing his knee, forward toe pointed a little (if he were not Juliani, one might suspect him of deliberately showing off such a well-turned leg).
"Some refreshment, dear Lady?" He offers her a wing.
The unlikely pair make their way to the sideboard and chat for a little while, keeping conversation fairly light with no goal in mind but to gain some familiarity. Jovian, for his part, is cheerful but not as near-manically so as at the poker game. He doesn't seem to feel he has much to hide, unless he's very good at hiding things casually. The only thing tentative about him is his near-miss avoidance of direct flirtation. And when Fiona talks, he's an active listener - not like Vere who seems to focus on nothing but receives everything, his focus is very intent, like he's listening with his whole face and body.
Fiona is a pleasant conversationalist, speaking lightly of other occasions she has seen in the Great Hall over the centuries, such as the wedding feast of Oberon and Paulette. She does not deign to notice anything too close to flirtation; it is as if she has had many opportunities to perfect an absence of effect over time.
Ossian will approach Robin rather early: "Would you dare to follow a nomad to the dance floor?"
Robin turns from where she was watching the orchestra. She looks somewhat surprised to find someone talking to her. Then she replays the 'invitation' in her mind.
And raises a brow as she replays it yet again. Almost unwillingly, a quick flash of appreciation dances through her green eyes. White on white, the two of them are. And both armed with curved knives, there's some symmetry there. And he thought enough of her to challenge her. She smiles.
"Nooooo," she drawls teasingly. "But I might let one track me there."
Ossian chuckles. He has not really noted Robin before. Her dress this evening had alerted him that there was something there worth investigating. A wildness? "That's good enough. I'll follow the track as well as I can." Ossian bows.
[Does Robin know the dance?]
Robin grins, turns and just barely manages not to stalk or stride to the dance floor, but it was a near thing. However once there, she looks around just a little bit... concerned perhaps, to make sure that Ossian has indeed come with her.
Ossian tilts his head slightly. There wasn't any good reason for him not to follow. What did she fear?
As she glances over to the nomad, the girl's eyes widen slightly in the darkness of her facepaint. She's brought herself to the edge of the meadow, a place no wild thing enters casually. Her breathing has elevated slightly and her expression is just ever so slightly on the side of 'Okay, I can too do this thing.'
The Huntress looks around herself quickly. And then holds her hand out to Ossian just exactly like the other ladies are doing to their partners. It is an easy guess, that no, Robin doesn't know this dance. Or any other pattern dance actually.
Ossian takes Robin's hand, moving so close to her that only she can hear his words "It's there in your blood; I've heard you play that ocarina, remember? This will work out fine." There is an implicit /trust me for this dance/ in his voice. Then he moves into whatever the starting position is for this dance.
Robin nods, her eyes large and green, as she tucks her bow, one-handed, over her back down through her girdle and tucked into the crescent-moon pin on the shoulder of her chiton.
"I know," she whispers back to the nomad as she takes her position. "It's just that... I'm not used to this kind of... venue." Her eyes dart around to the so-open public place encircled with dead stone where she is surrounded by strangers watching her.
But then, she looks into Ossian's eyes, hears the 'trust me', takes a deep breath and lifts her head, proud wild thing.
Ossian will do all he can to make the two of them look good on the the dance floor. His touch is light but firm as he guides Robin through the dance (how much does she resist?) He will keep the fact that he is trying to teach her as discreet as possible.
At the beginning of the dance, Robin doesn't 'resist' per se. Instead, she 'attacks' the dance. There's just no other way to put it. It's as though the mincing steps were a kata or a sword-drill. The Huntress is athletic, graceful, and a very quick study. But she's also determined, focused and terribly, terribly alert.
As the dance progresses though, as Ossian doesn't half-turn her into a shepherd-hey-look-out-crash! (assuming he doesn't ;), as the patterns begin to repeat, Robin starts to relax and let herself move with the music and her partner.
Ossian will dance with a very clean and simple style until Robin relaxes.
And when she relaxes, the Huntress is revealed to be a fantastic dancer. Every move evocative of the bon-fire and the drum circle. The night air and the green of the forest seeming to twine around her despite the warm well-lit ballroom. The elusive glimmer of green in black, the white flowing limbs, the joy of movement, the peace of stillness -- Robin brings life to her dancing.
When Ossian sees this his eyes beams with joy. He lets his dancing style change to enhance Robin's to the point where it is not clear who is leading.
"I did not know....Why do I feel like I have let a bird out of a cage?" he asks her.
A cock of the girl's head rattles the beads in her hair. And a glimmer of dark green from a side glance indicates that if a bird has been released tonight, it wasn't a canary. But a raptor. Then just as quickly as the glimmer came, it's gone. And Robin smiles somewhat sadly to Ossian.
"These walls will always be a cage to me, Wanderer. But perhaps, just for tonight, I can stretch my wings."
Ossian shakes his head slightly. Words never serve him quite as he intended to. "I hope so. I never was much for caged birds. They never have the same beauty as the flying ones."
Robin ducks her head to Ossian, a hint of ruefulness in the shrug of her shoulders. She's a prickly one, she knows it, and decides not hold that against Ossian tonight. Especially since she's been known to put her own foot in her mouth more than a time or two while she's been here at the Castle.
Ossian stays quiet for a while, letting his dancing talk for him. It grows more intense, and conveys a desire for...wings?
Huhn. Robin's eyes flicker with a little 'I didn't know' of her own. The words of Ossian's limbs seem so much more... right, somehow, to her than the words on his lips. And she mentally tsks at herself for allowing the "I let" to overshadow the sharing of his grace.
The girl smiles to her partner and does her best to weave her own power - raw and wild as it is - into Ossian's composition of elegance.
Ossian welcomes the Huntress. For a few minutes fury and graceful elegance exist simultaneously. As the Nomad's eyes meet the Huntress', they convey appreciation and something more, harder to determine.
"Say, huntress, what will your prey tonight?"
"I think..." she shakes her head, "I'm not sure. But I think I shall hunt for a new path. One that doesn't lead me to be quite so solitary." For a moment, unconsciously, Robin bites her lip as she thinks.
Ossian nods. "If your path... should windle it's way closer to mine than it has done before...I wouldn't be displeased."
Bright forest-green eyes turn to the artist, hope warring with fear. "Oh, Ossian," she sighs. "Do you think you can stand me?" Something mournful in that. "I'm likely to do worse than hand you an ocarina full of spit."
Ossian's almost sad eyes look back, and narrows slightly. He might be smiling under the veil, but that's hard to tell. "I can handle that. What I've seen tonight more than compensate."
Robin's eyes search her veiled partner, trailing from face to frame and back again. But whether she is searching for something in Ossian or something in herself is hard to say.
Then a carefree smile dashes across the girl's face and the Huntress gives a most unfeminine snigger. "Okay," she drawls. "But just remember. I warned you." Robin tilts her head downward so that's she looking at Ossian from under her brows. Green mischief burns there, hinted at by the wildness in her dance. And she grins.
"Consider me warned." The nomad is definitely grinning back. The mischief and wildness in Robin's dancing is matched by pure joy is Ossian's.
Robin laughs freely, and spends the rest of the dance enjoying herself, twining around Ossian in frolicsome abandon.
After that [first] dance is done, Conner seeks out Solace. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with a dragon, lady?"
"It would be my pleasure, Lord Dragon," says the masked shepherdess. Solace sets her crozier against the wall and follows Conner to his place on the floor.
Solace doesn't have great flair as a dancer, but she is familiar with the steps and makes a more than adequate partner. After the first couple of figures, when each of them has taken the other's measure, Solace asks, "Lord Dragon, what have you heard of the Land of Peace? My dear Shepherd tells me he will travelling there soon."
"Will he now?" Conner repsonds sounding interested. "Well I have heard it is a place of cutthroat business with the term meant literally in some cases."
A frown mars Solace's pretty face. "That's terrible. My Shepherd may be there for some time, he says. I suppose he won't want to bring me and the children if the place is dangerous."
"I would think that a wise precaution." Conner replies. "At least until your Shepherd has gathered a flock of supporters. Though it is a shame he leaves the Shepardess to look after his own flock alone." Conner smiles. "How are the little ones?"
"Oh, very well, thank you for asking. Hope was very disappointed that she could not join Mummy and Daddy in their dress-up game."
Solace smiles coyly at him. "I see that you have a special friend with you this evening, Lord Dragon. She seems like a very lovely lady. Perhaps I should have her up for tea sometime soon?"
"Only invite a Sphinx to tea if you are in the mood for riddles." Conner smiles back.
"Oh, I find I can get riddles aplenty from you, my Lord Dragon," Solace says, and laughs.
"Always do what your best at, my mother used to say." Conner chuckles. "You must be used to it though. Your husband has been known to drop a puzzle or two."
"Oh, not to me," says Solace. "He knows I'm not clever enough for all that. I suspect your Lady Sphinx would run circles around me. I hope though, that she's clever enough to riddle away those wicked Rebmans."
"So do I." Conner murmurs. "Though that conundrum will require a lot of unraveling."
"We were all better off before Corwin found the Rebmans and brought them here," Solace says firmly. "They should leave their games at home and not bring them to Amber."
"Ah but Amber is always the game." Conner replies. "They just have troubles earning the privelege of sitting at the high roller table." Conner muses a moment letting the dance takes the fore. "Of course the very fact that Corwin found them is curious in itself."
"Yes, it is. Would you like me to dance with him and find out how he did it for you?" Solace offers.
Conner looks at Solace with new appreciation. "A most kind offer, Lady. Please do." He smiles. "I see you enjoy playing the game too, in your own way."
Solace offers him a flirtatious grin back. "Just because you're not a king or queen doesn't mean you can't be a useful pawn sometimes."
"It's not every pawn that seeks to advance across the board." Conner grins back. "That takes courage."
"I needn't advance all the way across. But if you're going to be on the board, my Lord Dragon, you'd best learn the rules of the game." Solace is clearly enjoying the flirtation; it may be, Conner suspects, that he is the first one of her husband's relations to take her seriously.
"Very true." Conner smiles. "And your opening gambits have played out well, I think."
"I am pleased that you think so, sir."
[Worth asks Solange to dance]
"It would be my pleasure," Solange replies formally, although her curtsy is only a suggestion of the customary gesture, because of her more-clinging gown.
As they wait their turn in the middle of the set, she asks, "How are you, Papa? Everything's been so busy with the coronation, we haven't had a chance to say two words to each other."
He smiles. "You know I like being busy. The fleet has been a lot of work to get together, and we still don't really know what it is the king wants from us. Not everyone is too happy, of course. Busy is good. Do you know yet what you'll be doing after all this is done?"
"His Majesty hasn't assigned me any specific duties yet," Solange says. "I'd thought, if I weren't needed for anything else, that I might go searching for places with advanced healing methods -- maybe even regeneration. But it's possible I might get drawn into a different matter, one that I'd thought was Vere's concern."
"Vere? Vere has a reputation in the Navy as exactly the kind of hard-working, scrupulously honest paymaster that you hope is working for you back home. For certain captains, he's the kind of hard-working scrupulously honest paymaster that you hope to send floating back home. What does he need his half-sister for?"
"Some trouble brewing in our grandmother's country," Solange replies.
"What kind of trouble?" he says, all parental.
"Political, I think," Solange answers. "I'm not clear on its exact nature, truly, but since rulership passes through the female line there, it may not be possible for me to remain uninvolved."
He relaxes a bit. "So not martial. I was afraid you'd tell me that boy was dragging you into a war."
"Now, would I tell you a thing like that?" Solange asks. Her tone implies that she means "Would I get involved in something that stupid?", but she has chosen her words carefully.
"No, you'd try to pull the wool over my eyes, and yes, you would. There were places your father went that the Navy tended to stay out of. Places where it didn't matter how good you were at what you did, because the enemy used magic. Dangerous places. That's where Vere is from, a place where a girl needs to be careful. Don't go in to such a situation half-cocked, Solange. It may not be as simple as it seems when you're planning it on the dance floors of Amber."
"I can see why you're worried, Papa," Solange says. "I don't even know whether I'm going to be involved, yet, and I certainly plan to find out much more than I know now if I do become involved. 'Simple' is the last thing I'd expect it to be. The people there would count me as a god, can you imagine?" Her tone is as baffled as you'd expect from a girl raised in irreligious Garnath.
He smiles. "I've sailed into places where we were taken for Gods. I've heard of places where they eat their Gods. Don't let Godding go to your head. They might devoutly and sincerely and religiously do ye in."
He pauses while you dance.
"If they Navy is officially lending ships. I might be able to go with you."
"That's another thing I'll have to find out," she says.
"Admiral Winter has been quietly trying to figure out which captains want what assignments. I'll have a word with him, and I'll let you know what I find out."
"Thank you, Papa."
[As Aisling] flits off to the dance floor, Marius will look for Ossian.
When he finds Ossian alone, he will address him with a, "Hail danger to lost sheep!" and a grin.
[Alone? Ossian loves dancing. Well, there might be a few seconds between two ladies where Marius can snatch him..]
Ossian bows, somewhat mockingly. "Greetings, fish-catcher." Marius suspects Ossian is grinning back, but it's of course impossible to be sure.
"You should be dancing, my friend."
Shall we say that, at some point, Aisling and Reid end a dance close enough to each other? In which case the moth will make her way over, with a slight bow, "Lord Harlequin, your handling of these traditional dances is refreshing..." She grins.
Dance, talk, it's all fine by her.
Reid arches an eyebrow. "There are few in our generation who practice such traditions, much less recognize them. Forgotten diversions from forgotten times. But tell me of your own schooling? How is it that you come to know the ways of old? Or is it just that my ways are different enough from current standard that they are recognizable by those departures?"
"I regret that it is mainly the second," the moth gives him regretful answer, then quirks her head a bit, a thought occurring, "Though it occurs to me that between the two of us, we could put together a sort of 'phylogeny of dance', as it has diverged in Amber and in one of the Courts... With enough experimentation, of course." She's grinning brightly, laughter in her eyes.
"All dances lead to Amber. Or something along those lines," Reid chuckles.
"Do all dances come from Chaos?" Aisling muses, and then smiles.
"There are times that I suspect they do." He returns her smile. Looking at the more formal dances around the room, he concludes, "But perhaps this is not one of those times."
"Have you ever been there, my lord?"
"Chaos? I've been close, I think. The field where my father died was far removed from most shadows I'd previously experienced. I had no cause to venture further once I found his grave, and the journey back took significantly longer than I had anticipated." As always, Reid is pensive about the duration of his absence.
Turning the subject around he asks, "What about you? Were you born there? Or closer to here but with chaos in your blood?"
Since this does not appear to be migrating towards an offer to dance, Aisling has set the conversation to migrating away from the dance floor, towards the finger food area. She speaks quietly, "I think I was created in the Court farthest from.... Closest to Amber of any. But as for the chaos, it is my understanding that chaos is the basic state, and it is the t-aste (clearly at the last moment one "t" word was swapped for another) of Order that is shaded over it."
"I don't doubt that a bit. But I do find your juxtaposition a tad confusing. Which is it? Farthest from? or Closest to? It is seldom both. At least, not now days. Perhaps again soon. If you are saying that you were conceived in this castle, then that is only slightly novel, given Oberon's habit of straying from the royal bedchamber. On the other hand, if you are saying that the Courts of Chaos and Amber are one in the same, I suspect such statements would annoy those other than yourself who have walked from one to the other." Reid doesn't mean this as an attack, but he doesn't seem too willing to get philosophical on the matter either, at the moment.
Aisling looks thoroughly bewildered. "I don't /think/-- I'm pretty sure King Oberon had no part in my creation..." She trails off, looking somewhat appalled.
"You can never be sure now days..." Reid replies amusedly.
The moth's lips twist wryly, "And what about your own parents? What were they like?"
"Sometimes I felt like I had three of them. My father and his twin brother were inseparable. I think at times my mother felt like she was missing out on his affection, but she never made a show of it. She taught me art and the finer points of education, while my father's wild passion for music also seems to have rubbed off on me. He was boisterous -- always playing at the pubs. I'm sure as a toddler I spent many an evening significantly past my bedtime under the tables at various bars while the musicians called out one tune after another until they ran out of notes. Mother would scold him for keeping me out so late, but he always shrugged it off," Reid recalls. "Finndo didn't seem to have my father's musical ear, but he was out nonetheless. Usually chasing some bar wench and drinking up a good time. I think he gambled too, but the matter was never discussed openly, and I was too young to recognize such things."
Aisling is thinking, wow, that would be really neat. She's kind of happy by proxy, listening to him reminisce, and prompts him further, "Was Benedict young, then, too? Did you learn arms and music together?"
Reid considers, "Benedict was older, certainly. I like to say that he got his strength in part because he had those two as older brothers picking on him. He trained me a bit... I got almost all of my foundation in defense from him, but it was never a subject I fully devoted my attention to. I know he wasn't happy when I went off seeking my father's grave... half way to Chaos and traveling alone. Of course, he was probably right, as I spent who knows how long trying to find my way back."
"So he was wise even then," Aisling says with a small smile. "It is odd to think of him as a young man... Who taught Benedict the sword? Or was that long before your time?"
"I think he learned a fair amount from his brothers at first. I imagine he studied with every master he could find to learn the full encyclopedia of techniques and strategies that he now knows." Reid replies.
"Did you study with Oberon's Court Artist, Dworkin? He was at Oberon's funeral..." Aisling asks and offers, somewhat curious.
"I was one of Master Dworkin's students, yes. It is good to know that he is still breathing. I suppose that makes him only the second person from my youth who has weathered the years betwixt then and now. My study with him was cut short by my impatience to find my father. It would be good to see the old artist again, though. Perhaps our paths will recross yet." Reid ponders.
Aisling smiles a bit, pleased to have brought good news. "I did not speak with him myself, but I noted that the others of the Knights of the Ruby, save of course for Sir Marius, did. As did also many of your aunts and uncles; 'twas Dworkin who watched over those paying their respects to King Oberon's casket." She looks solemn again.
"I recognize your grief for the loss of the old king, but cannot share in it." Reid seems sincere in his apology. "Directly or indirectly he caused my father's death. While I know that such treachery is to be expected within the family, and often even forgiven, I have no cause to celebrate his memory. Perhaps if I had seen him before his death I could have set aside old grudges, but such reconciliation has been thwarted by the timing of my return from my own banishment."
Aisling frowns. "I do not think such treachery is to be expected," she murmurs.
"Well, from the tales I've heard I think there's definitely precedent... Brand was killed by family for betraying family (dragging Deirdre with him); Corwin & Bleys would have taken Eric, and Eric did nasty things to Corwin; Finndo and Osric were betrayed by Oberon, and there may be reason to suspect his hand in Moins' death. Those are just the ones I've heard about... The body count may be low considering the centuries they span, but I think there is something to be learned from history if one has enough perspective. Then again, maybe it's a cynical curse of having lived so long myself." Reid smiles sadly, clearly willing to allow that perhaps he is wrong, if it will put Aisling at ease.
"I do not know all of the circumstances surrounding the casting of Prince Brand from the light, but of the other actions of your uncles that you mention, none seem to me to be betrayals of each other." Aisling regards him, and then changes the subject, "But it is exceedingly rare for me to get a chance to dance, and I have thus set my mind with joy to fill these hours thusly..."
"Then dance it shall be." Reid sets down his drink and offers his hand, and away they go...
Aisling smiles warmly at him.
Last modified: 22 May 2003