Everyone Loves Awkward Dinners, Right?

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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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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Sun Jul 29, 2018 3:54 am

25th Roalis, 2718
UPTOWN | DUSK
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”So let me get this straight. Vienda has a theatre, in which the actors are serviced by humans? They let them actually touch them? Humans? Really? That is clocking weird.” Athrym shook her head, looking at Nauleth with a raised eyebrow and a scoff, the foreigner absolutely unable to comprehend humans being intelligent enough to understand the intricacies of performance and stage makeup. They walked through Vienda, her arm linked gently in his, summer green gaze taking in the pretty phosphorus lanterns that merrily lit up Kingsway Market in the dusky afternoon sun. The junior professor had invited her to attend a dinner with his parents in the city, under the half-guise of showing the Gioran Ambassador the capital of Anaxas.

It didn’t stop Athrym from spending days and days agonising over what to pack and what to wear, painfully aware that the taller Anaxi had mentioned his father’s refusal to speak to him since his brailing as a fifth form.

Settling on the traditional formal dress of her people, the pale mixed blood ran a hand through her straight platinum locks and took a breath to settle the bizarre nerves that buzzed plainly in her field. It wasn’t that she was nervous to meet the red heads parents, Imaan knew her Gioran heritage was bold enough to overshadow any self-consciousness that may have appeared there. No, Athrym was nervous about just how easily she tended to speak her mind, and how very easily she managed to piss people off. Already, since being in Brunnhold, she’d insulted multiple professors by calling their bluff or dismissing their ideals with her own matter-of-fact statements. It didn’t actually bother the woman, if people were stupid enough to exaggerate their skills then they deserved to be called out.

Note to self, do not challenge either Siordanti to a duel.

Glancing over at Naul, the blonde smiled and squeezed his arm gently.

“Are you alright, Professor? We don’t have to visit you know? We could just go explore the rest of the city and find a room somewhere to...pass the time before we have to catch the boat back? I saw a poster back there before for a circus, maybe we could go see what the fuss is about?” Her words were light hearted, but the meaning behind them was genuine. Athrym knew what it was like to be dragged into unwelcome family matters, her parents arranged marriage a less than welcome environment to be in. If Naul didn’t want to introduce the Gioran Ambassador to his parents, then that was fine by her.

“You could blame it on me? The foreign dignitary required an escort through Vienda or something like that. I don’t mind another Anaxi disliking me.” She chuckled, smiling up at the man whilst they walked, before looking ahead to watch a group of wicks pass by with brightly coloured hair and clothing. Her nose wrinkled with repulsion.

“Disgusting abominations. Seriously, how in Imaan’s name can they be allowed in the city? Should all be exiled into the Northern Tors with the other beasts.” The idea of humans being members of society may have confused and confronted the young woman, but the concept of wicks out and out revolted her. A mix of galdor and human blood, Gods the thought made her want to hurl. May as well go sleep with a kenser or a chrove, that’s how unnatural it was. And the fact that their genes blended to actually breed the half-bloods was almost laughable. Did the mona truly accept these abominations, or did it get confused by their galdori biology? According to what she’d read, the wicks could cast, but it was pathetic. Beginner pathetic.

Cull the lot of them.

“Is there anything special I should be aware of? Any topics I should avoid or customs I need to complete? Does your father drink cognac? I could give him a personal invitation to our distillery?” The Ambassador watched a Seventen pass by on his chrove, field reaching out as though keen to test the mettle of the man in the green suit. Elite police force of Anaxas, Athrym almost found it a personal challenge to see exactly what elite entailed.

Perhaps another time.


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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 189
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 22
Race: Galdor
Location: Brunnhold, Anaxas
: Magus in the Making
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Mon Aug 06, 2018 4:36 pm

25th Roalis, 2718
UPTOWN | EARLY EVENING
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"I didn't make the laws, Athrym, but my father Hadrian enjoys lobbying to keep them in place." Nauleth smirked, offering his lame, helpless defense. Why the theatre wasn't full of galdori expressing themselves magically for the glory of the Circle gods was beyond him. He figured that's what the Everine were for, anyway, "Would you rather a bunch of passives be in Vienda helping in the theatre instead of safely contained as they are in Brunnhold? I mean, really. No one wants an explosion in the theatre!"

The tall Anaxi enjoyed her arm in his, and he couldn't help but chuckle at her questions. He'd never thought so hard about the way things were, socially speaking, if only because he'd never been able to understand some of the way things were, either. The Gioran Ambassador's concerns came from her unfamiliarity with the laws and culture of his Kingdom, her own markedly different. Did they make any more sense to the freckled ginger as his did to her? Not always, but he had to admit some of her customs were appealing and he found himself growing more and more interested in experiencing them in person, especially when Athrym was so clocking prone to pointing out the hypocrisy of his homeland.

He swallowed what other comments he had on the subject after mentioning his father, a wave of nervousness setting his carefully preened field jittering again and reviving the butterflies that had just settled in his empty stomach. His free hand strayed to his dusky rose-colored vest to fish out his pocket watch, the back of which was carefully engraved with the deer-shaped constellation for which he was named. Checking the time for the millionth time that early evening, he couldn't help but fidget with the watch, turning it over restlessly in his fingers and unwilling to put it away,

"Am I? No. Not really." Naul admitted quietly, tilting his head back in Athrym's direction, his gold-rimmed gaze wandering over her lovely dress and forgetting himself for a heartbeat or two in just how clocking amazing the young woman next to him looked, "Yes, I should go. I should have done this years ago. But, gods, you present a tempting case, Athrym." He laughed, tucking his watch away to place his other hand on hers, slowly bringing his field back into focus by mingling it pleasingly with the petite blonde's Living mona-laden aura,

"I've seen those Circus posters. Here you are confused about humans in the theatre, but you want to go watch a bunch of lower races make a show of themselves outside of the protective walls of the city? Well. I'll take you to both and we can decide which is a more disgusting display, alright?"

The young Siordanti was teasing her now, tongue between his teeth for a moment before he began to recognize the landscape and knew they were nearing the restaurant his parents had agreed to meet them. Nausea gripped his insides and he blinked, eyes fluttering heavily and finding himself without an answer for her disgusted comments on the allowance of humans and wicks inside the city. He could only shrug,

"Special? Uh, no. Please be yourself. I don't plan on being anyone else. My father drinks, yes. He's a clocking politician. He probably has to lubricate his entire existence with alcohol to stay sane—or, that is to say, I know I would. I'm sure he'd be honored to accept such an international invitation. We won't even have to bring up my backlash. Either Hadrian will do that for me or my mother, Iralia, will do so instead. Good Lady help us both if my siblings are attending this dinner, too." He exhaled, his own gaze following the patrol as they passed as if he needed the distraction. The turn of the next street opened to a square of sorts, full of small shops and cafes and some restaurants open for the summer evening. Lanterns on strings sparkled and patio seating under umbrellas and tents had been opened for open air dining, complete with a little four-piece band of string instruments in the small, cozy, fountained park at the center of the whole thing.

Naul couldn't help but smile, somewhat caught off-guard with the memory—had his mother chosen the restaurant or his father? This was his last memory of his final summer visiting home before his backlash.

Were they setting him up for something? Alioe save him now.

Shaking his head with a sigh, the tall redhead peered through the crowd of pedestrians, everyone dining and visiting galdori except the staff. He had the luck of meeting his father's gaze without even trying, the older man with faded once-red hair and striking amber eyes that Nauleth didn't himself entirely inherit obviously picking his son out as he and the Gioran Ambassador approached. He tensed, having not been under the man's direct gaze in years, but then the man actually waved at the pair.

"If I make a clocking idiot out of myself, Athrym, you're welcome to walk away at any time." He leaned to whisper, lips brushing her ear and breath catching in his chest with obvious nervousness, "I'm terrified now."

Still, with a kiss planted firmly on her cheek in as chaste a form as possible, he slipped his arm from hers to entwine their fingers instead, making the choice to wave in return and then lead them both toward the outdoor table. At their approach, his mother turned to watch them, her formal up-do of strawberry blonde hair adorned with beautiful green gemstones to compliment the jewel tone of her dress. Both the elder Siordanti stood once the pair was close enough, and while Hadrian's expression warmed, he didn't smile. Iralia did, however, and she was the first to move to greet them,

"Nauleth!" Her expression was so genuine, the tall ginger's knees felt weak as if he worried he'd wasted eight years in ignorance. The woman reached for his shoulders and held him, hesitant as if she could have kissed his cheek but didn't, their fields mingling instead in her completely unhindered affection, "How unexpected of you to visit. Please, who have you brought with you tonight?"

As if she didn't know already.

The older woman glanced to Athrym with the most curious of smiles, reaching to insist Hadrian join them.

"It's good to see you, son." The Incumbent finally spoke, and he held Naul's gaze for an awkward moment, the young professor perhaps lingering to search his face for sincerity, for apology, for answers, only to find nothing but the mask the older man was so clocking good at wearing.

"I never would have—yes. Well. I'm glad to see you both." He caught himself carefully, biting his lip for a moment before he nervously fumbled to free himself from the petite blonde's hand and present her with some semblance of formality, "I'm pleased to introduce you both to the Gioran Ambassador, Athrym Bruthgrave. Athrym, this is my father, Incumbent Hadrian Siordanti, and my mother, Iralia Siordanti."
Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.
Last edited by Nauleth Siordanti on Fri Sep 21, 2018 3:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Writer: Raksha
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Wed Aug 15, 2018 5:59 pm

25th Roalis, 2718
UPTOWN | DUSK
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”Gladiatorial combat? Can you do that here? I thought they only did that in Hesse? Or Hox. Somewhere I am sure I have heard of it. It’s not a terrible idea, I’ve seen kyurex fighting once and that was pretty exciting though truth be told also quite cruel.” The Ambassador rambled, imagining how popular a human combat to the death could be in the right circles. Her eyes strayed to the pocket watch he toyed with, familiar with the constellation on the back, his own namesake.

“Well, if at anytime you wish to leave this gathering, I am exceptionally good at getting migraines at the most opportune times.” The galdor said with an overly sweet tone ready to play the poor hapless damsel if so required.

Her verdant gaze narrowed at his teasing about humans, smile turning into a scowl.

“The circus has humans too?! Is nothing sacred in this Imaan be damned country?” Athrym grumbled, picking up the shift in Nauleth’s field as they began to approach surroundings that seemed familiar to the man. She listened to him speak about Hadrian and Iralia, nodding slowly as she cataloged the information he shared in his nervousness. Her eyes drifted towards the quaint collection of outdoor restaurants in the street as they turned into it, catching an older gentleman waving at them both. Could that be....?

The kiss on her cheek drew an almost giddy smile from the Gioran, and she giggled, blushing demurely and looking at her feet as the taller professor waved back.

“I wouldn’t dare leave you alone my good Professor. Courage Naul, in Gior we say fear is merely the catalyst for bravery. You cannot challenge what you do not fear, for it presents no threat.” Smoothing the lines of her sapphire blue silk dress, Athrym lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, her face becoming a mask of well practiced formality. As they approached the table, both of the older galdori stood, and the Ambassador watched subtle shifts in body language. His mother didn’t hold back her genuine happiness at seeing her son again, hugging the tall Anaxi before drawing back to glance at the pale foreigner with a strange smile.

As Nauleth stumbled through greeting his father, the Gioran released the red heads hand willingly to scoop the free flowing fabric of her formal wrap into the crook of her arm, as was the custom of her people when preparing to sit as not to sit on the end. She bowed deeply with respect, before straightening slowly.

“Incumbent Siordanti. My father has spoken of you with great favour when he regales us with stories of Anaxas. It is an honour to meet the man behind the name.” Turning her summer gaze on Naul’s mother, the blonde offered her most perfectly practiced dimpled smile.

“And the beautiful Lady Siordanti. I am humbled by your grace good woman, may the Gods ever preserve your beauty in this life and the next. I absolutely love your hair. We have gems mined beneath Gior called opals that capture the colours of the most magnificent Yaris sunsets. I would love to wear them as you are now.” She bowed again, less deeply but still with respect, before looking at Nauleth with the same sweet smile. She would be guided by him, lest she break any cultural etiquette in this situation.

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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 189
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 22
Race: Galdor
Location: Brunnhold, Anaxas
: Magus in the Making
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Fri Sep 21, 2018 4:13 pm

Courage was best bolstered by intellectual surety that an obstacle in one's path was conquerable, and as Nauleth caprised the fields of his parents, he realized he had no idea what to expect, his own aura firm and bold in his bravado under the green-eyed gaze of his father. The Incumbent and his wife returned the bows and greetings that were so formally exchanged, but their tall son realized quickly that he could neither read the situation nor be sure of what was coming because it'd been almost a decade since he'd spent any time around these two people who had at least in name continued to call him their son.

Hadrian gestured to their table and the younger Siordanti distracted himself with formally seating the lovely Gioran, pulling out her chair for her and then tucking her into the table before seating himself. Once everyone was seated again, an awkward silence buzzed between them for a few very tangible moments before a young server approached, the human girl smiling gently and glancing over the new arrivals before looking back to the eldest Siordanti as if she was already very aware of who was in charge,

"Would you like that bottle of wine now, Incumbent Siordanti, sir?"

"Yes. Four glasses and some small plate starters for us all to share." Hadrian gruffly affirmed while Iralia straightened her dress and set her hands in her lap, eagerly looking at the tall red head as if she hadn't expected him to be so grown up, a hint of what could only be called regret unable to be hidden from the weight of her field,

"Naul, please tell us how you met Athrym. And how your teaching is going while we wait."

"I told you, it was at the—" The Incumbent began to quip, much to the younger Siordanti's surprise. Nauleth's hand found the pale Gioran's thigh under the table and he curled his fingers into the lovely fabric of her dress as if to keep his field from belying his sudden discomfort.

"Darling, this is his to tell." His mother chuckled, her amber eyes warmly glancing to Athrym before they settled on her son again,

"Oh, well, Ambassador Bruthgrave and I met at the Politician's Ball in Bethas on campus, of course." The junior professor's sea-glass gaze shifted to his father and his jaw set for a moment, a defiance in his tone that couldn't at all be hidden. He inhaled and straightened in his seat, making sure the other man knew he knew the Incumbent had been there, making sure the other man knew he knew he'd been purposefully ignored, "I challenged her to a duel."

"You what?" Iralia quipped, arching a well-manicured eyebrow, incredulous.

"I did. Someone needed to properly welcome the Gioran dignitary to Brunnhold culture before she settled into her research, didn't they? I was, naturally, the best choice for such a traditional activity at our prestigious school, considering my historical dominance on the Field of Practical Application and the experimental nature of my current post-graduate areas of study." Nauleth's face became a wicked grin, one side before the other, and it was clear that he wasn't going to make this dinner easy for his family, "I would say that it was a draw. And she has proven herself a very capable research partner since then—but she can speak for herself on that."

He smiled at Athrym, grin softening into something a little less ruthless before he shrugged his narrow shoulders, unsure of how to answer his mother's other curiosities and allowing the pale blonde next to him her own opportunity to speak about their introduction and relationship should she choose to do so while Hadrian sat in clear, uncomfortable silence.
Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.
Last edited by Nauleth Siordanti on Fri Sep 28, 2018 10:19 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Thu Sep 27, 2018 8:06 am

25th Roalis, 2718
UPTOWN | DUSK
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As Nauleth drew the seat for her, Athrym shot him a brief thankful smile, before clasping her fingers together and resting her hands on the table, one toe tapping slightly as they all sat together in a suddenly thick and uncomfortable silence. The blonde blinked, fixing her lipstick and clearing her throat softly, green eyes darting up as the human approached. Breathing deeply through her nose, the Ambassador did her very best not to lean away from the girl, shifting to cross her legs and smoothing her hands over the tablecloth gently.

Animal.

Incumbent Siordanti ordered for them all, and Athrym kept her diligent polite smile, glancing at Naul’s mother as the older woman clearly waited for her son to speak, her field heft with regret. Chuckling softly to herself at the question, the Gioran looked at her hands before her gaze flashed from Hadrian to Iralia. Clocks, this really was awkward. Suppressing a jump of surprise as a warm hand alighted on her thigh, the pale woman turned casually to look at the Professor, unable to stop the small dimples appearing in her cheeks as her smile grew warmly. As the taller Anaxi found his voice in front of his overbearing father, Athrym allowed her hands to shift from the table into her lap, squeezing his hand with encouragement, delighted to watch him boldly explain everything about the evening they’d met.

Well, not everything. Just enough.

“It’s true, Professor Siordanti here was the only delegate from the University that took the time or the effort to welcome me in the correct Gioran fashion. Quite the Physical mage, your son. I have to admit, though it’s the specialty of my people, I’ve much more interest in Living conversation. Though a draw...” The Gioran Ambassador pursed her lips and arched a brow as though contemplating the comment, searching his face with a bemused look.

“...I suppose we can call it that.” She said with another smile, before turning back to The Siordanti’s.

“Yes, well, as it stands research was the reason behind my appointment. My studies have been exhausted in The Archives, and no one can retrieve the texts within The Deep, so it was Brunnhold that I was advised to pursue. Of course, given my outstanding academic results and my unique specialisation in Living conversation, I was given the chance to come to Anaxas in exchange for acting as Ambassador for our Kingdom. The youngest I am aware of, at least in the civilised kingdoms.” The foreigner said without a hint of modesty or shame, bold and proud of her heritage. The young human girl had returned with the wine, removing the cork at the table and carefully filling their glasses, The Incumbent and his wife first, with Naul and Athrym afterwards. Taking up the crystal goblet with a well manicured hand, the delegate lifted it to the light and turned it slowly, before bringing it close to her nose and breathing softly through her nose and mouth to smell the depth of the deep richly colored liquid.

“Is this an Anaxi wine? It has a vibrantly matured berry tone, winter harvest I think. Older too, a vintage winter pumble blend, aged in oh...something exotic. Not oak or mahogany. Something strong.” Tiliting her head, the Cognac heiress narrowed her eyes at Hadrian.

“Mugrobi dinzith maybe?” Smiling slowly again, the blonde waited for the older man to drink first before sipping her own lightly and placing it carefully back on the table. She turned her eyes to Nauleth’s mother and chuckled.

“Your son has actually offered to tutor me in Physical conversation. Since we ran into each other at the ball, the Professor has shown me a side of my people’s magic I didn’t know could be done. It’s really quite fascinating. Unavoidably, the more time we spend together, the more interested I become.” Without thinking, she lifted her free hand to his face and stroked a thumb across his jawline fondly.

“Of course, that may have something to do with the company.” Athrym said with another dimpled smile, before taking up her wine again and sipping it smoothly.

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Nauleth Siordanti
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Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 22
Race: Galdor
Location: Brunnhold, Anaxas
: Magus in the Making
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Wed Nov 07, 2018 2:44 pm

Athrym wrapped her hand around his and his serious expression in front of his parents faltered, not entirely expecting the physical response of support to his somewhat improperly needful motion. It was nice. She spoke up to compliment him and his gold-rimmed gaze immediately fell to the table, color rising to his cheeks while he cleared his throat as if he wanted to tell her that was more than enough, as if he wanted to argue the situation. Slowly, awkwardly, Nauleth smiled in his lopsided way and looked back up toward his father instead of the lovely Ambassador after her generous words.

She spoke about her reasons for coming to Brunnhold, and again he heard her speak of the Archives of Gior, the deep places that even her people hadn't been able to reach. They'd spoken of the current limitations, of things lost to time, and how perhaps Naul's rather unorthodox experiments could come to be of use if pursued to perfection. He was admittedly curious, insatiable thirst for touching the boundaries of magic and pushing past them piqued by the promise of being surrounded by galdori even more well-studied in Physical conversation than himself.

Ignorant about wine and aware of Athrym's alcohol baron of a father, the tall red head simply let the conversation unfold around him, watching the faces of his parents while he let the pale Ambassador speak.

"It is indeed Anaxi." Hadrian nodded as if she hadn't said anything else, his expression having remained almost entirely neutral during both his son's introduction and the Gioran's detailed accompaniment. He seemed to have absorbed the duel and Naul's not so subtle flexing of his adulthood without feeling the need to comment. His green eyes took her in carefully, wrinkling at the edges as if he was going to smile even if his mouth didn't seem capable of turning upward in that way in this moment, "It's been aged in Hoxian dxe'ck barrels, actually. The dxe'ck grain grown on the steppes is fermented into a clear alcohol called dhul and those barrels add a very strong undertone. Many mistake it for Mugrobi in process."

He smirked then, finally the hint of a smile, and then shifted in his seat to rest his elbows on the table and look at Nauleth as if he hadn't really seen him in the past eight years.

He hadn't.

The elder Siordanti watched Athrym's fingers brush his son's face and watched his oldest son's expression falter in shyness and surprise. Iralia smiled and out of politeness looked down briefly into her wine glass as if she'd dropped something into it, but at least her expression was one of excitement compared to her Incumbent of a husband.

"Experimental nature, is it? I have no idea what young people are calling things these days." Hadrian quipped, pausing to sip his wine and consider his course of action, "I'm glad that some of my political correctness managed to trickle down to you, Nauleth, unorthodox though your methods may be. I'm sure all of Gior is thankful for your service to its Ambassador."

There was an edge of sarcasm there and the younger Siordanti blushed, reading deeply into the connotations. The reluctant professor recovered quickly, however, putting down his glass of wine and speaking with conviction, "I will find out myself come Winter Break, father, as Athrym has invited me to visit her homeland. I look forward to expanding my understanding of Physical Conversation while I'm there—"

The human returned again, offering a broad, apologetic smile as she set plates of appetizers on the table consisting of breads and cheeses and dried meats and fresh, in-season fruits probably from as far away as the Maluku Isles. It was all a gorgeous spread of little nibbles, and the young woman set about refilling wine glasses, "The main course will be ready shortly, so please enjoy these small plates until then. Thank you."

Without looking up, she was gone again, leaving Naul to pick up where he left off,

"—as well as possibly finish the research I've been conducting to wrap up my post-graduate dissertation for my second degree in Physics." Really, Nauleth wanted a few more degrees, but he was far too busy to pursue any more. He'd just have to learn things on his own outside of Brunnhold's educational offerings or at least pull a few other galdori together to accomplish the studies he'd like to conduct.

Everyone paused to eat, Hadrian offering a very brief blessing in the name of Alioe with hand motions. Passing small plates and nibbling, there was a thankful lull in conversation for several moments, one which Nauleth needed to regather his wits in the presence of his father especially. The small talk that followed was mostly made up of gossip about Annaxi politics, about Brunnhold developments, and about the unseasonably cool Roalis weather. He couldn't ignore the niggling feeling that the Incumbent had some ulterior motive for this dinner that the junior professor had requested, but he couldn't for the life of himself figure out what.

Then again, so did Naul.

While he'd managed to say nothing for an entire season, he'd carefully made a series of decisions, ones that currently filled him with trepidation and excitement at the same time. It would have been the truth to say that the younger Siordanti would have preferred not to include his parents in this particularly personal process had he been able to, but the Anaxi social structure demanded their participation. His meager junior professor salary demanded their participation.

He'd barely nibbled on the appetizers, nervous against the imposing field of his father and jittery in the presence of his overly interested mother. The tall redhead took a moment to refill everyone's wine glasses, choosing to stand to do so, and cleared his throat as he set the near-empty bottle back down on the table.

"—well, perhaps I should take advantage of everyone's attention before our meals arrive." Nauleth's voice wavered and he slid a hand into the pocket of his well-tailored pants, so suddenly filled with an obvious awkwardness that his palms felt like they'd stolen all the moisture form lips because they were so dry, "As much as I would like to say that I brought us together for a simple family dinner, nothing about us Siordantis is ever simple. After almost eight years of not speaking, I thought it fitting to invite you to be present—"

Turning from addressing the entire table, he smiled warmly at Athrym, fingers closing around something small and expensive in a velvet pouch in his pocket, heart fluttering fiercely in his freckled chest beneath far too much finery,

"—while I declare my heartfelt desire to formally court and propose marriage to the accomplished sorceress and Ambassador of Gior, Miss Bruthgrave. If she desires the same, of course."
Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
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Writer: Raksha
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Sat Nov 10, 2018 6:18 am

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25th Roalis, 2718
​​UPTOWN | DUSK
Inner Theme SongShow
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If Athrym noticed the awkward, uncomfortable tension in the man by her side as she complimented him, she didn’t reveal it. Truth be told, she did, but it made no difference. The Gioran came from a culture where compliments were paid only when they genuinely mattered, a bold and direct people with little in the way of subtlety or hints. If you had something to say, you said it.
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​​Her summer gaze fell on Hadrian, even if in the peripheral of her vision she could see Nauleth all but locked on the man with what could only be interpreted as nervousness. The Ambassadors icy temper flared briefly as she felt a sense of protectiveness for the red haired Anaxi against his father, swallowing it with a practiced smile as the older Siordanti studied her, finally revealing the background behind the undertones of the wine. Athrym raised her eyebrows in surprise, lifting the glass to breathe in the scent before tasting it again.
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​​ “Hoxian dxe’ck. I would never have picked it. I wonder how it would age a cognac…” It was clear the heiress was already contemplating how to bring the new and exotic flavour to her father’s business, but she pushed further talk aside as the green eyed Incumbant finally allowed his face to crack what could be suggested as a minor smile, his gaze falling on the son he’d denied for eight years.
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​​Eight clocking years.
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​​Taking her hand from Naul’s face, she curled it in her lap as the other held her wine delicately, hoping the tinge of pink that rouged her cheeks at Hadrian’s suggestive comments wasn’t too obvious. It would be ridiculous to think a politician wouldn’t see through their carefully worded conversation, still, the Ambassador allowed her brow to arch ever so slighty and lifted her glass a little in a small acknowledgement.
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​​No wonder her father liked Incumbant Siordanti. He had more wit than the old fool had coin.
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​​Placing her glass down, Athrym looked warmly at the Professor, ignoring the human when she reappeared as though she didn’t exist. In reality, it took everything in her being to do so, wanting to slap her thick hands away from the food before she made it unfit for galdori consumption. Glancing at Iralia, the young woman offered her another dimpled flash of a smile, before turning her attention back to Nauleth’s explination of their future pursuits. They paused then, Hadrian offering up a blessing to Alioe, whilst Athrym instinctively adjusted her own hand motions to incorporate Imaan into hers. Alioe was Goddess of Time and all paid her homage, but The Eternal Child was her peoples God. It would be disrespectul to leave Him from the blessing. Taking up the tail end of Naul’s words, Athrym nodded as the others began to nibble.
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​​ “I’ve managed to plead a case of entry for your son into Gior actually, based on his fascinating research. The current matriarch of the Da Huane family, Lomenak, has an interest in a more practical application.” She almost beamed with pride at the comments, delighted that the Da Huanes had granted a right of passage for the Anaxi. Retrieving snippets of the fruits that were unavailable in the Gioran mountain ranges, along with a few piece of cheese and cured meat, Athrym picked at her food whilst they made small talk. The weather, the politics, the state of affairs in Brunnhold. Gods, she held her smile but it would have been less painful to gouge her eye out with a fork.
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​​As the taller man stood beside her to refill their glasses, the pale foreigner noted he’d barely eaten, concerned that the older Siordanti with his heavy field and curious half smile had turned his stomach. Holding her glass to him, the Gioran brushed a hand on his arm with an encouraging smile. They didn’t have to stay, anytime he wanted, she would leave. He just needed to say the words. Lifting the glass close to her lips, she smiled at his parents as Nauleth cleared his throat to speak. It must be to tell them they would be departing post the meals. Mentally, the blonde prepared herself to leave. Did she have her purse? Was there any customary goodbyes she needed to complete? Darn she would need to hurry up with the wine. He continued to address his parents, again, eight years. Who held a grudge against their own child for that long?
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​​Bringing the rim of the crystal to her mouth, Athrym took a deeper sip of the wine in an effort to help finish it, her green eyes widening and darting from the Siordanti’s to their son as she realised he was now looking down at herself.
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​​"—while I declare my heartfelt desire to formally court and propose marriage to the accomplished sorceress and Ambassador of Gior, Miss Bruthgrave. If she desires the same, of course."
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​​The young Ambassador brought the glass away from her face, choking down the dry beverage rapidly with a small cough behind her free hand. She placed the drink on the table, cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink and summer eyes still wide on the Professor, pulse thrumming madly in her ears as her heart quite possibly skipped a beat.
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​​ “What?!” She blurted with all the decorum of a beached fish, mouth agape and face shocked. Her gaze finally took in the fact that his hand was buried deep in his pocket, and the warm smile on his handsomely unique face, field slowly humming as her brain pulled together what had just happened.
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​​Professor Nauleth Siordanti had just proposed. To her. In front of his parents.
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​​Her mind reeled for a moment. Of course, the blonde had been harbouring strong feelings about the man, but for whatever reasons there had never been a proper time to say just exactly what those feelings were. This wasn’t a flight of fancy, this Anaxas trip. It was her job, one she took seriously even if she didn’t think the country lived up to the hype. Nauleth had been a delightlfully unexpected encounter, one that had blossomed and morphed into something so glaringly obvious that she should have said it before. But she hadn’t, he hadn’t. Why though? Why hadn’t they, when it made her weak at the knees and sent her heart racing every time he smiled at her? A ridiculously stupid, dreamy grin crossed her face slowly.
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​​Athrym Bruthgrave, you silly clocking kenser. You’ve fallen in love, and didn’t even realise it.
​​
​​ “I…I…I didn’t realise you felt like that, Nauleth.” The blonde creature said softly once she recalled how to speak, forgetting for the moment that they weren’t alone at the table, her dimpled grin accompanied by the sudden sting of tears. Her hands had frozen, one on the table cloth and the other hovering just before her mouth, gaze locked on his gold rimmed sea glass eyes. An uncharacteristic self-conscious giggle slipped from the Gioran, and she blinked back the waterworks that wanted so badly to come.
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Nauleth Siordanti
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Race: Galdor
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: Magus in the Making
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Sun Nov 11, 2018 11:37 pm

"Of electricity and it's practical application into every day life, especially to provide power to the whole Kingdom." Nauleth felt the need to explain his rather wild experimentation to his mother and father who both looked far more surprised than he expected them to when Athrym let them know she'd been working on his entry to Gior. It was a difficult process, especially considering he wasn't a businessman or a politician or even a magister; he was just a junior professor with a peculiar ambition and even more peculiar form of genius.

Did the tall redhead hoard the unexpected news over his parents just a little? Clocking right, he did. Even Hadrian seemed caught off guard, and that felt quite emboldening for Naul, who wrestled with the decision and the confidence to bring up the very direct and very bold things he'd decided to discuss over this dinner. His heart fluttered in his freckled chest and a cold sweat trailed down along his spine, pooling at the curve of his lower back.

Was she excited?

Was she horrified?

He was far too socially inept to read her face or her reaction, the sting of rejection not a new sensation, after all.

The young Siordanti's rather formal proposal left his lips with obvious nervousness and color rose to his cheeks, one side of his face settling into a shy sort of smile before the other side followed suit. He noticed she'd shifted as if he'd signaled her to leave, and so it was obvious she hadn't at all thought that such words would come out of his mouth. Her reaction was almost as unexpected as his proposal, Nauleth awkward for a moment, flustered, and confused. His smile faltered, fleeting, replaced not by a straight face but a chagrined one, fingers curling into palms in the pockets of his well-tailored trousers,

"I feel a great many things for you, Athrym." The junior professor offered quietly as if attempting an explanation, "Over the past few seasons, I've come to respect your magical prowess as well as your intellectual tenacity, and I feel as though we compliment each other well, academically speaking, among other things that are perhaps far more emotional than I endeavored to feel about anyone, let alone yourself. Am I being too bold in my assumptions?"

He wasn't going to say those words, not here in front of people who'd hardly visited him when he was in his recovery from the backlash all those years ago. They weren't going to be given the privilege of him professing his love to anyone, but especially not the lovely Gioran Ambassador. Naul's smile grew a little more confident and he offered Athrym a hand, opening his mouth to ask what she really thought—

When Hadrian started clapping.

The tall redhead all but crawled out of his skin at the unexpected sound, gold-rimmed eyes widening and hands clenching tightly as he tilted his head away from the petite blonde in front of him to glance across the table, seeing the well-aged face of his father grinning widely like a hatcher that had finally caught the meal it had been waiting for in the mist.

Naul blinked, feeling dizzy, madly grasping at straws.

"Well done, son. Well done. I never would have guessed, after all these years, that we would land on the same page." The elder Siordanti cleared his throat after a good chuckle and placed one of his hands on the thigh of his lovely wife, Iralia. She smiled and looked up at her son with the faintest hint of apology as if she, too, was in on whatever was happening.

"I took quite a gamble in hoping that you two would find some things in common, in promising Sir Bruthgrave a husband worth his daughter's time and beauty. Congratulations—not only do you have my blessing, but your dowry has already been paid, Miss Bruthgrave." Hadrian's expression was almost unreadable: satisfied, eager, but also strangely happy. Did he approve of who his son had become? Was he glad feelings had developed between the pair he'd obviously already arranged a marriage for?

The junior professor stared, heart stammering in his freckled chest, wanting to crawl away and hide, wanting to crush the sudden creeping feeling of betrayal before it clawed its way up into his skull.

His father had planned what? This?

Oh, gods, but he did love her. He meant all of what he'd said—

"What? You've already arranged this—No." Naul stuttered, confused.

"Was it coincidence, the Politician's Ball? Or was it a father's care for his son?" Hadrian offered impishly.

Iralia rolled her eyes as if aware of how awkward things were becoming, "Nauleth, sit, and we can discuss all of this quietly. Carefully."

The younger Siordanti sat heavily, one hand on the table and the other searching for Athrym's as if by habit. What as there to discuss? How did this happen right behind his back? What did his father even care or stand to gain from such a venture as making choices for Naul without his permission? He felt angry and excited at the same time, stomach churning, mind racing.

"What is there to discuss?"
Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.
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Athrym Bruthgrave
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Mon Nov 12, 2018 6:12 am

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25th Roalis, 2718
​​UPTOWN | DUSK
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Athrym smiled, curling her hand from her face to lower it slightly as Nauleth spoke further, his words not quite the words that her own mind had conjured up, but knowing that professions of love probably wouldn’t sit will in front of family such as Hadrian Siordanti. She began to reach for his hand as he extended it, readying to answer the man, to confirm that of course he wasn’t being to bold. Clocking yes she would accept his—
​​
​​When Hadrian started clapping.
​​
​​The Ambassador looked over at the Incumbant, his grin smug and far too reminiscent of her own fathers when he sealed another business deal for the distillery. Her wide summer eyes flicked to Iralia for a moment, smile fading to be rapidly replaced by a small frown. Was Hadrian really that clocking excited to see his son propose? Perhaps it was an Anaxi thing. It was only as the politician continued that Athrym felt her stomach drop and her heart felt like cold lead in her chest.
​​
​​”…promising Sir Bruthgrave a husband worth his daughter's time and beauty. Congratulations—not only do you have my blessing, but your dowry has already been paid, Miss Bruthgrave."
​​
​​The pale Gioran pulled her hand into her lap, looking down at the well manicured appendage where it sat starkly against the blue material of her dress, fighting the boiling temper that flared up within her and the shift in the reason for the tears biting at the corners of her eyes. Was this how Carmel had felt, so many years ago when Lord Bruthgrave and her grandfather had arranged a marriage for them? She felt so stupid for getting so emotionally invested. Was Naul in on it too?
​​
​​No, he couldn’t be. She and the Professor had met of their own accord. Had learned and found love of their own accord…
​​
​​Hadn’t they? Or…had she?
​​
​​The red haired Anaxi dropped down in the chair beside her, reaching for her hand almost thoughtlessly. The blonde creature felt a deep blush racing across her face, glancing at his hand beside hers for a moment, before taking it with a strange frown. As Iralia tried to diffuse the situation, the Gioran lifted her face with a jade stare and an angry pout. Her field simmered with seething anger and her temple throbbed mildly.
​​
​​ “Nothing. There’s nothing to discuss. My appointment at Brunnhold was nothing to do with my academic skill and everything to do with my fathers influence.” Athrym said cooly, her brow arching dangerously, realising suddenly that it didn’t matter whether she loved Nauelth Siordanti or whether he loved her. Because it was all a neat and tidy set up, and marriage was just a convinent stepping stone for their families. It was a smart move, a clever way of bringing Gior and Anaxas even closer. The Ambassador taking up with the red haired Anaxi Professor, it would be a very Da Huane strategic move. The blonde laughed at herself softly. There was every chance that Lomenak had been aware too, and her clever convincing to allow Nauleth passage had just been some elaborate test.
​​
​​ “Of course it’s a logical step, the Bruthgraves and Siordanti’s uniting in marriage. Wouldn’t want to waste good stock on a poor arrangement.” The young woman lifted her chin, refusing to let her temper get the best of her, no matter how extraordinarily hard it was.
​​
​​Quite suddenly, it was all a bit too much for the Ambassador. Her blood rushed in her ears and her head ached, and frustratingly her eyes still stung. Pulling her hand from the taller man’s own, the blonde dabbed at her mouth with the napkin before dropping it in the table and standing.
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​​ “Excuse me a just a moment.” She said with a curt nod, before side stepping from her chair and sweeping her soft sari in one arm, striding inside the small restaurant and drawing a deep breath. She was furious, and hurt, and confused. Naul had no idea, of course he had no idea. But what had seemed like such a wonderful heartfelt surprise now felt artificial and cheated.
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​​ “A shot of Imaans Grace.” Athrym called to the keep inside, shifting her steps from the bathroom to the bar. The man nodded, smalltalk held back by the hard look on her face, uncorking the pretty crystal decanter and drawing a shot of the slightly luminescenct clear alcohol. The Gioran picked it up and knocked it back, wincing and leaning against the bar with one crooked forearm, lowering the small glass and rolling it by its rounded edge back and forth on the wood. She couldn’t stay here drinking, but the young woman wasn’t ready to return to the table just yet.
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Nauleth Siordanti
Posts: 189
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2018 12:19 am
Topics: 22
Race: Galdor
Location: Brunnhold, Anaxas
: Magus in the Making
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Tue Nov 27, 2018 4:34 pm

"Wait—" The reluctant professor was still in a state of frustrated surprise, his triumphant proposal dashed against the ground by his father's need to be in the spotlight. Hadrian's victorious plans shone in the setting sun like the crystal of their wine glasses and Nauleth's field tightened with a simmering resentment that he'd attempted to tuck away just for the purpose of this evening. He'd wanted to make an attempt to give everything a second chance, and here he was reminded why it had been a good thing he'd kept his distance from his sneaky Incumbent of a parent and his compliantly conniving mother who played at soft kindness to hide a calculating cunning beneath it all.

The tall redhead glared across the table at his father even as he felt the shift in Athrym's field and the limply reluctant acceptance of his hand over hers,

"—no. I had no idea that our parents had spoken." The young Siordanti blurted as if he'd read her thoughts, his voice firm and accusatory in the direction of his own kin, "Why didn't you say something, father? You've had all this time—"

He began to question what was quickly unraveling, the heart that had been swelling in his chest with excitement and nervousness quickly deflating into a heavy rock of an organ, falling heavily in his chest. It felt like brailing, the sensation of control being wrenched so powerfully from his grasp in this moment. The petite Gioran next to him all but shoved his hand away and stood suddenly, and non-magical backlash began to unfold around him,

"Athrym—hold on—"

He knew the anger in her field and yet he reluctantly let her slip away, turning instead to place both hands on the table and lean forward, narrowing his gold-rimmed eyes at the two people who he'd made every attempt to trust one last time, "You could have waited. There was no need to say that here. Now. In this moment. How dare you think yourself capable of making such decisions for me—"

"I think I did a clocking good job, thank you." Hadrian smirked, unphased by the defiance of his ungrateful spawn, green eyes regarding his eldest son without a hint of regret, "You seem to agree, given you were about to spontaneously propose without any prompting."

"Hadrian—" Iralia attempted desperately to diffuse the situation she could feel was building with the tensing of Nauleth's field, her eyes darting between the two men.

"You knew?" The junior professor sneered at the woman who'd birthed him, not sparing her from his frustration.

"Yes, but I agree that this wasn't a good time to—"

"Clocking hell. Eight godsbedamned years of silence and the only galdor who's changed for the better is me." Naul stood with a vehemence he thought he'd long since buried, tossing his own napkin in the middle of the table and stepping away without even asking to be excused, nearly bumping into the eager waitress as he turned.

The young human squeaked, wine bottle in one hand and a tray of food in another, barely managing to hold everything together even as wine sloshed on her person, sprinkling the tall redhead's vest and dribbling on his shoes. He couldn't bring himself to apologize, side-stepping her instead, and making his way toward Athrym who'd fled into the restaurant proper and all but slumped against the bar. It wasn't as though he could hide his approach, his aura a pulsing mess of his confusion and flustered disappointment that he had no interest in reigning in at the moment.

He didn't wait for her to turn in his direction, worried she'd silence him with some quick angry phrase, sliding between the seats next to her so that his body brushed against her own without concern for the inappropriateness of physical touch in public. He waved off the glance of the barkeep to lean against the wooden counter instead,

"I'm sorry, Athrym. I really didn't know. I just—I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to do something grand, you know, just because of how you make me feel—clock the Circle—and how I feel about you. I would never in a millennia see that coming from Hadrian, for all I know he's making that up just to steal the floor like we're all a bunch of Incumbents lobbying for favor—"

He searched her face with his sea glass-colored eyes for a moment, flushed with embarrassment and anger, freckles hidden beneath the bright red that graced his pale cheeks. He slumped against the seat behind him, defeated as if someone had countered every spell he ever knew,

"—gods, I would never. I meant what I said—I did. I. Just. I'm sorry."
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