Some would say a nation's heart dwells in the sacred halls of nobility, cloaked in glamour and finery. That power resides in baroque politics and maneuvering. But this is a hollow truth, and those who clutched to this belief built foundations of sand. The wise man knows a nation's heart beats in the smoky taverns and humble cafes, be it whispered in shadowed corners or echoed in raucous songs. One has only to listen to hear its pulse, and they shall know the true face of a realm. Be it the vows of loyalty or the stirrings of decent. And Silhouette had always been an excellent listener.
She has visited the places of the people, listening for Rebma's pulse. Seeking it amongst the Rebmans and the Tritons alike, waiting to hear the one name she desires most. Moire. It has been a long wait, but an intriguing one in other ways. All knowledge gained is coin earned, after all.
Now Silhouette presents a strange sight, sitting in the tavern's corner, a plain beauty surrounded by exotic creatures. She finds the tritons an intriguing lot; quiet, sullen, and yet possessed of a deep faith. They speak only when needed, their elegant tattoos speaking for them. It makes Orseas, her warden, excellent company. She favors directness over twisted tongues.
She sips her drink, something bitter and intoxicating. "Do your people have songs?" she says; her first words since arriving.
Orseas turns slowly and nods, but he does not speak in words. He floats by Silhouette and slightly behind, but not so far behind that he couldn't reach out with his great long tail and slap away someone approaching her. It would be a mighty slap based on the musculature of said tail.
She admires him for a moment, fascinated by the power of this creature. It is all she can do to resist running her hands along his scales and fins. It is like sharing a shark's company - exhilarating, mesmerizing. What grandeur she could inflict upon the world with an army of such creatures.
"Are your songs of war and honor? Loss and hope? Love, perhaps? And you have aoidos?" She smiles apologetically. "Forgive me... 'bards.' Or are your songs known to all?"
The scales of Orseas' tail ripple as it twitches; it's not immediately clear to Silhouette whether it's a voluntary motion or not. His mouth opens and there's a ripple from it, as if it takes a moment for him to figure out how to issue sound from it. The word he produces is, "Dolphins."
"Delphin," Silhouette says with a smile. "Yes. We sing of them in my lands, where they are the Voices of the Sea." She leans forward, gazing into his strange eyes. "Might you favor me with one of your people's songs, Orseas? And, in kind, I shall share one of ours."
Orseas looks at Silhouette curiously, tilting his head, and says, "Why?"
Silhouette blinks at the question, as if the answer were obvious. "Your noble people intrigue me. And a great deal can be learned of one's culture from the songs they cherish." She smiles softly, "Please?"
Orseas looks at her for a time and then says. "Songs are not for two-tails to hear."
"Understandable. The two-tails have not earned that blessing," Silhouette replies, nodding. She pushes off her chair, floating onto her feet. "But I shall give you a song of my people. A gift for your kindness and protection."
Fearless of the crowd around her, Silhouette begins to sing -- her voice sweet and somber as moon-cast rain. The liquid medium allows her to dance as she sings, swirling and gesturing like the characters in her tale. She sings...
...of Arion- a fair-haired citharist of exquisite talent, who grew up from the most humble of beginnings. So lovely was his voice that it soothed the fiery heart of Methymna's tyrannical King. They became fast friends, brothers, and over time Methyma and its people prospered - in no small part to the Arion's calming influence. And so, some years later, upon hearing of a musical competition in the Hydran capital, the King provided Arion the means to travel there. The young man readily agreed and set sail across the ocean to represent his King and his people.
Arion's talents served him well, and after competing against the finest musicians, he triumphed. Rewarded with rich prizes of gold and spices, he embarked upon a ship headed home. But soon, the seamen grew avaricious of the citharist's new-found wealth. They plotted against him until they finally surrounded him with mutinous intent. Arion plead with them to take his gold, but they could not allow a friend of the King to live lest they suffer his wrath. Before they could cast him into the sea, Arion sang to the gods, asking them for their mercy.
And thusly, Arion plunged into the green-blue waters below - giving himself over to Proteus' mysterious realm.
But Death he did not find there. A pod of dolphins had heard his song and come to listen. Upon seeing him thrown into the sea, one could not allow him to drown - a female called Kaberio. "Sing for me and I shall carry you to the edge of the earth," she said. Arion readily agreed and sang for her as she carried him across the vast ocean upon her back. As they traveled to Methyma, he told her of his lands and she sang to him of the ocean's secrets. And as they traveled, this odd pair - dolphin and two-tail - fell in love.
The journey to Methyma would take everything out of Kaberio. As she they reached the shore, her body finally gave out - too weak to escape the receding tide. Arion clung to her, pleading to the gods to spare his love, but this time no song could stay Death's hand. Trapped between Land and Sea, Kaberio died in his arms. He buried her on shore; his lyre to keep her company.
He returned to the King and told him of his dark, fantastical tale. The King, an unimaginative man, doubted it from the beginning - but for the sake of their friendship, he gave Arion the benefit of the doubt. He commissioned a monument to mark Kaberio's grave, in honor of her sacrifice. And, upon hearing of their arrival in his port, the King called the mutinous to court. He asked of Arion's fate, to which they replied that he had remained behind to live a life of luxury. The King replied, "Tomorrow, you will swear to that before the Dolphin's Monument."
The next day, the seamen were bought before the lonely monument under guard. And once again told their false story to the King. Arion stepped from behind his love's grave, shocking them into silence. The King had them tied down upon the beach and let them drown with the rising tide. Their bodies were never found when the waters retreated, claimed by the sea.
Arion spent many years composing the song of his lost Kaberio. Its beauty and longing touched the gods, and so moved were they that lifted the brave dolphin up and placed her amongst the stars. Even now, her reflection is cast upon the waves every night - embraced by the dark waters she once called home. And Arion sits by the shore and sings to his love - eternally together, yet so forever apart...
...Silhouette grows still, silent - her song at an end. She smiles sadly at Orseas and whether she is crying or not is impossible to tell. There are no tears in Rebma.
The crowd at the tavern, which has been a bit skeptical of the lady and the Triton--such is not their usual company in this part of the city--has been transfixed by her singing and telling. At the end of her song, they break into frenzied applause which she feels the current of more than hears. A fresh drink is brought to her, and any offer she makes to pay in coin is refused.
Silhouette curtsies and makes the appropriate expressions of gratitude to the crowd. Drink in hand, she rejoins her companion.
Orseas watches her. His tail flicked to the rhythm of the song as she sang, but he does not applaud, and there is no indication that he really understood what she was getting at, if she was getting at anything other than the song.
She looks up at him, "Mother named me after Kaberio, but that was another life." For a moment, her frown is hidden behind her drink. Silence surrounds her like a cloak; her gaze meeting Orseas's, unwavering.
"What future would you have for your people?" she suddenly asks.
Orseas flicks his tail, more jerkily than before, at this question. "I do not understand what you ask," he says after a time. It takes him a long while compared to a human to find the words.
Silhouette tilts her head, studying him close. She suspects she now knows where his confusion stems from. A faint smile. "Your people helped save Rebma. And now they assist in its rebuilding. That means you possess politic power, which can be utilized for the benefit of your people. You may exact compensation from the Queen for their - and your- betterment, and she cannot refuse you. Not truly."
She swirls her drink the glass. "What role did the tritons play in Rebman politics under Queen Moire?"
"Served. By oath," he adds, as if two extra words are a long explanation, and given how much Orseas and the rest of his companions seem to talk, maybe it is. "Now our oath is Celina's," he continues, perhaps feeling a further overlong explanation is required.
"And that is all that defines your people? Serving an Oath?" Silhouette says. She breathes out with profound sadness. "How tragic."
Orseas looks at Silhouette, unblinking. "We are not as you."
Silhouette nods, "To that I can agree, and yet we possess many similarities." She sips from her drink, setting it aside. "And what do you gain for these oaths? Without benefit, an oath is nothing more than a self-imposed shackle."
Orseas shakes his head slowly again, swirling the water around him. "We repay. Our oath is good."
Silhouette tilts her head, "Ah. So, this originates from a debt of some kind. That I do understand, Orseas. What must your people repay for? And how long must this debt perpetuate?"
"For the war. The oath is now." The verb tense is a matter for some hesitation, as if Orseas doesn't entirely know how to phrase what he wants to say in Thari.
Silhouette nods sagely, "If now, then what will your people do once they are released from this oath? What destiny will they forge in Rebma, or maybe beyond?" She leaned forwarded, an unreadable expression on her face. "Or will the Tritons even desire the opportunity to create their own future? Do you not dream of a shared Purpose? Other than serving Queens not of your blood."
A somewhat confused expression passes over Orseas' face. "We serve. We serve the Queen. Yours and also ours."
Silhouette raises a brow. She lowers her voice slightly, "Do you mean you also serve Vialle? For, as much love as I have for Celina, Vialle is my true queen. Or do you only serve the Throne of Rebma, and the woman that resides upon it?"
Orseas has to think about something Silhouette has said. Maybe he doesn't remember who Vialle was. "We serve she who holds our Oath."
She nods, smiling pleasantly. She suspected she'd found her answer in that. "So, if Moire should return, your Oath would be to her? Or another Queen, if Celina's reign ended?"
"To the true Queen of Rebma," Orseas clarifies, as if that makes any more sense than anything else he's said. But maybe it does to the inhuman senses of a Triton.
Silhouette nods once again, smiling. "Understandable." She sets her 'empty' glass aside and begins to rise. "Please take me to the Triton quarter, if you will? I wish to familiarize myself with the region where Prince Huon will be sequestered."
She looks up at the creature, "Orseas? When you and your people are ready to progress beyond simply serving the Will of another, come to me for Enlightenment. I see great Potential in you, and find your race utterly fascinating. I would see you explore that Potential further."
She lightly touches his scaled arm, "But, for now, might you teach me some rudimentary Triton words as we walk? And try not to gain too much amusement from my poor grasp of languages."
"I do not think you have the tongue," Orseas says, 'rising' to move with her, careful with his long tail not to swat anyone as they leave the tavern, or even to disturb their food or drink with the current of his massive bulk passing.
She glances up at him, "My loss for neglecting my fish-face lessons." She puckers her lips and makes a dignified 'O'. A pleasant chuckle follows. "Truly, though. Do not dismiss me so quickly. Allow me the opportunity to try and fail, at the very least."
She lightly touches his tail, smiling hopefully.
Orseas twitches when she touches his tail, much as a cat might. The caress doesn't evoke a reflexive swat at her, but she can feel the rippling muscle under the surface of the scales, and the slight stutter in his motion as he propels himself through the streets. He could move much more quickly than he does, Silhouette thinks.
Silhouette tries to pick up the pace, using long, arching strides. She finds herself fascinated by the creature's musculature and movement, and the possibilities its physicality might provide. "Orseas, I ask this out of respect, not mockery," she says. "Have Rebman warriors ever ridden Tritons into battle? Considering your size, I would think you more than easily bearing a rider."
"We carry. Rebmans do not ride." Apparently that's a touchy subject; Orseas doesn't sound very happy about it.
Silhouette offers a sympathetic smile, "Yes, but is it that distinction that the Rebmans understand, Orseas? Simply because the horse is in front of the carriage, it does not mean it leads the way. Yet the burden remains its to carry."
She shrugs slightly. "This is a time of tumult, my friend. You should use it to your advantage and redefine your people's role in Rebma. Before the silt settles once more and your roles are defined for you." A pause, then another benevolent smile. "I understand, more than you may think. And I would serve you and your people, if you allowed it."
His head tilts toward her. "You would serve us?"
Silhouette gives him a sage nod, "Indeed. I am a Preceptor of the Grand Design. It is my Duty to serve." With a slight flourish of her hand, she adds, "We would need to define my role, of course. I do not serve blindly. That would be detrimental to your people, and Progress must be maintained."
"The Queen will mislike this," Orseas says.
Silhouette raises a brow. For a moment, she adopts Triton mannerism of not-speak. A faint snort eventually escapes her. “My cousin is Queen. By her position’s very nature, she will ‘mislike’ a great many things.”
She tilts her head, eyes as cold as the deepest waters. “Do you wish to dismiss this opportunity, then? I do not serve those who willing abandon their future for the risk of another’s displeasure.”
Orseas tilts his head again; the gesture seems to hold some meaning for Tritons that may be lost on Silhouette. "Our fate is what it is. You are the one with much to lose, two-fins."
Silhouette gives a dark laugh, "There is nothing they might take from me that I have not already lost, including my life. There is nothing they can threaten me with that I have not already suffered."
She steps closer, rising up, her expression becoming on of steel and flame. "The question is, Orseas, would my sacrifice possess meaning? Or would your people squander the opportunity I provided them?"
"We will endure either way, fingerling." Orseas does not sound unkind, merely distant and old. "You are not the first, you would not be the last. But we have our own dreams and will not trade an old slavery for a new."
“Then, you possess a wisdom that most do not,” Silhouette replies coolly. “I have been a slave. Stripped down to little more than teeth and tissue. I endured. But only when I realized I wore my shackles by choice did I become free. I shall never wear the shackles of another, be they forged of metal or words.”
She lifts her chin, regarding the Triton. “Anything can be endured, Orseas. All pains are soothed by the balms of cowardice and apathy.”
Orseas shrugs slightly. "Our shackles are by our Mother's choice."
“Then it is to her I must speak,” Silhouette says in a tone that eliminates argument. She sighs inwardly. Do all mothers constrain their children so? Torture them in the name of love? Would she perpetuate such travesties? Her hand goes to her belly, nervous, thoughts of Huon itching in her mind, and then blessed relief for the emptiness she knows is there.
“Please,” she adds gently.
"It is not mine to say. The road to her is long," Orseas says.
Silhouette nods, “I understand. I shall walk this road, if you direct me to it. One must know where to begin before they can take their first steps.”
Orseas looks down at the tiny (to him anyway) human. "First you must earn entrance to the Hierophant. He will send you onward. If." Orseas doesn't elaborate on if what, but that's probably because the if is obvious to him.
“Then I should like to speak with the Hierophant,” she replies, dipping her head respectfully. “Please take me to him.”
She resumes her leisurely pace, and then turns her head, smiling. “And thank you, Orseas. I hope I may repay your graciousness some day.”
"Thank me if you live," Orseas says, as if he considers that not a possibility. They are crossing into the Triton quarter now, and the guards wave them through. Some silent communication passes between the guards and Orseas. "The Queen is at the Temple," he tells Silhouette.
Silhouette is more intrigued by the Triton form of communication than Orseas’ pronouncement. Telepathy of some kind? A spiritual link, perhaps? They did appear to have some animistic leanings. She sighs. So much to learn from them, and so little time.
She gives him a sideways glance, “Shall we wait until she leaves? If there is risk to you, I will not allow it. Otherwise, my presence here can easily be explained without raising suspicion.”
Orseas seems indifferent, as difficult as it is to tell his emotions. "It is for you to decide."
“Then, let us observe how the new Queen reacts to my arrival, shall we?” Silhouette says. “If asked directly, tell her that I wished to learn more of the Triton culture, as this is the truth. No need to expound upon my true Purpose.”
She allows him to lead her into the temple. “Can you communicate with the Hierophant and inform him of my coming arrival?” This is not a request, but a question.
"Of course," replies Orseas. He does not do anything to act on this, apparently. A temple attendant--a priest, or an acolyte or perhaps some sort of servant, moves towards one of the side passages.
With her suspicions confirmed, Silhouette adds, “You may also wish to relay my true intentions to him, if you have not already. The sooner I can prove myself to him, the better.
Given the length of the tritons, the architecture of the building make sense: passageways sprial inward from the edges, allowing a twenty foot trailing body to trail where it will.
She follows, taking in the striking architecture with intense scrutiny. Her respect for the Tritons increases with each new marvel. Yes, there is much she can achieve with this race. And not for the first time, she muses on their daily existence in such impressive bodies. Not envy, per se, but more academic curiosity.
Celina watches [Brennan and Fletcher] go for a long time. Even when they are not in sight, she concentrates on them, willing them to make a clean passage and to find no 'little annoyances' that may have been added to the path. An hour passes before she finds she has imagined them distant enough to satisfy.
The triton does not move.
She looks up at the Triton, expecting him to be in exactly the same spot. She does not smile now. "Who else has passed into the Sacred Way in the last five years?"
The Triton looks at her for a long time, not saying anything. A less-experienced Triton talker might think she would never get an answer. Finally the large creature speaks. "None I know of. Ask the Temple."
He seems interested in returning to his guard spot now that Sirs Brennan and Fletcher have departed.
"Thank you for your service." Celina nods once to him and heads for the Temple. She slides the scepter back into the sheath.
When Celina crosses the district, she moves now with little disguise, her stance is wary, but she is in a Pattern frame of mind. She strides upon the Leviathan of Her City. Her bare feet are as attentive as her eyes.
Celina is observed. No one interferes or intercepts her, but she is observed.
Arriving at the Temple, she asks for audience with the Triton speaking for the Guardians of the Sacred Way.
In short order, the Heirophant comes in to the vast chamber. He has on his full priestly regalia. All Triton chambers are vast. It's a necessity of architecture when you need a place for Tritons to assemble.
"Your Highness," says the old Triton.
"Your Eminence, I hope you and your Brothers are well," Celina nods once slowly. "I am interested in speaking of the Sacred Way, the cave path guarded by the Tritons. I will be using that path for Rebma's protection. What are Your standing orders for its protection? Who has used this route in recent years?"
He looks at her, considering. His tail sways slightly as he does so, stirring a mild current. "In recent years, Highness? Lord Conner and party departed by that route, without showing a token. Before that, it may have been during your mother-the-Queen's reign that someone passed with official sanction.
"The charge is to protect the passage, and to allow only those who have a token to pass. It is an honor we bear from the original treaty between your people and the Sons of the Dragon."
"Thank you, the Throne approves of limited use of this passage," Celina says simply for his response. "What tokens are recognized? I have emissaries passed through that may wish to come back to me with news. And what does honor require the Triton guard to do with those who do not have an approved token?"
The Hierophant sways slightly, clockwise. "It is our responsibility to protect the entrance. A warrior in defense of a cavern should leave his body to block the opening. Reinforcements would arrive shortly to aid in the defense."
Either of the tokens, the sword or the scepter, may be used to obtain passage.
Not the jewel. Interesting. Celina nods. She considers how she want to amend the instructions about tokens. "Do the Tritons keep track of my Family that presents itself to my Court? Obviously they know my immediate Family on sight, but would they recognize Ambrose, for instance? I want provide for a case where someone coming from the Sacred Way can prove they seek my Court for reasons that benefit Rebma."
"My Queen, the Tritons are not aware of who may be on your business and who is not. The tokens are, I think, a tool to allow us to recognize the bearer as someone who may pass."
He looks sad. "It might be very difficult to teach our Tritons to recognize your Family on sight."
He dismisses the thought and changes the subject. "Why do you call it 'the Sacred Way'?"
"I might call it many things," Celina responds. "It is a passage of vows and honor and blood and secrets. It will be important as long as Rebma stands. Very well, from what you say, I shall have to verify any visitors without token myself.
"Is not the Queen's command better proof than a token, Your Eminence? Why did the guard ask Me to show right to passage? Do the Tritons have any trouble recognizing me on sight?"
The Hierophant undulates, perhaps in a way that indicates agreement. "Yes, Your majesty. I believe that is why the tokens were established. If you wish to have the road be used, we will need to provide more watchtritions."
"Yes," Celina nods, "we certainly do. I take it from your current arrangements that a Triton downed is known almost immediately by other Triton brothers? In that case I think doubling the watch should be sufficient for now." Celina goes on to explain that a new posting will also be the Fire Gate, where travelers to the Court may suddenly appear walking out of a rainbow seam. Two Tritons at the Fire Gate will circle above the Gate, high enough to see the Rebman Watch, as secondary defense and act if the Rebman Guard there are overwhelmed.
The Hierophant nods. He is from an oral culture and she can assume he is skilled at remembering.
Celina considers several interesting aspects of the Tritons inability to readily distinguish human faces and manner. They are all linked, and Orseas is nearly her Triton Uncle, with an attention to her she can feel from his TaKhi even when he is not very near. She realizes that somehow the Oath to Guard and Obey a single person changes the Triton in some manner.
So she moves on to Like matters that should be addressed. "Eminence, was Orseas the personal Triton of Moins? If not, who was that worthy? I wish to meet with him."
The great being frowns, remembering details. "He was not, my queen. That custom is newer. Your predecessor's predecessor did not allow Tritons in the castle. That was before my time."
Celina follows that with, "I am on a journey to seek Harmony to my own Blood and so I ask the Tritons to share with me their memories of my Predecessor's Predecessor. In my Family, she would be my Honored Granddam. She died defending the Realm. Those Tritons with her in her Last Battle would have passed recollections to their offspring? How do the Tritons carry the Legacy of Oaths and Knowledge? I had presumed you were all many centuries old."
The triton undulates again and chooses to answer the last comment.. "We do not live as long as you presume, in this reality. It is not a thing I can explain. We are not as you are. Persistence is different for us."
"Then I would be honored if you tell me what you know about Moins Last Battle," Celina undulates a small pleasure.
A triton comes to the entrance to the chamber, makes a few odd moves, and leaves.
The Hierophant looks almost surprised. "There is another human seeking audience with me, your highness. One of your family, it seems. Would you prefer to continue our conversation or shall we find its business in the temple?"
Celina takes a certain delight in hearing the genderless reference to Family Business. So...someone the Tritons CAN distinguish as her Blood. Probably not Ambrose, who might be most inquisitive. She doesn't think the lack of gender is an honorific or a mistake or a Chaos reference. She believes the Tritons may not really think about the sex nature of humans at all. Just as Celina has not until now considered how exactly Tritons share their own history. Their history is not a communal pool, or the Eminence would speak differently of these ancient events. Yes, there is an oral/kinetic component to their language, but there is also something more distinctly inherited or ...physically passed on. The right Triton might know more.
"There is time for history later. We will discuss it after this interruption. This will also allow time for you to send for any Triton that may know more about the Last Battle of the Queen than you do, Youthful Eminence. Let us go see what business there is with my Family."
Celina paces herself to enter the Temple proper with the Hierophant at her side.
"The study of history is not a thing our people do, your highness. It is not an art we find pleasurable. We are a people of the present and the future."
Celina and the Hierophant enter the temple. Shortly thereafter, Orseas enters from the far end, with Silhouette.
Celina smiles at Orseas and nods to Silhouette. "Well, I understand you are interested in speaking to the Hierophant. May I remain, Cousin?"
“My Queen. It is always a pleasure to be in your company,” Silhouette says, offering her cousin a tender smile. “Of course, you may remain. Forgive me if I have disturbed your business here.”
She kneels before the Hierophant, “Your Eminence. Thank you for allowing me to speak with you today. I am Princess Kaberio. Although, I believe, my name would be Dolphin in languages more familiar to you.” She waits for his permission to rise.
"'An Airbreather-in-Water,' replies the Heirophant, in Thari. "What brings you to The Temple?"
Celina takes the moment to study Silhouette.
Silhouette nods her solemnly, “I am a Preceptor of the Grand Design, your Eminence. As such, it is my Duty to Learn and to Serve. I have come to the Temple to accomplish both.”
She gestures to her companion, “Orseas has been an excellent teacher. But only you may guide me upon the Path to True Illumination. With your permission, I would begin this journey.”
The giant creature seems uncertain how to respond. "I am not used to speaking to your kind, Dolphin. Please be more clear in your request. Know, too that I have many obligations as Hierophant and little discretionary time to guide people of your kind. Paths are a thing of your people and your queen, not of ours or our Mother."
Silhouette nods promptly, “I shall be plain, then. I wish to meet with your Mother. I am told only you may place me on this long road. This is my request, your Eminence.” She bows her head.
Celina raises one eyebrow in delight. Silhouette is full of the best surprises. Celina watches Orseas and the Hierophant for TaKhi reactions. She looks for undulations that do not follow the flow of the water for the possible emotive readings.
The great triton hardly moves as he considers his reply. After what seems like it is almost too long, the great Fish/Man speaks. "I am unwilling to be the agent of your death, and would deny your request on that ground alone. In addition, I am duty bound to prevent a resumption of war between our peoples, a duty both to her majesty and to my own people, who are hostages against such an occurrence."
What do you wish to gain by such a meeting?"
“Enlightenment,” Silhouette replies, as if this word encompasses all and everything in between. She lifts her head, resolute. “I desire answers only she may provide. If this means my death, so be it. Death comes for us all.”
She steps forward, “War is not my Purpose, your Eminence. Only Progress. I ask that you allow me to serve this Purpose and to serve your people,”
Celina widens her appreciation of the lengths Silhouette will go to for Enlightenment. She turns the history around and looks at it from other cultures. The Dragon of Arden was chained. The Mother of Tritons negotiated a solution to War. Both Masters of Chaos were too far from the Realms of DisOrder to win the day.....but one of them got a say in how they lost. Celina hopes she does as well with the coming trials of the Throne. And how many different courses does Silhouette believe she can serve? Huon? Celina? Tritons?
Clearly, the Grand Design means everything can be served at once.
Regardless, Celina holds her tongue and waits for the Hierophant's response. Small steps. Celina allows a look of interest to light her face. She casts an encouraging expression at his Eminence, as if to say, 'please do explain the agent of your death part again.'
The Master of the Temple refuses all spoken and unspoken requests. "No. It is my duty to refuse you. Is there anything else the Temple may do for you?"
Silhouette bows her head respectfully, “I understand Duty, and shall respect your decision. I only ask to be allowed to serve you and your people, Eminence. If such an arrangement would be acceptable, please call upon me.”
She steps back and makes to turn... only to pause once more. A curious smile curls her lips. “Inquiry. If the Oath persists by the Mother’s choice, then why would speaking with her risk the resumption of war? Are your shackles so easily slipped?”
"No oath persists by one choice. No purpose is easily slipped when Duty is understood." Celina looks at Silhouette with a colder eye. "Silhouette, you are giving me the impression that the Grand Design is a form of contract law debate."
Silhouette bows her head respectfully, “The Grand Design’s Purpose is to inspire Progress. To move Creation closer to Perfection. While Oaths may - and do - play an important role in this regard, they frequently invite Stagnation. This is detrimental for both parties involved. Hence, my interest in the Oath binding Triton and Rebmans together. And my desire to speak with the Mother to gain a better understanding of it.
"Surely, others have pursued this line in inquiry before me." She folds her hands together, "And certainly will do so after me."
The Triton sways back and forth, in the body language of his kind. "They will all be rebuffed equally. Desist your fruitless quest, Ordered One, lest we all come to regret your actions."
Silhouette bows her head, “Of course, your Eminence. I am Yours, should you require it.”
He turns to Celina. "If your highness needs nothing further from me, I must arrange to make the changes you have requested."
"Thank you for our time together, Your Eminence. A worthy discussion," Celina nods and undulates a freeing motion in his direction.
It starts as a stride, Celina slides upward and forward towards Silhouette and Orseas. She never quite comes down to the floor until she is near them. She waits for her Cousin to make her farewells, then indicates with a nod the exit, and the chance of more discussion.
Dismissed, Silhouette curtsies to the esteemed Triton and joins Celina. Her sweeping movements are more refined now, liquid and graceful as any Rebman. She smiles at the woman, “You wish to speak with me, my Queen?”
"Is there a reason you prefer Silhouette to AirBreatherInWater?" Celina asks. "Does Preceptor mean teacher in your tongue of the Grand Design? I learn a lot from you."
“Correct. One of the Preceptor’s Duties is to provide Enlightenment. If you have learned from me, then my Purpose is fulfilled.” She smiles with pride at this. “I only hope I might continue to serve you, my Queen.”
The smile fades slightly. “As to my name. ‘Kaberio’ is my given name. ‘Silhouette’ is the name I earned." Her face hardens at this. "As such, the latter holds more meaning to me. However, as the AirBreatherInWater is an important part of Triton mythology, I believed they would respond more favorably to my given name.”
"Ah," Celina nods. "Rebma is a place where flexibility is leverage if it mirrors Order." She smiles at her Cousin, pauses checking Silhouette's face to see if the compliment actually made sense to her. "When I first came here, I thought diplomacy was the rule. That is not really the case you may have seen. With the Tritons," here she smiles over her shoulder at Orseas still following behind Silhouette, "well, they keep their own Order while living in ours. I myself had not realized how inflexible the Tritons can be."
Celina points to a main street uptown as they come to the intersection, choosing a path that will allow them a long talk on the way back to the palace.
Silhouette’s grateful smile hints that Celina’s compliment has not gone unrecognized. She lightly dips her head and follows, eager for the opportunity to speak at length. “I find the Tritons soothing,” she admits. “They are unfettered by doubt or inefficiency. A noble breed. However, their inflexibility is detrimental. As elegant as steel can be, it is brittle and easily broken. As such, I fear for them.” She casts a sympathetic look in Orseas’ direction.
Her eyes return to Celina, “As Queen, how will you serve them? For they are now your responsibility.”
"My life is sworn to the future of Rebma now. The Tritons are a changing part of that legend and so part of my duty. Serving them? That's too small a part of all this. I'm learning how to embrace Order for the city. The Tritons intend to be part of that Order. I hope you will become part of that Order. Kaberio, I have decided to believe you did not intend to serve the Chaosi and crush this city. You made a mistake. You fell from the Grand Design. Once Huon is here, we may discuss it with him. Perhaps we can all learn something."
Silhouette nods, “Rebma’s Progress is paramount to the Grand Design. And this opportunity for change – as misguided as it was – cannot be wasted, lest your people fall into Stagnation once more. I am yours, my Queen, in whatever role you deem fit.”
She brushes the black fronds of hair from her face, “You find yourself in a precarious position, however. Your previous Queen did not establish herself before her unfortunate end. How will you separate yourself from her, and the Queen-in-Exile? How will you define your rulership?"
"I spared you. I spared Huon." Celina sounds as if this is a good thing, an inevitable thing that she has done. "The enormity of what was attempted against us demanded no mercy in return. Yet there is mercy. Stagnation is thrown down."
Silhouette provides Celia with an impartial look - all stone and steel in her unknowable eyes.
Celina unobtrusively studies the faces they pass. She adjusts her cowl and slows her pace. She finds herself sending a song into the currents that churn within her heart. 'Forgive me, Moins. Forgive me, Khela. Mercy does not lessen my love.'
Celina looks at Silhouette. "If you ask of the future, well, then be part of it with us and weave Order. It shall be more illuminating than anything you have experienced so far. That is a promise."
“An intriguing offer to be certain,” Silhouette says. An odd smile curls the corner of her lips. “For more reasons than I might admit freely. So, I shall hold you to your promise and bear witness.”
She glances about her, silent for a moment. “In what capacity will you utilize me?” She raises a delicate brow, "Have you reconsidered my previous offer?"
Celina laughs. "Take heart. I've reconsidered it more than once. You and I will have to swim some years before I stop considering." She chuckles again. "If you become part of this Order..." Celina gestures to five youngsters playing on the garden roof above them as they pass into a better district, and the sweep of her hand also describes the busy horizon of the city as she brings it down again. "...then you will also redefine your own capacity. While we live, there is no capacity we cannot aspire to. I have a feeling that you do not specialize in killing. That weaponmaker was only a means to an end for you. Am I very far off?" Her tone is obviously open to being corrected.
Silhouette smiles faintly at Celina’s answer. Her gaze follows the woman’s gesture, but her judgment remains solely her own.
At Celina’s question, she shrugs, nonchalant. “I’ve long forgotten how many lives I’ve taken, my Queen. But there are others far more skilled at Death than I. Nor do I gain pleasure in it. Usually. So, am I ‘specialized’ in killing? No. But certainly ‘familiar’ with the trade. I would be lax in my Purpose were I not.”
"Lax in your purpose? Oh my." Celina thinks a bit about that. She sees darkness but necessity in those words. "Well, in my limited experience, if someone in this family wants to do something, they intend to do it well. I guess I was assuming you were really good at it. There are various ways for me to interpret that you've long forgotten how many deaths are yours."
“I killed a man roughly a fortnight ago. I do not recall his face. He was of no consequence beyond that he attacked me. I’ve encounter many such fools,” Silhouette admits. “But I remember my Overseer’s every wrinkle and blemish. They way he slurred his ‘R’s when he attempted to speak Hydran. The way his grimy hands felt on my young breast. Oh yes, I recall him very well. Particularly, the way he screamed in the end.” Guilty pleasure warms her lips.
“Death is known to me. But I am an artificer, not an assassin,” she adds, looking over at her companion. “Interpret the distinction as you wish.”
Celina interprets the distinction in silence. She does look at Silhouette's face a couple times. Once Celina nods at her. The Queen's eyes flux color in a range of green ocean thoughtful and also forest leaf tender, as if the silence has invoked some tender moment or odd memory that must be savored before being put away again. The pleasant walk back to the palace includes Celina's nods to those passersby that recognize the Queen strolling the street with Adviser and Triton guard. Once inside the palace Celina motions to Silhouette to continue with her and they soon arrive back in the inner chamber where they first had a serious chat so many days ago.
Celina slides into a soft seating pillow tossing her cowl onto a very low table. "I'm hungry." She calls through the open door, "Orseas, please lasso a gwas this way."
When a young girl arrives, Celina asks for food with a certain emphasis of savory zest. "Platters for my guest and myself and we may have someone joining us."
Silhouette raises a brow at this, but says nothing.
Celina sinks lower in the pillow when the chamber gwas departs.... folding like a tired flower at twilight. "I never thought you were an assassin. I meant no insult but I can see you may have felt there was a judgment from me. Instead you should realize something; this Family values competence, and you have it."
“You are gracious to say so, my Queen,” Silhouette bows her head in thanks. “I strive for Perfection in my Purpose, and all other undertakings. If you - an avatar - recognize that proficiency, then I am most pleased.”
She settles into her pillow, stretching out like a sun-baked panther. “How do you view Order, Celina. What is your vision and how will I be a part of it?”
"Order is you and I getting better at what we are and what we accomplish," Celina responds quickly with a low intimate voice that does not carry. "Order is creating and protecting the thriving life. Order is understanding our choices, and sometimes taking a choice that is not what we want but what we shall need. You are part of it ....I am part of it... as we get smarter about the choices we are a better part of it. How do you see Order in Rebma, my Cousin? Why would you serve me in sustaining Order? Why serve a single woman when you can serve the Grand Design?"
“Rebma represents a convergence of Order. And you are an avatar of the Grand Design, Celina,” Silhouette says in a half-purr. “Your rulership will resonate throughout Creation. As such, by serving you, I can advance the Grand Design in a capacity far beyond that I could accomplish elsewhere.”
She smiles warmly, “You also possess an Insight far beyond your peers, as well as a deep desire for Enlightenment. You also lack an insular nature, which would hinder Progress. Finally, I've observed your instinctive awareness of the Grand Design's precepts. For these reasons, I believe we could move Rebma and its people toward Perfection. And why I shall be yours, if you wish it.”
"....if I wish it," Celina murmurs softly, looking at her hands and feeling the sparks there ghosting in her blood. There is a scratch at the door. Celina's voice is crisp and carries. "Come."
Two young girls enter and sort a wealth of platters onto a side bench. A plate of green and blue crisps is put nearer to Celina and the discarded cowl is picked up and taken away as they both leave with a rehearsed simultaneous bow.
The door closes and Celina smiles. "Oh, good lines," Celina wonders if she should start a TaKhi exercise class for the mornings. Maybe. Her fingers dance out and she nibbles a crisp.
"Well, let's chat about what sort of role you would thrive in. You would have to set aside promises to other Lords of Creation... or explain to me how your previous oaths did not conflict with Rebma's interests. That seems a good place to start. I already have a Spy, a Sage, a Diplomat, a Hero, and several Sorcerers." Celina looks at Silhouette, dragging her thoughts around to view the Lady as other Rebmans might. Her bearing is sound, the lines are good. She's drawn to people, even tactile in the Rebman fashion. "I offered the Artificer position to another Cousin, so I'd not offer it to you before I heard something from them." Celina shifts position, sliding out of draped composure and reverse melting up to her feet. "How much do you know about Rebman fashions? How fast could you become interested?" She stalks over to the full platters of food and starts assembling a healthy dose of pleasures.
Sensing Celina’s appraising gaze, Silhouette stretches with a moray’s liquid grace. There’s no mistaking her instinctual understanding of sensual form and movement, without ever resorting to crude blatancy. In many ways, she is the embodiment of her true name - a terrestrial creature perfectly at home in an aquatic realm. For now, though, she remains in her chair, ignoring the food.
She listens without comment, only raising a dark brow at the end. “Rebman fashion, as well as the prevailing styles in behavior, intrigue me. Each outfit generally reflects both the status and desire of the wearer. Some more than others, of course. There is a subtle interplay of light, movement, and palette; each nuisance reflecting a different Purpose. One might say there is a counter-intuitiveness to certain colorations, but observe the behavior of coral fish and Insight will be gained.”
She tilts her head, the brow rising higher. “Why?”
Celina licks her fingers turning back to Silhouette. Celina smiles as Silhouette answers, as if the response is spot on. "If the Young Queen displays the creations of a foreign Gwneuthurwr....Maker.... this may open relationships for you. It also may confer a subtle accessibility upon you. Elegant Order embodied, if you will, is infectious. People here like to look their best. Especially if it ....provides a Court advantage." Celina shakes her head in a sudden negative. "Perhaps not. It is too late to pretend you did not have a strong role in Huon's parlay. Would a Prince of Amber rely on a Couturemaker to carry messages? Fantastic gowns require math and discipline to create.......it's a hide in plain sight sort of idea." Celina pokes fingers into the caviar and transfers it neatly to her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
Silhouette watches the woman eat with earnest amusement. The smile broadens with Celina’s every savoring bite. Her head settles back on the pillow, mulling this suggestion over with honest delight. “I fear my haute courture reflects survival over sensuality, my Queen. Function over fashion. True, I can weave materials as light as silk and resilient as steel. But, as an armorer, I’d never considered incorporating more... fashionable elements into my constructs.” She gives a delighted laugh.
Pushing off from the chair, she floats toward the table of food. She drifts by Celina, allowing the warm currents surrounding her to brush over the woman’s skin. “Note, however, you would risk my mother’s disapproval. Keeping me as a laborer or curious pet might avoid her notice. But as your mistress of fashion and poise? No, that little insult she would not forgive.”
"Fashion is a lady's armor, and I can tell you have sensuality to add to your art, even if you never have," Celina shrugs. "Florimel may think me foolish for asking you to help....but...." Celina shakes her head, "....no, I think you are wrong about her. Adding your efforts to strengthen the kingdom would intrigue her. Laborer? Pet? That would be deadly to both of us."
Silhouette dips her head, “Very well, my Queen. I shall weave you a garment worthy of your beauty and dignity. If it meets your approval, I shall continue to serve you thusly.” A sly chuckle escapes her as she selects some offers for her plate. “And I promise you this. . . your final fitting shall not parallel the fable of the Emperor’s New Clothing.”
She pops a shrimp into her mouth and smirks, “Unless that particular presentation would appeal to you, of course.”
Silhouette’s cocks her head, “On that note, what message do you wish to express?”
Celina smiles, "Grand Design. We're moving forward. Rebma is going to be more important than ever before. Wake up and join us or be left in the last century." She laughs. "How's that for a start?"
Silhouette considers this for a moment, her eyes drifting over Celina appraisingly. In the end, she gives a professional nod. “Very well. I will draft three possible outfits and you may chose which best reflects your Desire. It will be an interesting change; although I shall greatly miss the feel of axle grease on my hands.”
She assembles a curious selection of foods and retires to her chair. “If you are to embrace a renewed nationalism, might I ask what form that shall take? From your statement, I would believe you wish to take an expansionistic approach, and dismiss the isolationist tendencies the Rebmans once had.” She quietly samples some braised sea cucumber, waiting.
"You may be putting a meaning to that I do not intend," Celina adds some extras to a plate, planning to reclaim a seat as well. "For instance, I do not seek territory. I seek Order. Does Order seek to expand? Why yes, I think it does. We make the Chaosi nervous with organization and the way it creeps into places. If Order does not expand, does it become Tyranny? Good notion that. Not sure myself."
Silhouette offers a sagely smile, “For Progress to occur, Order must develop. It must embrace new ideas and concepts, or Stagnation will corrupt it from within. Such growth can only be accomplished by expansion, specifically through interaction with other cultures. If you do not seek territory, per say, then you must focus on Commerce. Not only will Rebma benefit from the influx of trade - both commercial and intellectual - its influence will inspire Order in those it deals with. That influence will likely be empowered by the Pattern.”
She twists a prawn around in a chili sauce, “Query. Why do you think I was so easily convinced Rebma should be cast down?”
"You are telling me something I did not presume," Celina looks immediately into Silhouette's eyes. "How many guesses do I get, Dolphin of Secrets?"
Silhouette smiles softly, “For you, my Queen, I shall allow three - the Sacred number.” She bites into the heavily spiced prawn, immune to its fire. “But, as you do so, recall that I was unaware of its Pattern. Huon made certain of that. And for good reason.”
"Guess one, Huon told you that the Queen of Rebma was an evil bitch that had done away with his nephew and killed the rightful queen?"
Silhouette gives a vague shrug, “His words regarding Rebma’s leadership were disparaging, yes. However, this information was irrelevant in my decision. Indeed, the Grand Design rarely takes philosophical concepts such as ‘evil’ into account.” She dips another prawn, stirring as she waits.
Celina wrinkles her nose thinking. "Well, you used the words 'easily convinced'....so nothing of the living in Rebma was part of what convinced you. You would get something from the ruins. Ah, did he tell you that you would get a chance to study an artifact of Order?"
Silhouette shakes her head, “Your understanding of me does your credit. But sadly, he did not inform me of such an opportunity. Huon only mentioned his need to acquire a weapon capable of matching his brother’s. I believed that Desire, and his proposed Actions, served the Grand Design, as they would likely result in Rebma’s fall. However, had he evened hinted at the Pattern’s existence, I would have inquired more deeply into his Actions. A lapse I most wholly regret, as that oversight may have resulted in grave consequences.”
She sucks the peppery meat from a snail. “Ultimately, the Grand Design was upheld in many regards, but only through mere providence.” A dark frown. “And I do not deal in luck.”
She tilts her head, “Final guess, my Queen.”
"Did Huon tell you that the City was already dead?"
Silhouette’s head lifts up, her eyes glowing like dark embers. “And now you discover the truth of it, my Queen.” She smiles, greatly pleased with her companion’s insight.
“Huon wove his tales of Rebman’s decline, playing upon my unwavering faith in the Grand Design. He told me of Stagnation. A city slowly dying from isolation and ignorance, led by a Queen unwilling to bring Progress for her People. And that cannot be allowed. Entropy is like a cancer, Celina. It infects Creation. For the Greater Good, it must be cut out wherever it is found.”
The triumph fades from her features, “But, the Solution was inelegant, despite the success that has been achieved here.”
"As you do not trust to luck, why did you believe him?" Celina sits on the upper part of the sponge couch near Silhouette. Her expression is one of a sculptor studying a model to begin a masterpiece.
Silhouette sighs deeply, unable to meet Celina’s gaze. An intense flash of self-loathing darkens her beauty. “He presented himself as an agent of Order. The Grand Design made flesh and blood. Until then, I had not encountered one such as he... a member of our Family. One touched by the Pattern itself. He played upon my faith. He played upon my pride. And like a naïve child, I believed his every word.”
She finally glances in Celina’s direction; shame etched into her stony features. “I thought him a god. When he was only a man.”
"Wrong. He was not only a man, Cousin, he is a Prince of Amber. If I am an Avatar of Order, then so is he," Celina speaks softly in a voice that seems suited to a bedchamber. "It begs the question of his corruption to work at such Destruction and favor such Chaos, even if in fear for his life, which is his steadiest claim so far in his own defense. Personally, I'd be a tad more sympathetic if he admitted to aberration due to long confinement. But you should consider what you've learned in light of where you are going. If he can mislead you as to Order, then why believe I am a better leader? You don't want to trust to luck this time either, yes?" Celina seems to be taking the discussion to a more personal level. She's lost the Purposeful Look.
Silhouette lays her head down against the head rest, curling her body serenely. Her gaze is distant, reflective. “No, Celina. I do not. I have gained Enlightenment. At great cost. To myself and others. And yet, the Grand Design must be served. I can no sooner cease breathing. I will serve you. I shall serve Order. But I shall be vigilant this time.”
Her gaze refocuses on Celina, her voice softening. “Perhaps more so with you. You disarm me in ways I fear to express.”
"Ah, Dolphin," Celina moves up and over to her cousin seemingly arcing through the water merely from a flexing off the balls of her feet. She settles above Silhouette and puts a light kiss on her temple. "Meeting the Family....being offered so clear a beacon..." She shakes her head and strokes fingers just lightly through Silhouette's hairline above where she touched her lips. "I do know how intoxicating it is. I had no sister or mother to ease me into it either. Vigilance is a good idea.....for both of us."
Silhouette’s body burns from within - her skin warm against Celina’s lips. She closes her eyes, trembling at the touch. When they open again, the stony mask has crumbled away like dust. She stares up at Celina, fearful and yearning. She licks her lips, suddenly shy. “I wish to serve you. And yet, you are dangerous for me, Celina. For the first time, in as long as I can recall, I wish to hear my Old Name spoken by someone. On your lips, it sounds welcome.
“And that terrifies me.”
Celina points to herself even as she moves back a bit to give Silhouette more personal space. "Me? Not a scary person. Huon, he's scary. You can handle him. You can handle me."
Silhouette snares Celina’s wrist, but her grip is gentle... tender in its appeal. “Huon did not make me feel this... confusion. Not even in our most intimate moments. I remained vigilant with him. Distant.” She gives a shy chuckle. “But, I would have the distance between us fall away, rather than remain. Such selfishness is unbecoming.”
"Is it? I'm not so sure," Celina replies leaning forward in response to being held rather than maintaining the distance. She considers for a long moment. "Silhouette, I am a widow." She swallows. "I have also agreed to Guard the City, Mother the Populace, Monarch the Court, and serve the King. While you definitely fit into at least two of those responsibilities....do you think...." She sighs. "I don't know how far I'm going to stretch with the pain I have right now. Can you wait?"
Silhouette’s hand moves from Celina’s wrist to her cheek, lightly cupping it. A surprisingly human and tender smile graces her lips. “Of course, I can. I am yours, Celina. Your servant. Your friend. Your confidante.” Her fingertips, warm and silken, brush lower along Celina’s throat, so lightly they may not be touching her at all. “Your lover, if you wish it.
“I am and will be all of these things to you, if and when you need me to be.”
"You want to build, help, and preserve Order." Celina speaks softly as a mother to a daughter. "I am accepting you on your terms. Assist me in growing Order by dint of your sure hands. Leave my person to grief for the moment. The storm shall pass."
Silhouette dips her head reverently, “Of course, Celina. I am Child of Stone. Tempests wash over me, and yet I remain.”
She touches Celina’s hand, squeezing it with an unspoken promise.
"Khela would approve of my being bold and setting the Court back on their collective rump," Celina smiles a bit, but it is a very sad smile. "So please feel free to propose a gown for being the Most Ordered Queen to receive Uncle Huon when he gets here. You have a week or two I judge. Maybe less."
Silhouette nods to this, “I will require free access to supplies and tradeswomen. And you, of course. I will also need to know if you desire defensive and/or offensive aspects to be incorporated into the dress. After all, the most attractive prettiest creatures in the ocean are generally the most dangerous."
Celina nods once. Obviously this is the right idea.
“Once I have learned the properties of Rebman textiles - a day’s study, I suspect - I will begin fabricating the proper materials. I suspect I can create some stunning effects with precise placement of alginates.”
She tilts her head, pausing. A light touch of fingertips plays over Celina’s wrist. “And yes, my Queen. Khlea would most certainly approve. Of a great many things.”
"Precision hexabead nets are also done in metal. The gown art will appeal to you. Strength and precision are dear to the hearts of the Court." Celina sketches a path through the water as if signing a document. "You will have access to all the trades. Give your mark for the costs if anyone mentions costs. Defensive puzzles within the gown are fine with me but not armor per se. No offense but leave room for jewel complements. I may wear some favored pieces. Don't try to impress. Stun them with your ingenuity."
Silhouette follows Celina’s finger, memorizing its course. “Indeed. I believe I shall take inspiration from the cuttlefish and the 48th Law. Fluidity and formlessness, yet possessing authority and perfect. An ideal that shall inspire with every moment, every gesture, yet not blind or distract with gaudy accoutrements.” She places one hand in front of the other, and then juxtaposes them. “Using layering, I believe I can create many messages within the one. Something to appeal to all eyes. Be they of Earth or Water.”
"Good. I am interested in messages when you use your mind and hands directly. I look forward to being impressed by your Arts." Celina relaxes into a more liquid pose. She focuses on the food again. "I'd like to see some excitement in their eyes."
Silhouette gives a light nod, her gaze already somewhere else - working, planning.
As with all her projects, Silhouette plunges into the design and construction of Celina’s gown with religious fervor. The Queen’s carte blanche is put to expedient and effective use. Much of the time, she remains sequestered away, lost in the study Rebman fashion and textiles. Her interaction with Celina rarely departs beyond taking measurements of the woman’s entire body. Visitors to her quarters are many and varied; all experts in their trades. But now and again, she can be found observing and collecting Rebma’s flora and fauna - assembling an assortment of wax sketches and specimens that would impress any naturalist. If she sleeps, no one would know. . . her work hours apparently ceaseless. The strain behind her dark eyes reveals exertions far beyond moral kin – as if she is bleeding her soul into the very cloth. But there is method to her madness.
In the end, the haute couture gown exhibits a semblance of. . . life. An elegant chimera of fabric and flesh. Even the slightest current causes its surface to shimmer and transform – striations of dark color moving beneath its complex layering. Somehow, Silhouette has replicated a chromatophoric mechanism inside the sheer fabric, not unlike that used by octopi. The wearer’s movements alter the shape of pigment cells, resulting in complex, wavelike displays over color over the dress. Undoubtedly, a skilled individual could learn to manipulate the dress in such as fashion as to create complex color schemes with controlled gestures. Virtually undetectable shapes and openings have been woven into the layers through use of alginate fibers, allowing the stratums of deep red and earthen color to interact and accentuate one another. Finally, the under-layer, body-fitting and comfortable, perfectly matches Celina’s skin tone - creating an illusion of nudity, if not for the subtle fish scales. They catch any light filtering through the gown’s translucent layers, adding to the already startling effect. The corested front allows easily for the addition of jewelry and accoutrements without detracting or overshadowing. The gown’s long train is no less impressive. It trails behind the wearer like an elegant display of venomous fin rays. Other ‘spines’ drape of the elbows and shoulders, although much shorter to avoid hindering movement of the arms while gesturing. Indeed, one cannot view the wearer without thinking of the Lion Fish’s deadly beauty – the essence of a true aquatic Ruler.
Last modified: 25 July 2012