Down to the Bottom [Memory]

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A large forest in Central Anaxas, the once-thriving mostly human town of Dorhaven is recovering from a bombing in 2719 at its edge.

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Niccolette Ibutatu
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Tue Jul 30, 2019 2:00 pm

Late Night, 17 Loshis 2718
The Leroux Townhouse, Uptown, Vienda
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There were many parties during Vienda’s political season. Occasionally, there were also parties. This year, Adalgarius Leroux had decided to throw what he had – widely and enthusiastically – promised would be the event of the season for the Spring Equinox.

Adalgarius had spared no expense. The bottom two floors of his family’s town house had already been full of flowers when Fenella – Adalgarius’s new wife, not yet three months out of Brunnhold and six years younger than him – had suggested that it would be so lovely to have the party feel like a garden indoors. Like a little goodbye from Bethas, she had giggled, smiling at her husband.

The end result was a riotous tapestry of flowers and plants. The entryway into the house had been planted and re-planted with rainbow ivy, coaxed into thriving by a living conversationalist to bloom for the party, so that one arrived surrounded on all sides by yellow, violet, red and orange flowers, set on a distant, half-invisible bed of green. Crawling tendrils stretched over the brick-laid path, wrapped themselves around the decorative arches, and the path from the street to the door thick with crushed blooms within an hour of the party starting. There were so many that it almost didn’t matter; those who arrived late were treated to both the sight of flowers above and around, and what had effectively become a crushed carpet underfoot.

There were so many flowers in the ballroom that dancers had needed to move them out the way to make enough space for a waltz; flowers hung from the ceiling and draped over the walls. Different rooms had different (absurd) themes: one smaller study on the second floor was dedicated to the plants of Mugroba, cheerfully mixing bright, beautiful Muluku Island blooms with odd cacti from the Shifting Desert and even a pot of tall grasses from the Wakesho Steppes. Another, downstairs, seemed to have been utterly infested with Poorman’s Violets, with the occasional white flower only making the rest look more purple by comparison. Their sweet, sugary smell was so strong in the room that many too-drunk revelers had needed to leave, promptly, to avoid being sick. Most had succeeded; long-suffering human servants had swept invisibly in behind to clean up what those who failed had left behind.

Orchestral strains drifted from the main ballroom, out through the thrown-wide doors and down the corridors of the house, made narrow by awkwardly placed ferns and hanging pots. The stairs were so difficult to navigate that more than one wife had flatly refused to go upstairs, and dragged her husband back down to the ballroom (or, else, forsaken him entirely, and left him to his own devices on the second floor).

The only thing more plentiful than the plants was the alcohol. Here, too, Adalgarius had spared no expense. There was wine, yes, and naturally champagne, but most importantly there was liquor of all conceivable varieties, some circulating steadily. There were shots, of course, entire trays stacked high with gleaming little glass cups, and there were mixed drinks. There was, perhaps unsurprisingly, something of a flower theme. The Violet Airship was popular, with crème de violette, maraschino liquor, gin and lemon juice – dry and not too sweet. Fenella’s creation, the Princess Violette, was a mix of crème de violette and champagne; it might well have been lovely, but was utterly spoiled by the addition of three hearts peach liqueur. The end result was a sticky sweet purple mess, whose vibrant colors had reappeared more than once.

More conventional drinks were also available, of course. Adalgarius had set up bar stations throughout the house, for ladies who wanted a starfly or gentleman who preferred a simple glass of Gioran (cognac, naturally, being reserved for the smaller room, such as the cards room he’d had set up on the second floor, but whiskey available throughout) or Twemlaugh. Anything that either of the two galdori had thought of could be ordered - and plenty of it was on offer whether one would really want to order it or not.

It had been a rainy, miserable sort of morning, hot and thick and humid to start, with sheets of pouring rain that had swept through Vienda from the last morning through the mid-afternoon. Then, almost miraculously, the rains had slowed – stopped – the sky had cleared. By the time the sun had set, even the humidity had almost broken, and the night was cool and pleasant, the sky clear overhead. One could not have been said to be able to see stars, precisely, but there was a faint and distant shimmer in the sky, and one could certainly imagine that, if not in the thick of uptown Vienda, stars would be visible.

It had grown late, now, late enough that some of the partiers had started to leave – the older incumbents, the political invites, the important people, had found that their evening had stretched on long enough, and some were beginning to leave. Not all, of course; there were those, even those both Fenella and Adalgarius accounted among the elderly, who never left a party before it was at its absolute dregs. But as the night wore on, more and more of the respectable trickled away. This, now – this was where Adalgarius and Fenella both had promised their friends that they must, they absolutely must, stick around. This, Adalgarius had proclaimed, was not going to be one of those boring political season parties in which the dancing slowed around 27 o’clock and the party began to wind down. Yes, there were meetings the next day – but there was only one spring equinox a year! Fenella had phrased things a bit differently – just because we’re out of Brunnhold now, she had said, does that mean we’re old and stuffy and dried up and boring?


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Niccolette Ibutatu rested one gold-ringed hand against the edge of a large marble pot, grimacing slightly and shifting away to avoid the brush of a too-exuberant fern. “Darling,” she said, firmly, “he never deserved you.”

The noise of the party trickled through the cracked-open doors to the Leroux’s back garden, light and sound both spilling out onto the marble terrace. It was still quieter there than inside, other than the occasional faint rustle from the dark bushes beyond. But Niccolette, at least, was an old hand at thoroughly ignoring anyone stumbling back inside through the darkness, no matter how rumpled.

“I know,” Francoise Rochambeaux sat hunched over on a marble bench, crimped red hair frizzed from the night’s excesses, once flawless make-up smeared from too much crying. She clutched Niccolette’s handkerchief in her hand – having long since used up her own – and sobbed a little more. “I know!” She wailed, the words slurred between sobs. “But Aurelien has been bored of me for years. Oh, Nicco, you just don’t understand! Uzoji is – is – is perfect! You don’t know what it’s like! I am a woman – I need to be loved! I yearn for it! And my husband – he simply – he simply doesn’t –”

“I know, I know,” the Bastian shifted to the bench, and sat next to her friend. She curled one arm around the other woman’s shoulder, squeezing her gently into her embrace. “Shh, come now. You cannot mean to say you loved Clarence!”

“No! No, of course not,” Francoise snorted noisily into the delicate fabric. “But I thought he loved me!” She began to wail once more. “And now – now – to see him at this party, laughing with some – Hessean!” Francoise sobbed into the handkerchief, wobbling back and forth, until she had thorough soaked Niccolette’s handkerchief as well.

“Nicco, why is the terrace spinning?” Francoise groped for the delicate glass off to her side on the bench, and drained the last of it the violet a substantial gulp. She sniffled.

“I think you are drunk,” Niccolette said, soothingly. “Come, Franci! We will go inside – we will find you some other handsome man – you will forget all about this dreadful Anaxi.”

Francoise’s eyes were sliding shut.

“Ah,” Niccolette said, inelegantly struggling with her friend’s abruptly heavy weight. She grimaced, shifted – and managed to at least catch Francoise’s head before it hit the hard marble bench, taking the sopping wet handkerchief from her friend’s hand and tucked it beneath her head.

The Bastian sighed, patted her friend’s too-ridged hair, and rose from the bench. She glared around – the patio was empty, naturally, not even a convenient embarrassed silhouette in sight.

Niccolette stalked to the door, the narrow confines of her tight sapphire skirt swishing with her movements. The high-necked dress was set off by glittering gold jewelry, sapphires tucked into her ears; a glittering asymmetric display of sequined embroidery stretched from the neck down along the front of the dress, disappearing into a tight, corset-like waistband - fashionable, expensive, and, thus far, surprisingly untouched by the decadence of the party.

The Bastian opened the door, and looked into the hallway. She paused, gaze settling on a small, delicate looking Anaxi – more or less the only other soul in sight.

“Pardon me,” Niccolette said, in a tone that seemed to leave no room for disagreement, her Bastian accent thick in her voice. She raised an eyebrow at the galdor. “My friend has – swooned,” Niccolette made a little face. “Would you fetch a servant or two and bring them out to the terrace? Quickly,” she made a little expectant gesture with one hand.


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Sednai
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: "Cypress"
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Fri Aug 09, 2019 1:21 pm

17 LOSHIS 2718
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Off the main hall in a mostly deserted hallway, Palis was trapped by the cold wall, a large potted plant, and Fenella Br- no, Leroux. She had a hold of the collar of his emerald jacket like an over-excited and persnickety aunt or nan, wrestling away unseen wrinkles, dust, and imperfection with ringed fingers as she had for a much younger Palis with a far more myopic eye for fashion. Palis was, to put it lightly, rather annoyed by it. He had long since learned to dress himself, and it was long enough in his past now that few could remember the boy dressed in plain greys that didn't quite fit him and didn't quite fit in the era with a mop of unbrushed hair on his head by the hand of a suddenly single father trying his best to take on a mother's roles. Now, Palis was a man sometimes a step too far ahead of fashion, dressed in tastefully balanced peacock feather colors and bright patterns of flowers and birds, and he prided himself on his ability to care for himself.

"Ella," he protested, dodging her omnipresent hands. He had found the balance between too well-dressed and under-dressed, the balance between breaking your pocket and obviously not spending a dime, found the balance between having a slab of rock and a limp mess for hair, and his effort was constantly irked by the hands that needed to fix it. Finally, he grabbed her thin hands with his own before she could muddle his work, and she looked up at the sudden jingle of her halted bracelets with a confused look that asked What's wrong? You never minded before.

"Ella! Stop it! I'm not a doll," he hissed at her, pushing her hands gently to her sides. He glanced around, greeted by an empty hallway. She looked at him sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, I just worry about you, how you're getting along. I-I worry, Palis, rightfully so," she whined quietly. Palis crossed his arms.

"And there's no need, at least not to this extent, Ella. Look at me, alright? Do you see me?" he asked in a scolding tone, raising his brows at her. Fenella nodded her red head.

"Not a bruise, not a scratch, not a hair out of place. I'm eating, I've got a roof over my head, I'm working. You don't need to worry so much. Worry about you, and try not to greet people by grabbing them," he added, and, seeing her face drop like a scolded animal, he softened his voice and offered a small smile.

"Working, working, working, Palis. That's all you do anymore, all you've done for years! You're eating, you've got a roof, you're working, but you have no one to show all your hard work too," she complained. "The world is going to pass you by and all you will have done is worked," she complained, and Palis rolled his eyes again with an exasperated sigh. It was true that he had pushed away so many of his friends, including Fenella, to focus on work, leaving behind much of that party life he knew and now only going to parties to make connections for his political gain. In fact, Fenella had had to come to his flat to personal make sure he had received his invitation to her wedding as, with no response returned, Palis had not even opened the letter in a mess of papers. But he wouldn't admit that he really hadn't had his life figured out as a fresh twenty.

"You're married, Fenella, married to someone with a good job. You've got it figured out. You've got your life secured. I'm still just me, alone, and I'm chasing after kites and hoping I can catch just one string," Palis shook his head, resting his hand on the small woman's shoulder. Fenella furrowed her brows at him, a look that simply told Palis that they would not see eye to eye on this on her face. Palis looked away and, as he did, a figured cleared its throat down the hall.

"Miss Fenella? A guest is requesting you at the door," a thin human servant spoke quietly from the entrance to the ballroom. Palis patted Fenella lightly on the shoulder as he pushed gently past her.

"I can take care of myself, Ella. You have a party to host," he said quietly. And he moved back towards the party, leaving Fenella to recompose herself in the hallway.

Yet, Palis moved straight through the party. He floated through the ballroom, through the hallways, passed people who said his name (to which he nodded vaguely).

Because, though he wouldn't admit it to her, Palis had been thinking on his own accord in recent months, and had been thinking very similar thoughts to Fenella's truths. He really had forced himself to age 10 years in three. Parties were no longer for him, and he couldn't remember the last time he had gone to socialize, had invited his friends out for a meal, had gone out and done something fun without following Siordanti or some other grumbling Incumbent around. He sighed, the adult voice in him telling him that he would not have fun at parties any longer; his friends were all getting married, getting jobs, and settling down, and the conversations they once had- about love, about jobs, about where they'd end up one day- all the unknowns they had fantasized about were suddenly known, and they were much less tantalizing than before. Yet, Palis was still working to find his knowns, and he didn't have the relaxed ability like Fenella, secured in her marriage, to celebrate every day with a party and wine. No, Palis had work to do, the adult voice he had adopted told him. Still, he could hear Fenella's voice the day she came to fetch him for her wedding- "We used to have so much fun."

He sighed, finding himself having wandered into the part of the house where the voices and music finally began to fade into the dirt. The garden awaited, lit dimly by low phosphor lights on the path. Yet, Palis' steps stuttered as a woman approached from the garden, emerging from the blue darkness of night into the warm yellow of the interior lights. The tasteful sapphire dress and dark hair were unfamiliar to Palis, but despite a decent number of people mingling here, she came first to him.

"Pardon me," she began, and her tone forced Palis' full attention locked onto her as her tone suggested. "My friend has - swooned. Would you fetch a servant or two and bring them out to the terrace? Quickly."

"Oh," Palis said simply. then grimaced at how dull he said because of it as he processed what he had been asked. "Yes, I passed a couple just a moment ago. They should be near- I'll bring them to you, miss." And Palis turned away quickly, dodging in a social deftness between swaying partygoers. The palace was riddled with servants, and finding two humans standing head and shoulders over a room of Anaxi was never hard. The two chatted amongst themselves, and Palis butted in as politely as one could interrupt a conversation.

"Excuse me, but a woman has swooned in the garden," he said, choosing the woman's words as he realized he really did not know the context of her 'swooning.' "Could you bring her inside, please?" And, when the man and woman nodded, Palis nodded, too. "Come on, then" And Palis led his entourage to the garden.


BURNED, NOT BURIED.
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Niccolette Ibutatu
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Fri Aug 09, 2019 3:51 pm

Late Night, 17 Loshis 2718
The Leroux Townhouse, Uptown, Vienda
Niccolette waited as the young – very young, she thought, faintly amused – galdor stared at her, evidently needing a few moments. She arched a delicate eyebrow, hardly patient, lips pressing together ever so slightly, but didn’t speak again. Finally he grimaced and agreed, turning away and making his way through the slightly more distant party-goers. From here, Niccolette could see the rest of the swaying partygoers – but, she supposed, it was too late; she had sent the boy on his way, and he had gone willingly enough. She hoped he was competent enough to bring the servants back with him.

Niccolette sighed, pursing her lips. She opened a few of the doors in the narrow hallway, checking inside, then made her way back out onto the terrace. She sat down on the bench, looking at Francoise’s pinched, tear-stained face. Carefully, she lifted her friend’s head in her hands; she shifted a little closer on the marble bench, and eased Francoise’s head down in her lap. She stroked Francoise’s hair back off her forehead, then used the handkerchief to gently mop away some of the streaked make-up staining the other woman’s face, cleaning her up as best as she could.

Francoise’s problem, Niccolette thought, was not Clarence, or any of the other less-than-creative lovers that Francoise had taken in the last few years. Her problem was Aurelien Rochambeaux, incumbent and terrible husband – and, Niccolette added to herself, if she wanted to make her husband jealous, Francoise could at least do herself the favor of taking a lover who knew what they were doing. That said, Niccolette did not believe that any of them would suffice – not when, in truth, it was Aurelien that Francoise still wanted.

Niccolette took a deep breath in, closing her eyes for a moment. Through the faint haze of alcohol – her last violet airship felt like a distant dream, but in truth it hadn't been that long since she had swept Francoise out onto the terrace – she could sense the mona buzzing softly around her. She looked down at Francoise again, and began to cast, softly, her voice weaving a spell of monite through the dark garden air.

As the delicate Anaxi and the humans with him approached, they would come out of the heavy doors to the patio to see the Bastian sitting on the bench, facing the door, the Anaxi’s head cradled in her lap, the other woman’s crimped red hair spilling out over the lap of her blue dress. Her etheric ramscott was bright and lively in the air around her, powerful living magic energy spilling across the terrace.

Something hovered and shimmered in the air around her, and soaked slowly into the Anaxi on her lap. Palis, at least, would be able to understand the words she spoke: a well-structured prayer, asking the mona to take pity on the woman for her indulgence, and specifically proposing remedies to keep her from suffering for her drunkenness. Versions of the spell were popular enough at Brunnhold among drunk students who didn’t mind gambling with a cast or two under the influence and hated hangovers, but Niccolette spoke the spell with an ease and deftness rare among such young galdori.

Niccolette let the spell finish, still gently stroking Francoise’s head with her hand. For a moment, all was stillness, the mona humming in the air around her.

The Bastian looked up, and raised an eyebrow at the galdor and the two humans. “Good,” she said, firmly. “You may lift her,” she held still, chin raised, not flinching from the two humans as they approached or uncomfortable even as they lifted Francoise half from her lap. The two were more than strong enough to raise Francoise between them; the woman helped the man until Francoise was draped in his arms.

“Stop,” Niccolette said. She walked around them, careful, and twitched Francoise’s skirt into a better position, cautious of her friend’s modesty. She nodded, then, and gestured forward.

The strange little parade made their way back into the house. Niccolette took them – unerring, with her earlier scouting well paid-off – to a small room just off the hallway inside from the garden, out of sight of the main ballroom. It was a little women’s study, with a long chaise lounge where the human servant could lay the galdor down.

Niccolette nodded her approval. “Go to the front,” she told the woman, “and fetch the maid from the Rochambeaux carriage. It is - purple in color, I believe. They have two white horses, a matched pair.” She raised an eyebrow, expectant.

“The Rochambeaux carriage,” the woman repeated. “Purple, two white horses.”

Niccolette nodded, very slightly. “Bring the maid here,” she fished in her reticule, and pressed a few coins into the woman’s hand. “Discretely, if you will. Ask her to bring Ms. Rochambeaux’s cloak on her way.”

“Yes miss,” The woman bobbed a curtsy, polite and dignified, and made her way off.

“You,” Niccolette said, turning to the male servant, “stay here until the maid reaches. She will need you to carry Ms. Rochambeaux to the carriage, covered with the cloak. Yes?” He nodded, and Niccolette pressed a few coins into his hand as well. He accepted them with a bow.

Finally, Niccolette turned to the young Anaxi. “You,” she said, only – slightly politer than she had been to the servants, “I shall require your assistance to inform Mr. Rochambeaux.” The small Bastian paused, and shrugged, as if to acknowledge the strangeness of the situation. “I am Niccolette Ibutatu. And your name?”

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Palis Ainu
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Fri Oct 11, 2019 2:02 pm

17 LOSHIS 2718
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There was a simple relief like that of a smooth breeze wrapping cool silk around sun-blistered skin that occurred to Palis as he found himself at least somewhat useful. Politics had thus far trained Palis to feel anxious and impatient at simple social gatherings like this that provided him no motive to further his political standing. He felt parties like this to be bothersome when he could be doing something much more useful with his time like researching, writing, or speaking with possible constituents with his or his senior incumbent's cause. He had forgotten the art of simple conversation, of entertainment, of relaxation, and everything else he enjoyed before politics had whisked away so quickly into a world outside the walls of Brunnhold, protective of youth. This distraction (he thought as he realized he truly did not have a good qualifying term for it) would, he hoped, prove to at least pull his mind away from the itching unease he felt as he looked with shaking hands and broken vocal chords at the life he had forgotten how to live in the isolation of his office and work.

Palis longed for his desk, but for now he could survive leaning against the entryway to the garden, leaning between the tender freedom of moonlit isolation and the aching social puzzle of phosphor-lit tradition. He watched as the human servants stood in patient blankness and smiled ever so slightly as the one thing he could never forget- the haunting and laughable conversation used to ease the effects of alcohol- shimmered in the air of the garden and the canvas of his memory. The woman- the conscious one- acted with a graceful ease that intrigued Palis. She could easily be someone of political value, though, flipping through the mental trivia he kept of every politician he knew of, he was sure he didn’t recognize her. He’d have to ask. Maybe this night would prove beneficial to his career after all, and, the thought compelled him to follow as the caravan pushed with a gently but quick-stepped goal in the mind of the sapphire-dressed woman and the tap-tapping of rigid heels. They crossed swiftly into a small hallway hidden from the rest of the party, one that seemed well-mapped by everyone conscious in the party except for Palis. Luckily, he was quite comfortable in simply following a few steps behind and lingering in every doorway to bear witness until he was needed.

The female servant shuffled politely by him, the male took his station of simply waiting for his companion, and Palis was noticed again. As the galdor woman turned to him, he straightened himself off the doorway and raised an expectant brow to her, able to see her in both an unhurried and well-illuminated situation for the first time. She was slightly shorter and, by both carriage and appearance, a few years his senior. Easily, he knew her not to be Anaxi in blood, though Palis was not the type to give the difference in birthplace any judgemental heed. Simply, she was pretty, seemed to have herself together, and Palis could certainly respect that.

Her name was unfamiliar, and he imagined this would be mutual, the silent hope of not recognizing his last name of that of his batty father’s certainly alight in him as he introduced himself quickly, sensing a need for no nonsense in this woman.

Palis Ainu,” he responded.
This-” he paused, readying his pronunciation in his head so as not to butcher his words, “Mr. Rochambeaux- any idea where he may be or- perhaps better- who he may be surrounding himself with? The party is- for lack of a better term- spacious, especially at such a late hour.” He imagined the meandering drunks still stumbling and singing and dancing with no music as the musicians packed themselves up, took their money, and left.

I don’t know the house well, but, I do know a good portion of the guests and the hosts, and, if need be, we can follow a bread crumb trail of people and conversation to your Mr. Rochambeaux,” he suggested, hoping his socially tired mind was making any sense.
tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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Niccolette Ibutatu
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Fri Oct 11, 2019 3:33 pm

Late Night, 17 Loshis 2718
The Leroux Townhouse, Uptown, Vienda
Niccolette returned the younger galdor’s bow with one of her own. Her field caprised his as well, feeling the mix of hot static mona and slippery perceptive mona that trailed this Palis Ainu. Her own field was all living energy, bright and sharp, still charged from the spell she had cast outside, and she wielded it effortlessly, her caprising as neat and graceful as her bow had been.

“Yes,” Niccolette said, thoughtfully, nodding slightly with Palis’s logic. “He is an incumbent, of course. Aurelien Rochambeaux,” Niccolette grinned, suddenly, almost fierce. “I believe he is upstairs – he is not in the ballroom, that I know. So, we shall go there. Perhaps he is playing cards.”

Niccolette held for a moment, then turned back to the chaise lounge. She knelt next to it, careful in the tight sapphire skirt, one hand gripping the side of it delicately. She leaned forward, and brushed her lips over the Anaxi’s hair, murmuring a few quiet words to the sleeping woman too soft for Palis to hear – not monite, though, but the soft lilt of her accented Estuan. She held a moment longer, sighed, patting the unconscious woman’s hand with her own, then rose again, and turned back to Palis.

Niccolette went past him as if the interruption had never taken back; she did not apologize in the slightest, not with her word or manner, for making him wait. “You are a friend of Fenella?” She asked, curiously, her gaze sweeping briefly over the young Anaxi. She could not have quite been said to make small talk, but neither did she force him to walk in silence as they made their way down the halls, her heels clicking steadily against the floor, occasionally spearing some poor leaf or petal from one of the party’s many abused plants.

At the stairs, Niccolette paused at the first of the heavy potted ferns that sat in the middle of the steps. She examined it, swept her gaze to either side, then turned expectantly to Palis, and waited for him to move it out of her way, standing, almost-patient, until Palis sorted out for himself that she needed him to move the fern to the side. Once it was done, Niccolette made her way up the stairs, ducking beneath several heavy hanging plants, and waiting at the top for Palis to move another plant for her, holding the railing and surveying the crush below.

At the top of the stairs, Niccolette glanced around. The air on the second floor was thick with the scent of cigar smoke, rich and heavy, drifting lazily through the air, and a good deal of men’s cologne seemed to linger. There was an abundance of male voices; neither would hear many in the way of female ones, and it was easy to have the sense that the difficult-to-navigate stairs were at least semi-intentional.

A door swung open to the left, revealing a glimpse of exotic Muluku Island flowers just within, and two Mugrobi exited. Both were an inch or two taller than Niccolette, and they wore well-tailored Anaxi-style suits, suitably dark in color, both with a hint or two of color in the style favored by many Mugrobi who had occasion to spend time in Anaxas.

“Anoze does worry about you, Uzoji,” Enofe said, his head gleaming in the yellow phosphor light, turned towards his younger brother. “It’s been years – why not come and spend a little time in Thul Ka next year? You know mother would be – ”

“Niccolette!” Uzoji said, delighted. He turned to his brother and grinned. “I know, brother,” he clasped Enofe on the arm, and nodded. “We’ll make the time.”

Enofe grinned at him, then turned to Niccolette and bowed. “Niccolette,” he said, glancing around. “Is it – ” he glanced around again, as if intending to ask whether she really ought to be on the second floor.

“Enofe,” Niccolette bowed, smiling.

Uzoji was already drifting across the floor towards her, as if drawn by some sort of magnetic force. Niccolette turned to him, smiling. Her whole body seemed to soften, and she giggled when as the Mugrobi bowed over her hand and kissed it. “It has,” Uzoji said, plaintively, looking up at her, “been hours, my moon and stars.”

Niccolette was giggling now. “You have been drinking!” She said, accusingly, looking from her husband to his brother.

“Some,” Enofe grinned, leaning against the bannister of the staircase.

“They have proper Thul Ka arak!” Uzoji straightened up. His field tangled with Niccolette’s, goldshift already. “We couldn’t – ah,” He turned to Palis with a grin, as if just noticing he younger galdor, as if he had been hardly able to see anything but Niccolette. “Good evening,” he said, politely.

“Uzoji, this is Palis Ainu,” Niccolette grinned, her field softening back against her husband's; she had not, she thought, seen Uzoji quite so drunk in some time, and it never failed to amuse her. She yielded, goldshifting as well, aware of the loving warmth that echoed from him even as he turned his attention to the requirements of society. “I could not find you, so he kindly agreed to help me navigate these terrible stairs. It is as if they do not even wish to have women up here.”

Enofe coughed, loudly, then cleared his throat and held silent.

“Mr. Ainu,” Niccolette continued, as casually as if Enofe had made no interruption at all, “Please meet my husband, Uzoji Ibutatu, and his brother, Enofe pez Okorie.”

“Mr. Ainu,” Uzoji bowed deeply, and rose surprisingly gracefully.

“Mr. Ainu,” Enofe bowed as well, the diplomat with the Mugrobi delegation well-practiced in the Anaxi style. “I believe we have met before – I have seen you with Incumbent Siordanti, is it?”

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Palis Ainu
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Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
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Race: Galdor
Occupation: Young politician. Temporarily out of service.
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Sun Oct 13, 2019 4:01 pm

17 Loshis 2718
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Palis walked a respectful step behind Niccolette's right shoulder, allowing her to lead the way while remaining close enough to keep a bubble of possible conversation, which was minimally kept by Niccolette. He was, unfortunately, the type of person who itched to speak, itched to fill silence with words or have someone else do it for him, so he was relieved when Niccolette spoke first.

"Fenella and I- we were close friends in school," he mused shortly, following Niccolette up the stairs. He paused for a moment as she did and looked at her expectantly like a canine who recognized the word walk, and, sensing her nonverbal annoyance, he looked for a source. There, at the stairs, was a poorly placed plant.

"Oh, right," he whispered, and he passed her on the stairs to pull the plant towards the railing, grimacing at the face full of waxy leaves he was receiving. Without a mother or a female suitor to speak of, rarely was he in the soul company of a woman, and rarely did he have to fill the social queues of a polite man. He ascended the stairs awkwardly. He was, of course, not a strong man, but strong enough to smoothly move the pot without too much effort. Niccolette passed him with grace as he struggled to squeeze his way out from between the plant and the cold railing and hurrying after Niccolette up the stairs before passing her to move the second plant before she got to it. This time, to save himself from his own trap, he pushed it away from himself.

The walk up the stairs brought Palis smells and sounds familiar to childhood- the smell of his father's pipe mingling with the cigars of cheerful companions as the sound of laughter and conversation pushed through the smoke and danced among it, swirling it into the shapes of the night. Childhood was perhaps the only time in which Palis could feel comfortable in a social society of men. There, as a child, he was allowed to be foolish, allowed to not worry about the world, allowed to be lacking masculinity, and allowed to scamper about with his father’s human servant like he was a brother or best friend. Now, however, Palis was uncomfortable in such a setting, instead preferring the quiet gossip, the liberated intelligence, and the warm compassion of book clubs and tea parties and open houses.

He let Niccolette’s confidence lead him up the stairs. He watched her reaction as two men joined them in the hallway, watching her for an expectation of what he should do. Yet, her field only increased its warmth. She knew them, and, as Palis looked up to observe the two, he found he was also stuck in recognition, though, from where? The faces of campaigning still ran together in a muddled mess from time to time, especially as Siordanti introduced the poor man to everyone he knew in rapid succession. Palis was, however, well-practiced in the art of observation of character, now, well-practiced in the art of eavesdropping to find identity.

He listened and watched with his hands patiently clasped before him as Niccolette warmly greeted these two- Uzoji and Enofe, of course! Now he remembered, especially remembered this man’s tasteful clothing that stood out in a sea of the dull, dark colors of politics. He was a diplomat from Mugrobi, a quickly popular one recently especially active in Anaxas. The two had met just briefly weeks before.

Palis bowed to each of them in turn, first Uzoji, then Enofe. “Yes, sir. I am an intern to Incumbent Siordanti. It is good to see you again,” Palis smiled at him warmly, fighting the unprofessionalism of complimenting Enofe’s suit. Genuinely, Palis was relieved to see someone whom he at least recognized. With a thicker air of comfortability, he unclasped his hands and placed them on his hips.

Actually, have either of you seen Incumbent Rochambeaux recently?” he asked, trying to weave he and Niccolette’s concern into the conversation. He knew that the state of Niccolette’s unconscious companion may not be something to necessarily be shared with all. “I was hoping to speak with him before the end of the night.” He eyed Niccolette, waiting for her to take hold of the situation if she did not approve. It was her friend, her brother-in-law, and her husband, afterall, and he didn’t want to intrude on the situation.
tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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Niccolette Ibutatu
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Mon Oct 14, 2019 1:48 am

Late Night, 17 Loshis 2718
The Leroux Townhouse, Uptown, Vienda
Uzoji turned to Niccolette, reaching out to cup her cheek with his hand, gently. "You are having a good evening, beloved?” He asked, smiling.

“Of course,” Niccolette grinned at him. “Do I not always?”

Uzoji grinned wider, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

Niccolette giggled, her eyes widening. “Mr. Ibutatu!” She said, firmly.

“And you,” Enofe said to Palis, smiling pleasantly. “Incumbent Rochambeaux?” He blinked.

“Francoise’s husband?” Uzoji asked, looking up from Niccolette.

Niccolette shot Palis an amused glance, raised her eyebrows, then turned back to her husband and grinned, widely. “Is there another Rochambeaux, darling?”

“Well,” Uzoji said, lips parting softly. He grinned, sheepishly. “Ah - you remember, Enofe? Aurelien?”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Enofe nodded. “Incumbent Rochambeaux - he is rather concerned with - ah -“

“No work, brother,” Uzoji kissed Niccolette’s cheek and turned back to Enofe. “Hulali’s tits, relax for just one night!” He stepped forward and clasped Enofe’s hands in his. “A deal, then,” Uzoji grinned. “By His waves - not one more word of work tonight, and Niccolette and I shall come to Thul Ka next year.”

Niccolette smiled, watching her husband and his brother.

“By His waves,” Enofe agreed, gripping Uzoji’s hands with his.

Uzoji grinned. “We have not seen him,” he said, turning back to Niccolette, and then to Palis. “My apologies, Mr. Ainu. Ah, we can help you to -“

“No, darling,” Niccolette waved her hand. “Please, I shall go with Mr. Ainu, and so courtesy is satisfied. You shall enjoy yourselves, both of you.” She bowed, politely, more to Enofe than Uzoji.

It was not so often that she saw Enofe so relaxed either, Niccolette thought. Besides, she did not wish to involve the Mugrobi diplomat in Francoise’s affairs - no matter that he was Niccolette’s brother-in-law. Better to let him and Uzoji go; Niccolette knew she would see her husband later.

Enofe bowed back, and Uzoji bowed too. “As you command, my river and tides,” he said, smiling. “But do not think you can escape me for long. I shall -“ he paused, glancing at the company, and grinned, “see you later.”

Enofe laughed, and clasped Uzoji’s shoulder. “Do you remember,” he said, grinning, “the song of Old Thul Ka?”

Uzoji burst out in a surprisingly credible baritone, Enofe’s voice twining with his. “And he walked the streets of Oooooooold Thuuuuuuuul Kaaaaa!”

“Come in,” Niccolette said to Palis, low-voiced. “We should go quickly. He knows all six verses!” She did not touch the younger galdor, but - with a last, brief, smiling glance back at her husband, gestured close to him and eased away down the hall.

The two Mugrobi had their arms over each other’s shoulders, and were wandering down the halls towards a distant balcony, starting into the verse about the fisherman, his wife, and a rather versatile basket.

Niccolette was giggling, and she took the first left, entering a small hallway off of the stairs. “We shall try here, perhaps,” the Bastian glanced around, and then grinned back at Palis. “You may do the honors,” Niccolette said, grandly, and gestured to the closed doors before them.

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Last edited by Niccolette Ibutatu on Wed Oct 30, 2019 5:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Palis Ainu
Posts: 71
Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
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Race: Galdor
Occupation: Young politician. Temporarily out of service.
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Mon Oct 28, 2019 11:55 pm

17 Loshis 2718
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Palis grinned as Enofe and Uzoji waltzed away from he and Niccolette pulled themselves back into their mission, and his eyes lingered momentarily on the joy of the night until Niccolette spoke to him in a low but amused voice, her comfortability brought by the sight of her husband and brother-in-law allowing him to relax slightly, too. His field swelled slightly, still careful to dance around the edge of hers.

Niccolette took the lead again, taking the first left they came upon to duck down a hallway. Palis felt like he was nearly swimming in the thickness of the air that mingled from the three doors tucked into the walls of the hallway, smells of tobacco and alcohol and a few other products Palis knew only from a few brave experiments. With the logic of process in his head, Palis opened the first door on his left, pushing the door open, stepping inside, and holding the door for Niccolette to follow. Once in, the door swung back into place, closing the pair in a room so dimly lit that Palis had to blink his eyes in a daze to make out anything in the darkness. The room, what seemed to by day be a small study, was bathed in a soft blue light from royal blue phosphor lamps both on the walls and on the tables. Low rectangular tanks full of fish and water lilies silhouetted by blue phosphor lamps that illuminated them from the bottom were on either side of the doorway, greeting the pair with a soft bubbling of salty water. The sounds of the room- laughter, voices in drunken volume, clinking glassware- were outlined by the sweet sound of a lyre, it's metallic strings plucked by a young man in the corner of the room. Only about six men sat and relaxed in this room of slow conversation and tired laughter, but the smallness of the study already crowded by the plants and fish tanks Fenella had added made it claustrophobic and hard to move. From the doorway, however, Palis could see that the men here were exceedingly young, gangly men he was sure he had probably gone to school with. Hookah clouds rolled through the air.

"Can I assume your Incumbent is not a boy barely out of Brunnhold puffing hookah or-?" Palis asked with a bouncing, joking tone, leaning towards Niccolette to ensure she heard without their new companions hearing- though, by the dazed state they sat in, he wasn't quite sure anything he said would register. He squinted through the darkness again to survey the faces there, thankful to only recognize them as galdori he had seen around. He shuffled back to the door, opening it for Niccolette to slip through first and then following and allowing the door to again close on its own.

"I suppose we could try across the hall naturally," he suggested, nodding to the two other doors in the hallway. Rather than await Niccolette's lead, this time Palis crossed the hall to a door that already presented a room much different than the last as laughter and a loudly told but deeply slurred story slipped under the door uproariously. Palis knew drunk incumbents well. This could be it. He pushed the door open gently, careful not to hit anyone on the other side. The room was bathed in gold, both in light and yellow leaves that nearly shimmered as they moved on the branches that reached the ceiling and arched over the room. Palis imagined it was hellish trying to fit the trees that were nearly twice the height of the door into the room, but some rustic fantasy filled the room.

In the center of the room, a younger man with dark auburn curls, a man Palis didn't recognize, stood on a round wooden table, his boots extraordinarily mismatched in height, color, and style as he turned with a drunken clumsiness to address the room. He was acting out a story, but Palis was almost certain that it was his making a fool of himself and not his story that had the gathered crowd, at least fifteen galdor men of varying age and couple of tired wives wanting to gather their husbands and go home, entertained. At the edges of the room, quieter conversations ignorant of the center of the room were held, and Palis edged away from the doorway in case of another entrance. He turned to Niccolette, this time having to speak up a little for her to hear him.

"I recognize a few Incumbents here. Is yours among them?" he asked, hoping that Mr. Rochambeaux was there for Niccolette's friends' sake.

tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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Niccolette Ibutatu
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Wed Oct 30, 2019 5:25 pm

Late Night, 17 Loshis 2718
The Leroux Townhouse, Uptown, Vienda
Palis pushed open the first door on the left, and Niccolette followed him into the room, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to the dim. She knew the smell even before she could see, heavy clouds of hookah smoke swirling in the air, pale gray cast blue by the phosphor lights that echoed through the fish tanks. Niccolette glanced around, gaze lingering curiously on the lyre player, then skipping over the handful of young-looking men.

She thought, suddenly, of sitting on a low roof in Cinnamon Hill, watching the sun set over the edges of the Turga. She remembered curling against Uzoji’s side, sulking playfully as he leaned forward to relight the hookah, listening to the low murmur of conversation in Estuan and Mugrobi alike as the day gave way to night – she remembered seeing the glow of sunset darkening from pink to purple to deep blue skies overhead, although stars were hard to come by over Thul Ka. Niccolette thought of that as she breathed in deep the smell of smoke, and felt a distaste that wrinkled her nose. She shook her head in response to Palis’s question, grinned despite it all, and followed him back outside.

Niccolette took a deep breath in the hallway, and pushed her hair back up off her face. She glanced back down the hallway, wishing for a moment that she had asked Uzoji to come along after all, suddenly conscious of missing him. She could not even hear the echoes of his singing, not anymore. Then she shook her head, shook away the faint feeling of unease that had crept over her, and squared herself to the next door. She nodded crisply in response to Palis’s suggestion, and followed him into the next door.

Niccolette edged into the room, and glanced around at the trees – trees! – which filled it; more than filled it, in truth. It might have had a pleasant sort of whimsical quality if it had not been quite so crowded. The Bastian glanced over all of it, and could not quite help a soft amused noise, covering her mouth with her hand. Her gaze lingering curiously on the man with the mismatched boots, and swept over the crowd around him. One – two women, she thought, wives, huddled close to their husbands. Again, she was conscious of a faint prickle of unease; again, determinedly, she shoved it away.

“Yes,” Niccolette said, gesturing lightly with one hand to the other corner of the room. “I see him now.” Aurelien, his light blond curls glinting in the golden light – thinning slightly at the temple, Niccolette noticed – was talking intently with another galdor of similar age, the two of them smirking over the tinkle of ice cubs in cut-glass tumblers.

“Play along, would you?” Niccolette grinned at Palis, and didn’t wait for him to answer. She swept up her full skirts, and made her way through the tree trunks, ducking beneath a branch to keep her hair from catching on it.

“Incumbent Rochambeaux,” Niccolette said, smiling politely. Her field caprised his, first, and then the other galdor’s, and she bowed politely as they turned to her.

“Mrs. Ibutatu,” Aurelien said, visibly surprised. He raised his eyebrows, glancing around, then back at her. “This is Reginald Donaldson,” he gestured at the other man, and they both bowed. “Donny, this is Niccolette Ibutatu, an – ah – friend of Francoise’s.”

Niccolette inclined her chin, gently. “A pleasure, I am sure,” she said. Her gaze flickered over Reginald, then returned to Aurelien.

“You’re with Uzoji?” Aurelien asked, glancing around, and then back to Niccolette. “Her husband,” he said, casually, to Reginald. “I don’t believe you’ve met.”

“He is busy with his own diversions,” Niccolette said in a faintly cool tone. She smiled, and thought better of asking for a moment of privacy.

“Quite,” Aurelien said, his tone more than a little cool as well.

“This is Palis Ainu,” Niccolette said, casually. She did not hesitate; she rarely hesitated. She had set her course some time ago; she would not deviate. “He and I have been looking for you,” her gaze flicked over him, up and down, “on Francoise’s behalf,” she glanced at Palis out of the corner of her eye, then turned back to Aurelien, and smirked, faintly, putting some color to the faint-but-meaningful implications that had curled beneath her words.

Aurelien’s gaze fixed on her face for a moment. He hesitated, a faint flicker of unease crossing his face. “Oh?” He glanced back at Palis, then at Niccolette once more.

“Quite,” Niccolette said, and smiled a little wider. “There are things you should be told, I suppose,” she shrugged, casually, and glanced meaningfully at Donaldson.

“Ah – Donny, just give us a moment,” Aurelien said, slowly. He was looking at Palis now, frowning heavily, and he glanced from him to Niccolette. “Really, Niccolette, this is – quite – ”

“Is it?” Niccolette asked, smiling. “I had not thought you minded.”

Donaldson, who had not left, was raising his eyebrows, slowly, glancing from Palis back to Aurelien.

“I – ” Aurelien busied himself with a sip of whiskey, clearing his throat. “I am sure,” he said, slowly, “that I do not know what you mean,” he shot Palis another glance, and stiffened a little more, drawing himself up.

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Palis Ainu
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Joined: Mon Jun 18, 2018 11:48 am
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Mon Dec 23, 2019 12:34 am

17 Loshis 2718
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Play along was not an especially reassuring statement to Palis' ears. It always had meant trouble in childhood, and, well, by Niccolette’s tone and how little he knew her, he could not be sure this wasn’t trouble as well. He turned away from the man on the table who had captured his amusement momentarily as he launched into a quoted lyric of song, the smile fading away from the blonde’s face as he did.

What?” he croaked after his companion in off-guard confusion but, at that moment, an especially loud clap of laughter lit the air into good-hearted static. Niccolette had already turned away from him, already parted the crowd and already set her sights on Aurelien. Palis sighed, his eyes darting around the room. He recognized many of the men in this room, but, luckily for him and his lowly status as a new intern, the recognition probably was not mutual, especially given the drunken state of many of these men. Quickly, he stopped his handwringing and he sought out Niccolette again, clutching to the protection her confidence enveloped him in. He shimmied through the crowd, excuse me, sorry, and oh, it’s good to see you, Incumbent all bubbling out of his mouth as he tried to squeeze past bellies expanded by years of alcoholism and pastries and fatty meat pies.

Palis' hair caught on the claw of a low golden branch that had been broken to swing idly right at galdor head-level, and he stumbled to quickly remove it, his once perfected hair now angled and erect beyond his current power to repair. He had no time to fix his hair, instead joining Niccolette and two gentlemen he didn't recognize. Palis was sure he looked as if he was a housecat who had just been pet the wrong way by a sticky child, but, pretending not to notice the state of himself, he smiled sheepishly as he was introduced by Niccolette. The smile quickly dissipated as he heard the taint in her voice that prickled on the back of his neck in the form of a vivid blush plaguing his face, ears, and neck. He did not dare look at her in questioning, no- he didn't want to ruin whatever plan she had, though he was dreading what it made of him. And he was sure the disheveled state of messy hair and reddened face and pure youthful misbehavior did not help him at all.

She's absolutely a devil, isn't she? he thought to himself, but, hells, she was an intelligent leader and, by following her this far, he had agreed to play along as she asked. He straightened up in as proud of subtly defiance he could muster under Aurelien's gaze, scanning Aurelien up and down in mirror of the other man. He crossed his arms and looked the man in the eye as disapproval rained back at him. He did not trust his voice or his mind to say anything here, but he held his field still against Niccolette's. This had not been at all how he wanted the night to go, but, at the very least, he would have a story for his own Aurelien to enjoy.

The incumbent was hooked, Palis could tell. He exhaled lightly, soothingly, through his mouth to ease himself. He didn't break his gaze with the incumbent, completely ignoring his friend. He leaned towards Niccolette to address her, but his gaze included Aurelien as well.

"Perhaps we should go," he announced flatly. glancing for just a second at Donaldson before returning his gaze to Aurelien, then turning, finally, to Niccolette for any line. And, gods, he hoped these two men weren't important to any of his future political dealings. He stepped back, hands in pocket, and readied himself to follow the conversation out of the room if it would so move.
tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2699
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