The second Grand Hallifaxian Collectivist Ball

Irillia · January 2017

Here's a log of the second Grand Hallifaxian Collectivist Ball, celebrating the reemergence of Lady Isune from Her artistic contemplations. I edited out a lot of the eating, drinking, applauding, etc., because this log would have been twice as long with all of that included.

My apologies for how long this turned out to be! (It is the log that never ends, it just goes on and on my friends...)

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Links:

Opening of the Ball and Speech

Wondir's Musical Performance

Costume Drama and Artistic Differences

A Few Rounds of Haiku

Isune's Grand Announcement

Costume Contest

Costume Contest, continued

The Last Dance

Irillia · January 2017

Opening Greetings and Speech

The Grand Collectivist Ballroom.

Banks of clouds roil about here. Painted clouds drift across the top of a small table. Wispy white light billows from a frosted glass chandelier overhead. A conversational couch sheathed in sky-blue silk graces the room with its sinuous, crescentic curves. Seated in the orchestra pit of the ballroom, the various Symphonists of the State Symphony Orchestra remain poised to perform, awaiting instruction. Before the entirety of the orchestra, Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep holds aloft a diamond baton whilst studying the sheet of music at his podium with intense scrutiny. There are 12 porcelain tea cups embellished with golden feathers here. There are 12 dainty vanilla and strawberry-buttercream tea cakes here. There are 12 petite cinnamon and brown sugar tea cakes here. There are 14 plump pigeon pies here. There are 12 resplendent thunderbird cookies atop a sugary nimbus here. There are 14 generous goblets of beaded ice cream here.

You see a single exit leading northwest.

(Hallifax): You say, "Greetings, citizens. The second Grand Hallifaxian Collectivist Ball is ready to begin. Do please make your way to the ballroom if you would like."

The Divine voice of Isune, the Aesthete echoes in your head, "Her inquiries with me have been most interesting. I believe her creativity may be a positive addition to My canvas, no? If she is the only one, then after, I have a gift. But, it is surprise, so do let me know when all have performed who wished."

With a stately flourish, a classic trill musician enters in from the northwest and bows.

Ciaran, riding Yephy, the giant cuttlefish, enters from the northwest, emanating an aura of immense power.

Yephy, the giant cuttlefish, jets in from the northwest.

You curtsey gracefully before Ciaran.

Glancing around the largely empty ballroom, a classic trill musician says, "Ah, we are not too late after all. Your pardon, Archmage. We will begin setting up at once."

A classic trill musician enters with a prompt bow and begins tuning his instrument in preparation.

Ciaran bows respectfully to you.

Ciaran Pavok says, "It would seem that I'm very unfashionably timely."

You say, "Thank you, please do."

A classic trill musician takes a place alongside his companion, opening his violin case and bringing the instrument to his chin for tuning.

You say to Ciaran, "I am glad to see you attend, unfashionably timely or not."

Ciaran Pavok says, "Thank you for pulling all of the delicate strings as you so elegantly do."

An uneven portal rips open the air and a falcon of massive proportions flutters through on unreliable wings before the rift snaps shut once more.

Luce arrives from the northwest.

Ciaran shuffles off to ingratiate himself with the snacks.

Volucer flaps in and swoops to land beside Irillia, with a pleased preening of feathers.

You beam broadly at Volucer.

Volucer chirps happily.

p volucer

Wide and dilated eyes of gold foil quickly focus and unfocus as the falcon turns its head with short jerks and bobs to eye anything that moves too fast for its liking. His nervously clicking beak and talons are a mother of pearl white, while the scales around his nostrils, eyes, and forelegs are blue quartz, though all of them are scuffed, dull, and in poor condition. Downy feathers are matted to the top of his beak and head, leading back to a ragged crest, and the once long and elegant feathers that tipped his ears have been broken clean off. His feathers overall are white and patterned with dull grey bars that work their way across his back, but many are haggard from little care and overzealous preening, and even more feathers have transparent markings and rusty stains from improper molting. He holds his wings halfway opened in a permanent mantling stance, though they occasionally flick open or shut in a jittery twitch. He is wearing: a bright red bow tie that wraps around his neck.

Volucer does not even register your presence as a threat.

He weighs about 134 pounds.

He is loyal to the Divine Order of Isune, the Aesthete.

You cannot see what Volucer is holding.

It has the following aliases: volucer, falcon, isune_pet.

You say to Volucer, "Always a pleasure to see you, Volucer. But where is your costume?"

Plucking at his red bow tie with irritation, Volucer says, "Lady said I needed this! Isn't it wretched??"

<Daraius, Nelras, Aramel, Falmiis, Phoebus and her snow phoenix, and Wondir arrive, with much bowing, curtseying, and greeting>

You smile and say to Daraius, "Dear Marquis, always a pleasure to see you."

You say to Nelras, "Greetings, Opus. So kind of you to grace us with your presence."

Daraius Shevat says, "Likewise, Minister. I'm very pleased I have the opportunity to attend."

Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says to you, "It is an honour to be able to attend."

Miella Windwhisper sweeps gracefully in from the northwest, trailing exquisite magnolia silk.

Falmiis performs a polite bow toward the gathered citizens.

You say, "Greetings, everyone. My goodness, so many illustrious guests at once."

Gathering her magnolia train in her hand, Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird dips into a deep and perfect curtsey.

Shedrin takes a deep breath as the crystal surface of his face softens and shifts in colour, a muted glow appearing within.

You smile and say to Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird, "Welcome, Lady Windwhisper. It's an honour to have a Master Artist attend this humble gathering."

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird says, "Oh no, Archmage! The honour is mine, truly, or upon the Lady Herself. One could hardly call oneself an artist without attending."

Daraius dips his muzzle politely to the new arrivals.

Ruffling his feathers in agitation, Volucer tries pecking and prying the red bow tie off.

You laughingly say to Volucer, "Oh, do stop that, Volucer. I think it looks charming on you."

Nelras directs a polite bow towards the new arrivals.

Linira Cloudwalker wanders languidly in from the northwest, slowly blinking her sleepy eyes.

"Hmph!" Volucer snorts.

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.

Luce carefully edges his way to the edge of the room to examine the fresco.

Aramel looks towards Volucer with an amused smile, taking in his ruffled feathers and grumpy demeanor.

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird says to Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer, "Linny! You made it."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat murmurs, "Linny."

"I mean," Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird adds quickly, looking flustered, "Lady Cloudwalker."

Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer says to Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird, "Of course I did. My, I hope I'm not too late."

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird gives Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer a peck on the cheek.

You say, "Thank you all for your patience. I believe we are only waiting for Lady Sylandra to make her grand entrance."

You smile and say, "Fashionably late, as I'm sure that she would call it."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Fashionably l- yes yes."

Daraius's whiskers twitch subtly.

Volucer says, "Do all ladies do that? This fashionably late business?"

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "She likes to pose a few times in her outfits."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "As I, uh, found out."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to Volucer, "A Lady arrives precisely when she intends to."

You say, "Ah, lovely. Thank you all for coming."

Volucer says to Wondir, "My Lady says She will only arrive when She's perfectly poised and presentable."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to Volucer, "As is a Lady's right."

Clearing her throat, you say, "If you will all excuse me, I would like to wax somewhat eloquent with a speech, and then we shall begin with the serious business of enjoying a ball."

Daraius bows politely to Sylandra in greeting, lifting her hand gently and planting a delicate

canine kiss upon her wrist.

Nelras turns to pay attention to you.

Volucer hmphs to himself then mutters about a Lady's right to stick bows on poor birds.

Daraius swivels his ears towards you, listening with rapt attention.

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird carefully smooths down the front of her magnolia gown before turning her attention fully to the Archmage.

You have emoted: Irillia lifts her gaze briefly to the frescoed ceiling of the ballroom, before returning her gaze back to the assembled citizenry before her.

Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer lazily draws her wings to and fro through the air, fanning

them slowly.

Luce swivels his ears toward you politely.

Ciaran casually slides over to another gathering of treats.

Raising her voice to carry to the back of the crowd, you say, "Greetings, citizens of Hallifax and honoured guests of the Collective. I hope that this month finds you in a state of happiness, harmony, and high spirits."

You smile and say, "I would like to thank you all for attending this costume ball, hosted by the Order of Lady Isune, the Aesthete, in honour of Her recent reemergence into the Basin of Life."

You say, "It has been an immense delight to welcome Her back to the city and to know that an Elder Goddess of Her artistry, compassion, and altruism is once more watching over our citizens and inspiring them with Her creativity and inner strength."

You look thoughtful and say, "The last time that Lady Isune revealed Herself to the Basin of Life, it came to pass during the first Grand Hallifaxian Collectivist Ball hosted within the city, a masquerade ball attended by many citizens and several unusual masked guests."

Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep says, "I assure you, it is the highest honour to conduct for the glory of the Beacon of Harmony."

With a flourish of his arm, Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep bows deeply.

A classic trill musician gives Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep the once-over, eyeing him suspiciously.

With a soft chuckle, you say, "When it came time for everyone to remove their masks and reveal their identities, the last to unmask was a lovely trill lady, who eventually showed herself to be none other than Lady Isune, brought back from the Dreaming by the efforts of Lord Zvoltz."

You say, "Since then, she quickly joined Hallifax's divine pantheon and has watched over the city founded by the shards of Her beloved sister Lady Trillillial and of Lord Xyl, guiding and protecting our citizens through times of hardship and happiness alike."

Beaming radiantly toward the crowd, you say, "It is our great joy to have Lady Isune returned to the Beacon of Harmony once more, after Her long withdrawal from the activities of the Basin. With the new art of lightweaving that She has introduced to Master Artist Shalmae Silverplume at Solstice time, I am sure that many more wonders and delights will be arising soon enough."

You smile and say, "Until then, it is my profound hope that you will enjoy this celebration of Her return in a second Grand Collectivist Ball."

Ribbons of dawn-hued brilliance bursts across the sky, the artistic display heralding the arrival of Isune, the Aesthete, to mortal perception.

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird brings her hands together in polite applause.

Iridescent motes alight from the aether, converging in brilliance until revealing the lustrous form of Isune at the heart.

You say to Wondir, "Now, if you are ready, would you like to debut your new song at the stage now, Junior Fellow?"

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird humbly drops one knee to the ground before Isune, genuflecting reverently in Her presence.

Aramel sweeps a low curtsey before Isune.

Isune arrives bedecked in Her new costume for the Ball and smiles radiantly upon the assembled group, dawn-hued brilliance touching all in Her view.

ex isune

She is a radiant immortal and carries Herself with effortless grace, suffusing the space around Her with sparkling motes that twinkle like morning sunlight. Gazing about with the preoccupied inconstancy of an artist, Her eyes are a crystalline blue-green flecked with gold and rust, though often their colours are lost to an inherent glow that flares and dims with the slightest shift of mood. Her high, prominent cheekbones, faintly hawkish nose, and full lips lend Her an aristocratic air which manages to complement rather than contrast Her sense of wispy, gossamer delicacy; Her form is slender, even fragile in build and appearance, and Her skin is fair to the point of translucence. Seemingly unconnected to Her, ephemeral and almost liquid wings which shimmer over with rainbows of colour like oil on water slowly sweep to and fro. Faint sparks of light drift within and about those wings in sporadic, yet intricate patterns, silently dancing around Her. She is wearing a snowflake preserved inside a gem of ice, a starlit circlet crowned with the Sun-in-Glory, a mist-emblazoned ring of smoky quartz, a crystalline rose of pure diamond, a bracelet of soothing twilight, an evanescent cloak of lightweaving feathers, a dawn-hued ball gown with an empire waist, a gloriously plumed, bird-of-paradise mask and open-toed, crystal slippers tufted with bird-of-paradise down.

Lustrous feathers frame Her face and cascade down Her back in a mane of snowy-white, whimsically threaded with wisps of daylight and strung with frosted crystal decorations.

You look at a dawn-hued ball gown with an empire waist that Isune is wearing:

Empire-waisted with a very feminine silhouette, this radiant ball gown boasts the finest shot silk with a warp of indigo and rose accompanied by a weft of yellow and gold. The weave's effects mimic the hues visible at dawn, the full brilliance evident at every turn and twirl. A halcyon ribbon of charmeuse wraps around to form the empire waist, ending with a dainty bow at the front. An underlying panel of ivory peeks out from a triangle at the front of the skirt, stitched with golden birds of paradise embroidery. The same ivory embraces the arms in elbow-length gloves that begin just below short, gossamer bell sleeves of silk. An elegant court style train drapes behind, gently caressing the ground.

Glancing about nervously, Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says, "Ah... well... yes."

Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer curtseys gracefully before Isune.

Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says to Isune, "Thank you for gracing us with Your presence, Lady Aesthete."

You say, "Then if you will all follow me, I would like to introduce the crowning jewel of this particular ball, a musical performance by Junior Fellow Wondir, at the city's stage."

Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep says, "For a mere fee of 1000 gold, the State Symphony Orchestra is

happy to perform for its patrons."

Lady Sylandra Shevat, the Winter Sonata smiles and says to Daraius, "I believe you will enjoy this one."

Laughing quietly, Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to Isune, "It appears we had a similar idea..."

A low, contented growl arises within Daraius's chest.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says to Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep, "Conductor, I'm sure we will listen to your fine music at some point, no need to fret."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat asks, "Are we going to head over to the stage, then?"

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says, "Yes, alright. To the stage then!"

Volucer tilts his head back and turns his eyes to the sky for a brief moment.

Maligorn nods solemnly.

You say, "Indeed!"

Irillia · January 2017

Wondir's Musical Performance

<Note: Unfortunately, I couldn't reproduce all the pretty colours in her performance here. You should go see yourself at the stage if you want the full experience!>

The curtains part on an ornate stage of crystal and gold, heralding the start of the performance of 'An Untitled Song'.

A light aria resounds from within the depths of the Opera House, bright with high soprano notes.

Daraius swivels his ears towards an ornate stage of crystal and gold, listening with rapt attention.

Quietly turning to Miella Nelras Says "Not too much difficulty on my part, although quite some time." With a slight smile, he adds "I see that you managed to decide on a costume as well, and I must say that it looks absolutely wonderful.".

Maligorn's ears perk up with a sudden interest.

Four trill musicians enter, two from stage left and two from stage right. The subtle rustle of sheet music and feathers carry through the Opera House as they set up music stands and begin to tune their cellos.

Static charges are audible before the lights flicker and centre stage is bathed in a spotlight

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird's lips quirk in a small hint of mischief that is quickly washed away by the opening of the curtains.

Nelras turns to give his attention to the stage as the curtains open.

A female Trill of short stature and sparrowlike features enters from stage left, offering a flourished bow upon reaching centre stage.

Junior Fellow Wondir clears her throat as she enters from stage right, her stride calm and carefully measured as she comes to stand beside the sparrowlike Trill of nearly equal height. She offers a graceful curtsey, first to the musicians in the corner of the stage, and then to the audience. "Thank you for joining me. I offer you an untitled song composed by myself and the dances that move me."

Isune summons a cloud divan then rests comfortably upon it to enjoy the performance with the tiniest of smiles of anticipation.

Each duet of cellists bow once to the audience, and once again to the dancers. Placing their bows against the strings, they begin to introduce a rich and melodic waltz.

Turning towards Junior Fellow Wondir and lifting her hand in an offering, the sparrowlike trill takes a bow in time to the music.

Junior Fellow Wondir raises her hand and titters girlishly, accepting the offer with her other hand before turning and completing a curtsy in time to the music. As she rises to full height, each dancer moves forward to close the distance, adjusting their postures. Their clasped hands are held slightly aloft whilst free hands are placed on upper back and shoulder, respectively.

It becomes more apparent that the Trill will be leading this dance. A smile transforms Wondir's face as she closes her eyes and the dance commences.

Junior Fellow Wondir tilts her head to one side, listening and nodding slowly in time with the basic steps of the Waltz and the deep-bellied accompaniment of cellos. Her smile widens and she takes a long, steadying breath.

In a high, clear soprano, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "Born of the darkest night, beckoned by the glow of dusk..."

The cellists on stage make meaningful eye contact. Slowly and subtly, the rhythm and volume of the music adjusts ever so slightly to suit the new vocal element.

Junior Fellow Wondir smiles wider, her shoulders relaxing as her voice sounds out again mid-turn.

Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "...balanced 'twixt asleep and waking, dawn will rise and learn to trust."

Junior Fellow Wondir purses her lips in concentration as her lead takes them both through a clean and elegant spin. The music picks up and she relaxes once more.In a high soprano, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "Clouds are rimmed with golden light, and yet are silver-lined..."

The sparrowlike trill varies the dance slightly, keeping the basic structure but using more of the dance floor and adding the occasional twirl

Hair loosening from its stays and face shining with joy, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "...painted by the Minds that muse, creative and Divine."

Junior Fellow Wondir stiffens infinitesimally as her dance partners hand lowers down her back. The cellists are ever attentive, drawing out one note a little longer to accommodate the hesitation in her next step.

A storm-coloured greyhound pants heavily, his tail wagging enthusiastically.

Inhaling sharply and dropping an octave, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "Movement in the stillness with the surfacing of Sun..."

A bead of sweat glistening near the edge of her hairline, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "...illuminating dewdrops in the webs that night has spun."

The spotlight dims slightly as the stage receives a mote more of illumination from the skylight.

Ciaran bows abruptly.

Ciaran, riding Yephy, the giant cuttlefish, leaves to the northeast, emanating an aura of immense power.

Yephy, the giant cuttlefish, jets off to the northeast.

Junior Fellow Wondir is emboldened, leaning in to murmur something in her partners ear that causes the trill to laugh as they both continue gliding and twirling across the dance floor.

With a telling dip of her head, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "Discordant are the fears that bitter tongues and leaden feet..."

Tilting her head back to reveal a sheepish grin, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "...but when once fearful tongues taste love, the notes are extra sweet."

Reflecting the sky visible through the skylight, the dance floor takes on a subtle rosy hue

Junior Fellow Wondir emits a surprised squeak as her dance partner leads her through a turn and dips her over one arm with a playful grin.

Junior Fellow Wondir narrows her eyes and fails to hide a smirk. Righting herself,she disengages and twirls just out of reach. The dancers exchange a glance before stepping forward in time and rejoining hands, their steps renewed with a playful bounce.

Framed by a halo of thin, flyaway ringlets, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "When the sky drops all its feathers and horizons plume with light..."

The spotlight dims even more, the mirrored tiles of the dance floor reflecting additional light filtering through the glass above

Closing her eyes with a radiant smile, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "...the gaze of many, eastward drawn, fall upon a Beauteous sight."

A single curl pasted to her forehead, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "Ev'ry inhale pauses..."

Junior Fellow Wondir inhales sharply as her sparrowlike counterpart dips her by surprise once more. She opens her mouth to protest loudly, but thinks better of it. Instead, she bites her bottom lip before allowing herself to be lifted into an upright position.

The music pauses entirely, the growing brightness of the sky framing the moment in a soft pink light

Slightly out of breath as the silence extends, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "...Ev'ry exhale... lends a sigh..."

Blushing a shade darker than the dawning light, Junior Fellow Wondir sings, "...ev'ry heartbeat sings sweet whispers as our colours kiss on high."

The dancers stand very still, their arms still holding each other in a classic Waltz posture as the first gleaming rays of Sun shine through the skylight.

Junior Fellow Wondir dips her head, smiling softly as she disengages from her partner and both take a bow and curtsey respectively as the quartet offer one last lingering note. The entire cast exits stage left.

Wondir arrives from the ether.

Wondir comes out onto the stage for a final bow and curtain call.

You give up a round of applause.

Luce gives up a round of applause.

Rendon gives up a round of applause.

Nelras applauds as Wondir comes back onto the stage.

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird gives up a round of applause.

Falmiis gives up a round of applause.

Phoebus applauds politely.

Aramel applauds Wondir heartily.

Standing up with all due elegance, Isune dismisses Her cloud divan and smiles upon the performer, clapping with demure restraint though Her gaze is alight with pleased joy.

Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer gives up a round of applause.

Luce gets up off an opera bench of elaborately engraved marble.

Maligorn claps his hands together merrily.

Luce surreptitiously dusts himself off.

Wondir grins sheepishly.

Daraius offers Wondir a stolid round of applause, unable to hide his tail whipping enthusiastically behind him.

Sylandra applauds Wondir heartily.

Lady Sylandra Shevat, the Winter Sonata smiles and says, "Well done!"

Shedrin takes a deep breath as the crystal surface of his face softens and shifts in colour, a muted glow appearing within.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "Thank you, and thank you to all those that assisted me in learning the mechanics of production and composition."

Wondir curtseys gracefully.

Isune, the Aesthete smiles and says to Wondir, "May your works claim prestigious

accolades in the years to come, little one."

Wondir beams broadly at Isune.

Nelras gets up off an opera bench of elaborately engraved marble.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science smiles and says to Isune,

"Thank You, Lady! I am so glad that You are pleased."

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird says to Wondir, "Though I am certain it pales in comparison to the Lady's approval, you have pleased this Master Artist very much. A wonderful display of imagination, choreography and colour."

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird beams broadly at Wondir.

Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says to Wondir, "Well worth waiting for, thank you for a most excellent performance."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science smiles and says, "To Mellia The Lady herself has told me that beauty resides everywhere, and so it is ever pleasing when finds it in my work."

You smile and say, "Thank you for that wonderful performance, Junior Fellow Wondir. A marvellous start to this ball."

Volucer begins to follow Isune.

The diamonds in Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird's headfeathers glitter as she nods her head in understanding.

Volucer exclaims, "Don't leave me behind again!"

You say, "If everyone does not mind shuffling about once more, let us all return to the ballroom to begin the celebration proper."

Isune chuckles softly, a chiming feminine sound.

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird begins to follow Irillia.

Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer says to Wondir, "I too am quite impressed by your talents and skill. May you continue to compose great works of art."

Wondir curtseys gracefully before Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer, "I thank you!"

Aramel falls into line behind you, gathering up the colourful train of her gown.

Wondir curtseys gracefully before Nelras.

Wondir turns to follow Irillia, one hand holding her skirts and the other her hat.

Irillia · January 2017

Costume Drama and Artistic Differences

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says to Shedrin, "I was worried you'd run off for a moment there."

"Heh heh heh" Wondir chuckles.

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "A moment, perhaps."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper laughingly says, "I meant that I was worried for only a moment, but I suppose you did run off briefly, didn't you."

Nelras quickly adjusts his mask so that it rests better on his face.

Ruffling his feathers in agitation, Volucer tries pecking and prying the red bow tie off.

With a hint of amusement, Wildeflower Aramel Shevat says, "Every dancer has the same worry."

You say to Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep, "Please start the event, Grand Hallifaxian Collectivist Ball."

Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep says, "Wonderful! Please let me know when you wish to end the event." To conclude, say EXACTLY this]: Today's event is concluded.

You may also [TURN] the orchestra to change our musical repertoire!

A palpable feeling of anticipation fills the room as the harsh rapping of a conductor's baton echoes across the ballroom. After a brief silence, the sounds of the State Symphony Orchestra swell to a great crescendo to signal the beginning of Grand Hallifaxian Collectivist Ball.

Pillars of pure white light shoot skyward from the crystal spires of the city as music resounds within the Grand Collectivist Ballroom.

The light of the chandelier overhead fluctuates slightly as it shakes a bit, its light becoming somewhat brighter as it comes to rest.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says to Volucer, "Your decoy seems to have worked."

Oberst Rendon says to Maligorn, "Clever, truly."

Maligorn gives a plush doll of Volucer to Oberst Rendon.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says to Volucer, "You just wait."

Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says to Volucer, "Now, you must just make sure that everyone has one."

You have emoted: Irillia glances momentarily toward the chandelier, her brows drawing together with anxiety, before taking a deep breath and smoothing the front of her gown.

Daraius eyes the chandelier with a somewhat wary expression, stepping conspicuously towards the edge

of the ballroom.

Volucer says, "I am the most clever bird, didn't you know??"

Volucer preens at his feathers smartly.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Yes, of course."

Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer Running her gaze slowly over the attending crowd, Linira Cloudwalker gives the faintest of smiles or the smallest nod of approval as she studies their costumes.

Spotting the concern over the chandelier, a classic trill musician quickly brings his violin to his chin and begins a gentle waltz that is quickly picked up by the other musicians.

Smiling gently, you say to Isune, "Now, my Lady, I believe that You had something in thanks for Junior Fellow Wondir's performance?"

Wondir jumps back in surprise.

Nelras briefly nods his head in approval when he sees what the musician is doing.

A classic trill musician brings up his trumpet and adds his own sound to the harmonies.

Somewhat confused, Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science asks, "What more thanks is there but to perform for the Divine?"

Isune, the Aesthete says, "Well, not solely for Wondir, but along the lines ofr a performance, perhaps."

A number of eyes turn towards Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia as she makes a striking entrance into the ballroom, her posture as proud as ever and her gaze showing its fully hawkish nature.

Coughing and covering Her mouth gently, Isune, the Aesthete says, "For, too. Oh my."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Oh, my."

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird opens her mouth as if to say something, but pauses.

"Lady Isune. Comrades. Good evening," Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia announces primly, taking the moment to absorb the scene before her. Something seems to catch her eye, for she strides forth at once, her magnolia train gliding behind her. "Lady Windwhisper."

Isune's eyes sparkle with amusement at Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia.

Folding her wings so she can reach them easily, Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia preens her wings happily, straightening out the disheveled feathers.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper asks, "Fashionably late, Lady Silverplume?"

Aramel beams broadly at Falmiis.

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat whispers, "Not as fashionably late as some."

Though at first it is unclear which Windwhisper the Steel Magnolia is addressing, the small cough from Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird gives the answer away. And as the two trill come to stand before one another, the reason is all too evident.

For Lady Windwhisper is dressed, headfeathers to slippers, in entirely the same clothing as Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia - who pauses, staring blankly at her nervously smiling counterpart.

Phoebus hides a grin behind her hand.

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird says, "Ah...Lady Silverplume. What a pleasure to see you here - I had thought that perhaps you were not attending."

With a single raised eyebrow, Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia says, "Evidently."

ex miella

Tall and particularly slender in figure, Miella arranges herself with a proud posture and an air of studied elegance. Her finely-etched features are lightly accented with touches of colour: cerulean blue graces her lips, and ivory powder is dusted over her eyelids. Magnificent magnolia robes envelop her form, perfectly arranged and lavishly decorated. A heavy silver necklace and matching coronet-like tiara rest within her silvery-grey headfeathers, their brilliantly cut diamonds glittering in any direct light, and form the most notable aspect of her carefully crafted costume.

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird appears to be extraordinarily strong.

ex shalmae

This trill is fairly short in stature, but with the posture of a queen; her proud, hawkish features carry an expression of alertness and determination, without a trace of self-doubt or uncertainty. She may be slight in figure, but there is no hint of delicacy about her. She is well-groomed: her iron-grey feathers are elaborately coiffed, her magnolia-coloured robes perfectly arranged and lavishly decorated. She wears a heavy silver necklace and a matching tiara, almost like a coronet in shape; both are adorned with exquisitely cut diamonds, obviously set by a master jeweller. Her grey-feathered wings are dusted with dark silver plumage, barely discernible until caught in direct light.

Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia appears to be extraordinarily strong.

Isune smiles politely behind a hand covering Her own mouth in turn.

Lady Sylandra Shevat, the Winter Sonata murmurs, "Someone's tailor is losing a high profile client."

In a hushed tone and mostly to herself, Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer says, "Awkward."

Brightly, Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Oh, what lovely costumes, you've dressed as each other! Now we really cannot tell who is who! What a fabulous idea, you two."

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird folds her hands together before her, making a pointed attempt not to fiddle with the folds of her magnolia gown. "I see there is a new standard for fashionably late," she replies brightly, forcing her face into a broad smile.

Inexorably slowly, Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia turns her attention towards Phoebus with a narrow-eyed glance.

Idly amused with a grin in Shalmae's direction, Isune, the Aesthete says, "Aye, seems the dear wished to be even more fashionable than Me. How quaint."

With an appeasing smile, Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Leave it to our fine Master Artists to have an idea us mere citizens did not."

6300h, 8300m, 8300e, 10p ex-18:53:01.485

Daraius politely averts his gaze from the unfolding scene, occupying his attention instead with the elaborate ceiling frescoes.

Volucer flaps and shuffles over to Irillia and whispers too loudly, "I don't get it!"

Phoebus flashes Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia a joyous smile.

Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia brushes one hand subconsciously along her collar bone, a distant look upon her face.

Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia says to Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird, "I had thought the rumours about your lack of etiquette were false, Lady Windwhisper. It was not all that long ago that we were regaled with tales of your affair with a..." She pauses, wrinkling her nose up in disdain. "...dwarven wrestler. And now, this. Such a pity.""

Phoebus leans over to Volucer and whispers, "Have you ever attempted to disarm a weapon of mass destruction?"

Sylandra feigns similar interest in the artistry overhead as she joins Daraius in his corner of the ballroom.

Volucer tilts his head in Phoebus' direction and ponders, then shakes his head with alarm, "Is Shalmae a weapon of mass destruction??"

Nelras averts his gaze, deciding it would be better to take an interest in the available refreshments.

Wondir snorts into her teacup, quickly retrieving a handkerchief from her satchel and dabbing away all evidence.

Rising to the beat of a thumping bass, a lively percussion carries the minuet with a whirlwind of quick, upbeat notes that never once break meter.

"Oh me, oh my," Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird gushes, shaking her bejewelled head. "Lady Silverplume, I had not realised that you had developed such a skill for storytelling. What a wonderful thing, to be able to take up a new skill in one's twilight years."

Chairman Luce Shevat whispers to Volucer, "The wrath of a Master Artist scorned. One would believe so."

Maligorn covers his mouth, eyes shining as the tension builds.

You have emoted: Irillia occupies herself with the contents of a porcelain tea cup embellished with golden feathers, pausing only to murmur over to Volucer, "I am not sure that I understand it either, but it is probably something better not to get in the middle of, that is for sure."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper sighs, "Well, I did make an attempt. No one else was trying anything."

Aramel looks briefly aside, folding her arms briefly, though a wry smile plays about her face.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says to Volucer, "You should suggest that they dance to resolve their issue."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "They would never recover from the sheer amount of "accidental" foot stepping that would occur..."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "A dance is not the proper solution."

In a subdued tone, Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science asks Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep, "A peaceful Waltz, perhaps?"

Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia narrows her eyes. "Indeed," replies primly. She assesses the room around her, taking in the rapt attention of many of the onlookers - and the pointed inattention of the others. A small smile curls her lips. "Why, a dance is an excellent idea, Force Commander. Is this not a ball, a celebration?"

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Oh, no. The Lady that prevails will not have to change her costume."

Maligorn nods his head sagely.

Volucer says, "Oh! Yes! A dance."

You have emoted: Irillia takes a deep breath and steps forward, opening her mouth. At Shalmae's

words, however, she frowns and steps back, closing her mouth abruptly.

Volucer flies overhead of Miella and calls out, "Want to dance?"

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird hides a grin behind her hand.

Quietly as not to be noticed unduly, Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says, "Archmage, a quick word if I might."

Chairman Luce Shevat asks, "A moment. Was the event not meant for each of us to choose a costume relating to a person, real or fictional, that we admire..?"

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird says to Volucer, "It would be terribly rude to insist upon dancing without the hostess's permission."

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "I wasn't able to find a costume myself due to time constraints, but..."

You say, "Indeed, Chairman, that was the intent. However, if our guests will be amenable to dancing, then let us begin."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Well, you try doing that with the options there are for clothing!"

Volucer lands beside Miella and preens proudly, "First dance with the pretty lady."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Despite my limited options in clothing, I was able to scrounge together something. If someone like myself, can..."

You say, "However, with our illustrious guests' permission, I would like to request that all those who would like to display their costumes to step forward and announce what, or whom, they came as, before displaying their costumes."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science asks Rendon, "Are you knowledgeable of the

Waltz?"

Linira Cloudwalker, the Carnelian Dreamer looks back and forth between the two ladies, idly adjusting her garb as she does so.

Rendon crosses his arms as his eyes flicker between the two, but then looks upon Wondir.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "I won't be dancing, but everyone else, do enjoy."

Oberst Rendon says to Wondir, "Knowledgeable enough not to step on your feet, I do believe."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to Rendon, "Very good. A moment..."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science asks you, "Are we doing the contest now, or dancing?"

Luce shrugs and takes a pointed step back from the dance floor with his palms raised upward.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper looks skeptical and says, "...contest?"

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat laughingly says, "I didn't realize we were supposed to come -as- someone."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says to Aramel, "I honestly didn't hear anything about that from anyone

seeking a costume from me, either."

Oberst Rendon says, "A.. contest. I never meant that professional, however - is there still time to retract my foot-stepping guarantee?"

Her feathers gently fluttering as she turns, Sylandra watches as the Symphonists perform their waltz. As if without intention, her wings slowly begin to follow the meter of the dance in their sway.

Taking a long, deep breath, you say, "When I initially announced this ball, I did indeed announce that there would be a costume contest, wherein participants may display their costumes and all guests may vote for their favourite costume."

You say, "I am very sorry to hear that some of you may have had difficulty contriving a costume at such short notice."

His voiced laced with a chuckling growl, Daraius Shevat says, "I was aware of the prompt, admittedly, but my costume would not have been appropriate for this venue."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "I put together -a- costume, but it's not -as- someone."

You say, "Or realising that the event was intended to be a costume ball, for that matter."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Well, it's a snow phoenix thing, but that's not really a person..."

Sylandra tugs at her elbow-length gloves of mist-blue satin and icy diamond slightly as you speaks, coolly regarding the wardrobe of those gathered with interest.

You say, "However, all those who did put together a costume, I would very much like to hear from you and see what your efforts were able to contrive."

You say to Phoebus, "That would certainly count. I did not mean to say "as someone" as meaning as a

particular person."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "And general costumed folk have come as "fashionable citizens of the Collective"."

Miella Windwhisper, the Cerulean Skybird hides a grin behind her hand.

You smile and say to Wondir, "Please do step forward and tell us all what your costume is, Junior

Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia lifts a dainty hand to her neckline, glancing about with uncertain disdain.

Wondir steps forward confidence, "my performace was an aspect of my costume, as presence is an important aspect of appearance. I have come as the Dawn, which one might say," glancing quickly at the Lady in question, "is to come as a creation of Lady Isune."

ex wondir

She is an ordinary human and stands at a diminutive 5' 3". Her face is heavily tanned, a strong contrast to it's slate grey eyes but pulled together in all of the smiling corners. Wound in a fastidiously tight braid that reaches well to the small of her back, sapphire threads have been wound through her hair to shimmer and gleam at any given source of light. She is neither willowy nor stout, although her shoulders are a bit broad and her arms lean more towards a wiry build. Her voice is low and gravelly, but takes on resonant, high-soprano notes when applied to song. She is wearing a wolf-eared sapphire ring, a wispy ring of windswept sapphire, 2 howling rings of the raging tempest, a thin ruby band, a sixteen-tailed frost lyrebird cloak, long gloves of skybloom-lavender silk, a sheer, silvery silken scarf, a pair of silver ankle boots, a high-necked gown of iridescent dawn-silver samite and a feathered hat of iridescent dawn-silver samite.

Wondir proudly shows off a high-necked gown of iridescent dawn-silver samite:

Tailored to accentuate and flatter a slender figure, this floor-lengthgown is elegantly crafted from the heavy, fine silk known as samite,rendered in the luminous argent hue of the dusky morning sky turned to pearlescent silver by the coming of dawn. Graced with a paleiridescence, the samite shimmers exquisitely with the barest movementwhen worn, evoking the play of light across rippling waters. The gown'sfeminine, form-fitting cut favours sleek simplicity over lavishostentation, sheathing the body's curves in a severe, ostensibly modestfashion that leaves everything to the imagination. A high, stiff mandarin collar demurely encircles the neck, with a rounded keyholeopening below the middle of the collar secured by an ornately woven silkknot at the throat, while dainty cap sleeves provide a charming accent.From there, the gown descends in an uninterrupted flow of silverysamite, narrowing through the waist and hugging the hips before droppingto the ground in straight folds. A high slit reaching to the hips oneither side of the skirt allows for comfortable movement and revealsglimpses of the gown's creamy satin lining when worn. Interspersed allover the entire gown are delicate skyblooms embroidered in silvermetallic thread, repeating and intertwining in a subtle, intricatepattern. A graceful aerial is stitched in pure, lustrous white acrossthe front of the skirt, with two twilight-blue sapphires representing the bird's eyes. Standing out clearly against its silvery backdrop, the aerial's lissome body and curving neck are detailed with elaborately curlicued feathers, and its magnificent snow-white wings are spread as if about to soar through the air.

Isune favours Wondir with a warm smile of encouragement.

Wondir proudly shows off a feathered hat of iridescent dawn-silver samite:

Constructed upon a lightweight wooden frame, this unusual hat isfashioned into a dainty, utterly flat disc covered with heavy, finesamite rendered an iridescent silvery hue, like the argent morning sky illuminated by dawn's rising. Barely wider than the circumference of the head when donned, the hat is kept in place with a small silver comb at the back. A sweeping array of immaculate cloud-white feathers blossoms outward from an enormous, eye-catching skybloom of shimmering silver gossamer pinned toward the back of the hat, the plumes and petals both fluttering airily with every passing breeze. Nestled within the centre of the skybloom, a single sapphire twinkles like a twilight-blue eye amid the layers of diaphanous gossamer. When donned at a jaunty angle, this striking feathered hat makes a bold yet charming accent to an elegant ensemble.

You have emoted: Irillia's eyes brighten as she studies Wondir's gown and hat with unabashed approval.

Ruffling his feathers in agitation, Volucer tries pecking and prying the red bow tie off.

Luce conjures a small breeze about himself and then quietly takes a seat in midair, his tail draped over his lap and his elbows on his knees. His ears perk forward with rapt attention.

You say, "Very nice, Junior Fellow."

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says to Phoebus, "Define my costume, spousal entity."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says to Shedrin, "I've dressed you in clothing."

You laughingly say, "Ah, I suppose that answers my question of, Who would like to go next?"

You say, "Please step forward, Commissar, and show us your costume."

Oberst Rendon says, "Clothing is good - oftentimes better than the alternative."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "You had absolutely zero preferences or input so I made you respectable clothes for a respectable event."

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "Citizens, such is my costume."

Lady Sylandra Shevat, the Winter Sonata says, "He is the Onyx Generator, perhaps."

The Mountain Wars erupt as the two halves of the splintered dwarven kingdom rise up against each other, while the undead masters of Angkrag turn their cold eyes greedily upon the chaos.

Irillia · January 2017

A Few Rounds of Haiku

The Grand Collectivist Ballroom.

Banks of clouds roil about here. Painted clouds drift across the top of a small table. Wispy white light billows from a frosted glass chandelier overhead. A conversational couch sheathed in sky-blue silk graces the room with its sinuous, crescentic curves. Seated in the orchestra pit of the ballroom, the various Symphonists of the State Symphony Orchestra remain poised to perform, awaiting instruction. Before the entirety of the orchestra, Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep holds aloft a diamond baton whilst studying the sheet of music at his podium with intense scrutiny. There are 10 porcelain tea cups embellished with golden feathers here. There are 11 dainty vanilla and strawberry- buttercream tea cakes here. There are 11 petite cinnamon and brown sugar tea cakes here. There are 12 plump pigeon pies here. There are 12 resplendent thunderbird cookies atop a sugary nimbus here. There are 14 generous goblets of beaded ice cream here. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. Gazing at his surroundings with interest, a classic trill musician loiters here. A classic trill musician walks about briskly, trumpet in hand. A classic trill musician walks about briskly, flute in hand. A classic trill musician walks about briskly, lyre in hand. A classic trill musician walks about briskly, lute in hand. An enormous falcon nervously talons the ground, wings mantling. A classic trill musician walks about briskly, harp in hand.

You see a single exit leading northwest.

Brightly, a classic trill musician exclaims, "Artistic expression!"

You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

You say, "Oh, dear. Am I interrupting something, perhaps?"

p musician

Snappily dressed in a white tuxedo, this silver-feathered trill stands with the proud height of his race and the gentle grace of his artistry. His wings, magnificent and well-preened, unfurl behind him in a gilded display of storm-grey hue. Smart crystal cuffs adorn his sleeves, shaped like miniature skyblooms to complement the flower in his buttonhole. So too do his wide, blue eyes match the cool sapphire shade of his dress shirt, which tolerates neither wrinkle nor stain in its prim tidiness. A lovely violin case sits snugly under the musician's arm, lonely without its instrument.

A classic trill musician seems strong and confident.

A classic trill musician chuckles long and heartily.

A classic trill musician coughs suddenly, glancing warily at her fellow musician as she embraces her harp close to her chest.

With a blush, a classic trill musician says, "Begging your pardon, Archmage."

A classic trill musician says, "Your pardon, Archmage. We are not used to our audience making so abrupt an exit."

You say, "Ah, yes. I do apologise for how abruptly we had to depart. I hope that everyone will be making their returns soon."

A classic trill musician hides his lute behind his back and bows deeply.

A classic trill musician waves his hand dismissively.

You smile and say, "Unfortunately, it seems that the mountain villages do not have a fine sense of timing when it comes to coordinating with city celebrations."

A classic trill musician says, "It is terrible luck. You have my sympathies; it is an unnecessary strain upon a hostess's already hefty burden."

You say, "Ah, thank you very much. I do think that my fellow citizens' work should be finished now."

You smile and say, "Until then, I am glad to hear that you have all kept yourselves occupied and cheerful in the meantime."

A classic trill musician coughs softly.

A classic trill musician quietly resumes his seat and starts polishing his lute, plucking a string every now and then to listen to its sound.

You say, "Oh, hmm, maybe they are not yet done with their labours. My goodness."

<Luce, Daraius, and Nelras slowly filter in>

Reassuming his position seated in mid-air, Chairman Luce Shevat says, "Well. That was exciting."

You say, "Greetings, Chairman. You will forgive me for not taking part in the conflict in Angkrag, I hope."

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "If you'll forgive me."

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "The undead are considerably much less useful to our aims."

A classic trill musician quietly hums the Crescendo as he works on his instrument.

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "I should likely offer these corpses, actually. I'll return in a moment."

You laughingly say, "As I was just saying to these kind musicians, it does seem as though the mountain villages have a terrible sense of timing when it comes to coordinating with social events."

A classic trill musician pales at the mention of corpses and he looks up to glimpse the departing

Chairman.

A classic trill musician says, "Corpses?"

Smiling warmly, you say to Daraius, "Ah, dear Father, welcome back. I must say that your presence here this month has been an unexpected delight."

A classic trill musician turns to his peers and mouths the word 'corpses', his face ashen.

A classic trill musician rolls his eyes.

A low, contented growl arises within Daraius's chest.

Waving a paw offhandedly, Chairman Luce Shevat says, "A gravedigger thought to make a snack of someone and lost out, and that person ran afoul of a scuffle in the Undervault with which we were assisting."

Daraius Shevat says to you, "As I mentioned, I'm very pleased I had the opportunity to attend. I have oft regretted the times I've been unable to support you and your work for the Collective."

Nelras quickly walks over to the assembled musicians and explains, perhaps in a slightly louder voice than necessary, that no-one will be bringing corpses into the Ballroom.

You smile impishly and say to Daraius, "Well, your presence is always a coup for any hostess, so I am more than happy to claim this victory for this occasion."

Iridescent motes alight from the aether, converging in brilliance until revealing the lustrous form of Isune at the heart.

"Perhaps a gentle fugue, to entertain the returning guests," a classic trill musician says, turning to the gathered musicians and lifting his bow. "A-one, two, three..."

Arriving with a curious survey of the Ballroom, Isune, the Aesthete says, "Ah, some have returned. How fared the Collective this round of revolts?"

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "Two villages claimed and reclaimed, and one for our allies."

Rising music made of criss-crossing refrains begins to sound through the ballroom as the musicians strike up a set of variations on the traditional midnight minuet.

Having finished speaking with the musicians, Nelras returns to the growing crowd, pausing to bow politely before Isune.

You smile and say, "I am sure that Your presence inspired us to perform as efficiently as we did, my Lady."

Teasingly, you say to Volucer, "Not to mention the sight of you in your bow tie. That would inspire anyone, I'm sure."

Luce gazes southeastward, his ears swiveling. "It seems we are still assisting in some capacity in Angkrag as well."

Chuckling softly in a demure tone, Isune, the Aesthete says, "I will accept any and all 'blame' for inspiration in efficiency, if it means returning to a more Aesthetically enjoyable event."

Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn whispers to Volucer, "We all have to wear costumes, no matter how many...fashionable members of the collective...there are here."

Nelras quickly raises his hand to his mask as if adjusting it.

Volucer remembers his bow tie with a wailing and pathetic flapping of wings as he pecks at it some more.

Shuffling uncomfortably in his boots, Daraius Shevat says, "I've made myself decidedly less fashionable for the sake of sportsmanship."

Daraius Shevat says, "I am aiming to win at least a participation ribbon."

Chairman Luce Shevat says to Daraius, "It's only fair, great-grandfather."

You smile and say to Luce, "Well, this month the fashion is to be costumed, so you are quite in fashion, I would say."

You say, "Oh, dear. I meant to direct that to Marquis Shevat, not you, Chairman."

You frown and say, "All that rushing about from village to village must have disoriented me more than I thought. ."

You take a drink of white tea from a porcelain tea cup embellished with golden feathers.

As you sip the white tea, your thoughts become clearer.

You take a sip of freshly-brewed white tea, the floral fragrance oforange blossom delicately underscoring the sweet tastes of citrus,pomegranate, and grapefruit. The steaming, herbal liquid imparts thejewel-like vibrancy of ripe oranges and bright sunflowers as it washesover your palate, infused with revitalising floral and fruit essences.Even after you swallow the gold-tinged tea, the bright flavours linger on your tongue for several moments more.

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "I had assumed so. The only 'guise I could claim to be wearing is that of myself."

Daraius Shevat says to Luce, "I have my standard attire onhand if you'd like to masquerade as me."

A classic trill musician sways his head in time with the midnight minuet as he plays his instrument. He looks up as his peer dazzles with their violin, a smile on his face as the note dominates the room.

You say, "In that same vein, I had been thinking to offer my costume of a Faethorn sprite to any lady who lacked a costume, but I did not hear of anyone's difficulties until the ball itself."

Rising to the beat of a thumping bass, a lively percussion carries the minuet with a whirlwind of quick, upbeat notes that never once break meter.

The muffled sound of music echoes throughout the city, carried from the Grand Collectivist Ballroom on gentle winds.

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "Can't fault them for pluck, at least."

Luce shakes his head.

Chairman Luce Shevat says to Daraius, "I'm not certain your standard attire would fit someone of my stature, but thank you for the offer."

Attentive to the distance a moment before speaking, Isune, the Aesthete says, "Seems everyone is quite enjoying the frenzy in Angkrag."

You have emoted: Irillia discreetly removes a mirror from a pocket of her pack and takes a moment to touch up the powdered alabaster over her face and the eyeshadow around her eyes.

Nodding to Luce, Daraius Shevat says to Luce, "How about this?"

Daraius gives a gargantuan wolfman costume to Chairman Luce Shevat.

Ruffling his feathers in agitation, Volucer tries pecking and prying the red bow tie off.

Luce ponders the situation.

Luce slips into a gargantuan wolfman costume.

Daraius pauses for a second, a slight frown upon his face.

Smiling gracefully, Isune, the Aesthete says to Luce, "It does make you look larger and quite a bit more looming?"

Waving a hand graciously, Isune, the Aesthete says to you, "I do hope they return soon, sated. I did wish to provide a gift for the city."

Luce's ears perk up with a sudden interest.

Isune smiles with a touch of mischief, Her eyes twinkling with a secret.

You say to Isune, "Oh, yes! Perhaps if I remind everyone of that, they will make more haste to wrap up their conflict, if only out of curiosity."

Daraius Shevat says, "Ah, the Master Artists' one-act play was not part of the endowment?"

Chuckling softly, Isune winks at you with a knowing smile.

(Hallifax): You say, "Whenever you are all finished assisting our allies in Angkrag, I hope many of you will see fit to return to the city afterward, to properly receive the gift that Lady Isune wished to bestow

upon the city."

Isune, the Aesthete says to Daraius, "Master Shevat, if I could incite and stir such excitement and rumour-worthy rousing, do you think I would solely be of the Fourth Circle?"

Isune chuckles softly, a chiming feminine sound.

A grave growl of acknowledgement escapes Daraius's muzzle, and he concedes the point with a dip of his muzzle.

You say, "That was certainly more drama than I had been expecting at this ball."

Isune, the Aesthete says to you, "I imagine it has been much anticipated. You have done so very well."

You smile and say to Isune, "Thank You for Your kind words, my Lady. I do think Your presence is much more of an incitement to excitement for everyone attending, though."

You smile and say, "Given Lady Isune's known fondness for haiku, would anyone object to having a small haiku game here to occupy our time while we wait?"

Her interest renewed, Isune, the Aesthete says, "I would adore some new Haikus."

Daraius indicates his willingness with an upturned paw and a brief nod.

Luce nods his head emphatically.

You have emoted: Irillia smiles warmly at Isune and then looks at the few citizens assembled. "Would anyone else be interested in playing?"

Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says, "I cannot guarantee anything more than interest, but why not."

A mildly discontented growl rumbles in Daraius's chest as he makes a number small of adjustments to his coat and trousers.

Daraius swivels his ears towards you, listening with rapt attention.

You have emoted: Irillia asks, "My Lady, would You like to participate as well? Or Volucer?" she adds laughingly, turning to the falcon. "I know you have at least a touch of poetry in your soul, surely."

Flapping his wings proudly, Volucer says, "Yes! I will play."

You say, "All right. Then I will choose a topic, and then everyone who is playing may recite their haiku. Then we will all vote for which haiku we liked best."

You say, "Then the winner may select the next topic."

Isune, the Aesthete smiles and says, "I may offer something, but allow Me to enjoy your works while I ponder."

You say, "I look forward to it, my Lady."

A subtle sparkle in his eyes, Daraius Shevat says, "I will see if I can compose in character."

You say, "Until then, I will offer up the subject of... Music."

You say, "Hmmm. Oh. You may have three minutes starting now."

You laughingly say, "In addition to the intervening time since I announced the subject."

Daraius raises one clawed finger. "I am ready," he states mildly.

Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says, "As am I."

Luce nods his head emphatically.

Volucer exclaims, "Me too me too!"

You say to Daraius, "Then please recite your haiku, Marquis Shevat."

Several lutists entice the party-goers to dance, their delicate, rapid playing augmenting the main theme with a bright vivacity and velocity.

The muffled sound of music echoes throughout the city, carried from the Grand Collectivist Ballroom on gentle winds.

Theatrically stroking the grey fur of his chin, Daraius recites, "Hunters awaken, to falcon's call at daybreak. Mountaintop music."

You say, "Oh, that is very pretty! A most evocative poem."

You say, "Opus, please share your haiku."

Daraius nods humbly, then crouches down on his haunches and discreetly adjusts his boots as his ears swivel attentively towards Nelras.

Pausing to clear his throat before speaking, Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn recites, "Notes come together, As with our grand collective. A true symphony."

You say, "Ah, well done!"

You say, "Chairman, what of your haiku?"

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "I apologise in advance for this."

Daraius's notched ears fall back against his head.

In a voice like a distressed cat, Chairman Luce Shevat sings, "Mysterious notes. I cannot seem to find you. Forever off-key."

Daraius's lips turn up in a semblance of a grin.

You have emoted: Irillia arches her eyebrow in mild consternation, before murmuring, "An...interesting delivery, Chairman."

Blushing, a classic trill musician says, "I should like to offer one of my own after Volucer."

You say, "Ah, how interesting! Then Volucer, please recite your haiku."

Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says, "Of course, we would be glad to hear it."

Daraius swivels one ear each towards Volucer and a classic trill musician.

Volucer flaps his wings excitedly, then calms before reciting very smartly, "I like music yeah! It is very beautiful. But not pigeon songs."

A classic trill musician nods solemnly.

Daraius Shevat says to a classic trill musician, "That is the act you must follow, comrade."

Quietly, a classic trill musician says, "Behold the swan song - sung but once, sung perfectly."

Quietly, a classic trill musician says, "Silenced forever."

You have emoted: Irillia draws in a soft breath of appreciation, her eyes slowly widening.

Nelras simply nods his head in acknowledgement of the last line.

A contemplative growl rumbles softly in Daraius's chest, his tail falling still for a moment.

You smile and say, "Two remarkable entries. Thank you both."

Politely speaking up, Isune, the Aesthete says, "I have conjured somewhat, to be recited upon a request or condition."

Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says to Isune, "And what would that condition be, Lady Isune?"

Nodding, Isune, the Aesthete says, "I would have none of My own entered to your voting. Simply to be heard by such as yourselves."

Daraius acknowledges Wondir and Ileein with a welcoming nod.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science asks, "Am I too late?"

You say, "I have no objections to that, Lady Isune. Ah, welcome, Junior Fellow, Professor."

Ileein inclines his head in acknowledgement of those present, his headspikes sending splintered fractals of light dancing a bout his surroundings.

You say, "I am afraid you are too late for the first round of the game, but you are welcome to watch and participate in any subsequent rounds."

Chairman Luce Shevat says to Wondir, "We are having a small haiku contest. I'll spare you my latest entry."

Smiling with eyes soft with memories, Isune, the Aesthete says, "Paint Me a song's hue..."

With a curious, questioning soft tone, Isune, the Aesthete says, "From its heart and soul can you?"

Breathing in deeply and looking towards the horizon, Isune, the Aesthete says, "At Dawn, My song

sings."

Brightly, a classic trill musician says, "Hue are skilled in haikus, Lady Goddess."

A classic trill musician congratulates Isune with some wild clapping.

Whispering softly, Nelras Says "Absolutely beautiful." It is several seconds later that he adds "As expected, Lady Isune".

Gravely, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Well constructed, Lady Aesthete."

A classic trill musician stops abruptly, blushing as he recalls present company.

Taking a deep breath, you say, "Well, I believe that is everyone. Now, everyone who participated

each has a single vote, which you may use to tell me which of the haiku was your favourite."

A classic trill musician bows his head in contrition.

Blissfully sweet, a harpist's silver and golden tones lend themselves to the orchestra, infusing the

minuet with vibrancy and colour.

You have emoted: Irillia glances expectantly first at Nelras and then at Luce, raising an eyebrow.

Turning to a classic trill musician, Daraius says, "I didn't catch your name, comrade."

First to Daraius and then to the musician, Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says, "I find myself in the same situation."

A classic trill musician says, "Ah, they call me Rhiess."

Baring his teeth in a passable imitation of a smile, Daraius Shevat says, "A pleasure to meet you, Rhiess. Thank you for your contributions to the event, both musical and poetic."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to a classic trill musician, "Well met."

Softly, a classic trill musician says, "Thank you for the welcome, comrade."

Nelras quietly murmurs Rhiess' name under his breath, making sure to remember it.

You say, "Indeed, thank you, comrade Rhiess. From the votes I have received, you were the winner of the previous round of haikus!"

You say, "If you would like, please announce the next topic, and everyone who would like to participate in creating a haiku on that topic may speak up."

You say, "After we are all done with our haiku, we should share them and then, after the recitations, everyone should send in their votes to Rhiess...that is, if you do not mind."

You have emoted: Irillia pauses in her explanation and looks questioningly at a classic trill musician.

Applauding politely, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Fine work, comrade Rhiess, though I was not present to hear."

Nodding, Rhiess, a classic trill musician says, "Ah, in honour of the Lady Isune, I propose that we create haikus on the Dawn."

Luce nods appreciatively at the choice.

Nodding his head, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "A traditional choice."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician tells you, "Ah, Archmage - I am bad at timekeeping and organizing... contests..."

Shifting a curious sapphire, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Must we register our intent to submit a haiku? For I have one to present."

<Volucer, Nelras, Luce, and I all say we're done.>

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science smiles impishly and says, "I look forward to the

competition."

Nodding, Rhiess, a classic trill musician says, "Well, we shall all start then."

You say, "Junior Fellow, since you spoke up first, would you like to recite yours?"

Rising to the beat of a thumping bass, a lively percussion carries the minuet with a whirlwind of quick, upbeat notes that never once break meter.

Blushing slightly, Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "... A whisper of light."

Blushing slightly, Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "... Rays slip past horizon's yawn..."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician smiles softly at you.

Blushing slightly, Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "... An outstretched embrace..."

Several lutists entice the party-goers to dance, their delicate, rapid playing augmenting the main theme with a bright vivacity and velocity.

You smile and say, "Very poetic indeed, Junior Fellow."

You say, "Professor Ileein, would you care to go next?"

Taking one pace forward with a slight bow, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Certainly."

Isune smiles warmly at Wondir and summons a cloud divan to lounge upon while She enjoys the Art manifesting around Her.

His hue flushing to the alabaster of concentration, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "A slow flower blooms..."

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Red, then gold, upon the morn."

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Silence yields to song."

Wondir's eyes widen in disbelief as she softly exclaims, "Whoa."

Blissfully sweet, a harpist's silver and golden tones lend themselves to the orchestra, infusing the minuet with vibrancy and colour.

The muffled sound of music echoes throughout the city, carried from the Grand Collectivist Ballroom on gentle winds.

You say, "Well, now I am almost wishing to forfeit my turn. Good heavens, Uncle."

Ileein inclines his head and takes a step back, folding his hands within his robe.

Isune smiles at Xeii as she arrives to the festivities.

You say, "But I will go next with mine."

Waving a hand, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "I would never wish to skip your haiku, Archmage."

Xeii walks over to stand beside Nelras, looking at him with a question in her eyes. She belatedly notices the Goddess nearby and sweeps a deep curtsey towards Her.

Her gaze lowered self-effacingly, you say, "Pink clouds and gold light/ Painted by Divine sisters/ Bloom across the sky."

Volucer takes a deep breath, then says his haiku in a hurry with a comicaly flexing of his big, strong wings, "I like a dawn flight! It's oh so sunny and bright. I can show my might!"

Isune grins mischievously at Volucer.

Using his tongue and the roof of his mouth, Volucer makes a quiet clicking noise.

Xeii nods, a grin flashinclg across her features.

Daraius Shevat says, "Rhiess could set that to music and you're half way to a stage show."

With a slow bloom of beryl, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Rhyming is non-traditional, but clearly deliberate. Intriguing."

You say, "Finally, Opus, would you like to share your haiku?"

Quietly taking a step foward, Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says, "The first light of dawn, paints the

sky with memories. Fondly remembered."

You say, "Thank you, Opus. And my apologies, the Chairman should have a turn as well."

Luce thanks you profusely.

Carefully controlling his cadence, Chairman Luce Shevat says, "Sublime beginning. Inspiration flows like light. Spilled upon the mind."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "Very good."

You smile and say, "Ah, very lovely, Chairman."

With a flourish of his arm, Luce bows deeply.

You say, "Now, all those who participated...please tell me your vote for your favourite poem."

Nelras silently adjusts his mask while everyone is focusing on the Haiku being performed.

You say, "The winner shall select our next topic, and everyone is welcome to participate, again."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician says, "Ah, I have one but please don't count it."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician blushes furiously.

You say, "Oh, do please go ahead. All those who have votes, though, please continue telling them to me."

Smiling softly, Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says, "Please, go ahead."

Softly, Rhiess, a classic trill musician says, "Pale blush blooms from night: She paints the Dawn alone. Alone."

Quietly, Rhiess, a classic trill musician says, "Fair Sister sharded..."

Wondir smiles sadly at Rhiess, a classic trill musician, sympathy shining in her eyes.

Rhiess, a classic trill musician blushes furiously as he glances at the Lady Goddess.

Xeii lets her thoughts drift for a moment, eyes soft.

Nelras smiles sadly, lowering his gaze.

Quietly, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Poetic indeed. If technically contrary to form."

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Nonetheless, the sentiment is fine."

Isune smiles softly, Her eyes saddened at the rememberance, then places a hand to Her throat demurely brushing the cloak about Her.

You say, "The winner of the previous round is Professor Ileein!"

Pursing her lips, Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs to Isune, "Lady, have You tasted this tea? It is quite lovely."

You say to Wondir, "If you have enjoyed it, please do let Provost Zyphora know. It is one of her brews and my favourite tea."

Xeii glows a deeper amethyst with pride as she looks in the direction of Ileein.

Rhiess, a classic trill musician smiles and offers his congratulations.

With a flush of gold and a bowed head, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Ah, I am honoured. It devolves upon me to select the next round's theme, yes?"

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to you, "Of course! I may even write a review."

You say, "So it does, Professor."

Isune, the Aesthete whispers to Wondir, "Ah, not as yet. So much has happened since the beginning of this ball. Hrm now..."

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Ah, perhaps I should ask what the previous round's themes were, aside from the most recent."

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "That I may avoid repetition."

Addressing everyone here, Sublime Opus Nelras Ladyn says, "I am afraid I must really return to my rest now. I wish you all a good night."

You say, "Of course. The previous topics were music and dawn."

You say, "And fair winds, Opus. Thank you for attending."

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Aha. In that case, I shall select as our theme for this round: the Continuum."

Daraius's whiskers twitch abruptly.

Rhiess, a classic trill musician plucks a few bright notes on his lute, humming a quiet song to accompany the music.

The chandelier's light grows in intensity briefly before dimming to its previous, albeit abnormally bright, state of illumination.

<Kialkarkea, Aramel, and Zyphora arrive.>

Again affecting the air of a wizened hunter, Daraius Shevat says, "That is not a topic I can address in character, I think."

You say, "Ah, it seems that everyone is finally returning, and we have a few new attendees."

Professor Ileein Shevat says to Zyphora, "Good day, Provost. The current subject of our haiku competition is the Continuum, and you are in time to make an entry if you wish."

Sounding fatigued, Wildeflower Aramel Shevat says, "Apologies for that digression."

Cheeks mildly flushed from exertion, Provost Zyphora Windwhisper says, "Greetings, everyone. Ah, my Lady."

Thoughtfully, Rhiess, a classic trill musician says, "I have never visited the Continuum - music takes too much of my time."

Isune favours Zyphora with a bright smile.

You say, "Let us make this the last of the haiku rounds, if no one has any objections."

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat says, "Is there still to be dancing?"

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to Aramel, "I hope so!"

Pursing her lips contemplatively, Provost Zyphora Windwhisper says, "Continuum, you say..."

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat says, "Lovely, though I fear I must curl up for a moment if I am to be fleet on my feet in a while."

You say, "I hope there shall still be time and interest for both dancing and costumes, Lady Aramel. But we shall see."

Considering him thoughtfully, Chairman Luce Shevat says, "To musician116053 You should visit sometime, you might find it inspiring. Tea can be had there."

Luce looks up into the air for divine inspiration.

Smiling brightly, you say to Zyphora, "And ah, welcome, dear Zyphora. I did not expect you to attend this gathering either."

Wistfully, Rhiess, a classic trill musician says, "Tea would be a welcome change over kafe brews."

<Volucer, Wondir, Xeii, and I announce we finished our haiku.>

Flapping and flustering, Volucer exclaims, "I think I have my haiku too!"

You laughingly say, "I do believe this ball is a success based merely upon the number of illustrious guests who chose to favour us with their presence."

Provost Zyphora Windwhisper says to you, "Though the battle was lost, it was a valuable experience. I'm glad I was finally able to attend."

Amused, Primus Gero asks Volucer, "Steal anything interesting recently, my fine feathered avian?"

Volucer says to Gero, "Do fish and pigeons count?"

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Indeed. In that case, the avian comrade should begin, I believe."

Pondering aloud, Primus Gero says to Volucer, "Perhaps if they had diamond for scales and prismatic tails."

Grumping at the ridiculous idea, Volucer says to Gero, "Why would I want diamond fish? I can't eat that! Hmph."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician lazily draws his wings to and fro through the air, fanning them slowly.

Remembering he needed to say his haiku, Volucer says, "Oh! He distracted me."

Volucer clears his throat and recites, mimicking other's in how they did that, "It is very square, Over in Continuum, I get lost easy... ".

The chandelier's light grows in intensity briefly before dimming to its previous, albeit abnormally bright, state of illumination.

Primus Gero says to Volucer, "Trade the fish, for several others. I'm sure the Lady Isune would take that exchange."

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Ah, Junior Fellow Wondir, now, I believe."

Xeii smiles warmly at Wondir as she prepares to listen.

Wondir coughs to clear her throat our of nervous habit, "Precious gems of light..."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "Spheres circling 'round my head..."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "... and pow'ring our songs."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "I apologise for that interruption."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician congratulates Wondir with some wild clapping.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Insurrection from Rockholm and Ixthiaxa is uncommon, but we're put them back in line."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "We've."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "And uh, very nice."

You say, "Oh, may I also share mine, Professor? I believe I spoke up first, before Volucer."

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Ah, I must have missed it. Then yes, there will be further poems after the Aficionado's."

<Falmiis, Phoebus, Shedrin, and the snow phoenix arrive,>

Xeii steps forward, clearing her throat. Her contralto voice rings out in a low melody as she speaks, "Maze of crystal shards, lands of energy past glowed..."

Xeii finishes, "Empty yet alive."

Shedrin takes a deep breath as the crystal surface of his face softens and shifts in colour, a muted glow appearing within.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Are we doing haikus, again?"

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says to Wondir, "Touch not the sun fae, Sister, lest you be burned."

You say, "We were playing a haiku game to pass the time during your battle. We will be wrapping up afterward."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Oh! If we are, I need to think of one."

You say, "Err, I meant to say, we were planning to wrap up once you all returned."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Oh."

Luce sidles over to Rhiess and offers a cup of tea.

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "Hmm hmm."

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says to you, "Do share with us your poem, Twice-great Grandmother. I am curious."

Professor Ileein Shevat says to Xeii, "Well done, comrade."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician murmurs a word of thanks to the Chairman for the tea.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "But, I haven't been able to debut my hastily-made Elostian costume."

Speaking coolly and rapidly, you say, "A crystal rainbow, yet so hard to navigate this dead divine creche."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Continuum poems?"

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Indeed so, indeed so. Force Commander, I don't suppose that costume entails "not being present?""

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to Phoebus, "'twas the theme of the round,

Grand-Editor."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Grand...oh, I see."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Please just call me Emeritus."

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "Continuum Haiku. Haikontinuum, if you wil."

Provost Zyphora Windwhisper says to Ileein, "I have one as well."

Wondir nods her head at Phoebus.

Stewardess Vivet Pavok, Archon of Accord asks, "Oh wait, I'm supposed to be in costume, aren't I?"

Ileein considers the matter for a moment, mouth slightly open.

The corners of Zyphora's mouth turn up as she grins mischievously.

Professor Ileein Shevat says to Luce, "I shan't, but the opportunity is nonetheless appreciated, Chairman."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Crys, Jadice and Xyl -- they all hail from this gemmed place -

- Fortunate for us."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Yes, so good."

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "Oh, seems Great-grandfather's costume has returned to him."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician lazily draws his wings to and fro through the air, fanning them slowly.

Maligorn's ears perk up with a sudden interest.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "You mean Daraius? He has a costume?"

Clapping her hands briskly, you say, "And speaking of costumes..."

Aramel smiles as she raises her hand hopefully in the air.

You say, "Thank you all for returning to attend the ball once the last of the conflicts of the Mountain Wars died down."

Daraius Shevat says to Maligorn, "Naturally, the one I am wearing and the one I loaned to Luce."

Daraius swivels his ears towards you, listening with rapt attention.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat asks Daraius, "Are you an ice mammoth?"

Provost Zyphora Windwhisper says, "But of course."

Maligorn scratches his head in confusion.

Gravely, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Art is traditionally considered to be improved when it sprouts amidst strife."

You say, "If no one present has any objections, I would like to continue with the display and explanation of costumes."

The chandelier's light grows in intensity briefly before dimming to its previous, albeit abnormally bright, state of illumination.

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Ah, there remain a haiku or two to present, no?"

You say, "Ah. If there are, then anyone who would still like to recite their haiku may share them

now."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Hm."

Solemnly, Provost Zyphora Windwhisper says, "Polyhedrons drift, across countless jewelled petals, ever-unfolding."

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says to Zyphora, "Beautiful imagery, Provost."

Isune looks up from Her cloud divan at the chandeliers with a knitting of Her brows carefully.

You say, "Very lovely, Provost. I apologise for forgetting your entry!"

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Piles of precious gems -- they seem quite stuck to the floor! - For I can't grab them."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Oh, sorry. That is a second one."

Xeii's dark, rich voice blooms into peals of melodious laughter.

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat says to Maligorn, "A veritable magpie, I see."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "The first one is more serious."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Its duty is done, and now this great plane may rest. Balance in

silence."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says to Phoebus, "That one is quite profound."

Quietly, Rhiess, a classic trill musician says, "Crystal cradle spent: They've come and They've gone. Spheres hum their lament."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician blushes furiously.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Oho, I see. You enunciated they've as two syllables."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "Perhaps something more uplifting, now, as it is a celebration..."

Irillia · January 2017

Isune's Grand Announcement

Clearing Her throat for attention, Isune, the Aesthete says, "Hallifax."

<Reylari, Justinus, and Orventa arrive.>

Arising from her cloud divan and dismissing it Isune looks to the chandeliers with slight concern

then returns to addressing the gathering.

Isune, the Aesthete says, "I did promise a gift, but it seems your chandeliers arise to the occasion very well."

Isune begins to wield a crystalline paintbrush with light-woven hairs in Her left hand.

Primus Gero asks Isune, "Shall I remove the obstruction?"

Volucer preens through the feathers on one wing, carefully attending to them.

Isune, the Aesthete says, "Nay Primus, but do watch."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician politely steps to the side, safe from potential crystalline projectiles.

Wielding her paintbrush carefully, Isune draws the extraneous light from the chandelier, swirls of colour coming away with the brush like diaphonous ribbons.

Wondir gasps quietly, her eyes wide with wonder.

Xeii emulates the Goddess's motions subtly, eyes wide and focused.

Isune, the Aesthete says, "What shall we do with this extra light...? What was the shape most loved

by Dynara?"

Chairman Luce Shevat asks, "The star?"

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat murmurs, "Stars."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Stars!"

Isune smiles in a most pleased manner.

Isune makes several strokes of her brush, outlining a generally star-shape, and draws at the light

of the chandeliers as a painter at her palette.

Pedantically, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "Well. The bilateral quadriped, anyway."

Filling in generally humanoid details Isune takes meticulous care building up the multi-coloured tresses and translucent aspects of a lightweaving portrait in three dimensions.

Pondering the lightweaving as an artist scrutinizes their own work, Isune, the Aesthete says, "What do you think, friends?"

Wondir hums a happy and contented tone deep in her chest. "It's beautiful, Lady Isune!"

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Hmmh. All that remains is to name your artwork, Lady Isune."

Steadfast Dreamer, Orventa Trueflight says, in Elfen, "Star rising silver, precious moonlight reshaping, in the rolling mist."

Isune taps the tip end of the paintbrush to Her chin in thought.

Junior Fellow Justinus says, "Very effulgent."

Xeii flickers a deep emerald at the lightweaving, taking in every colour.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "I see...I see."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "I see Someone."

Isune, the Aesthete says, "Does anyone have a crystal, perhaps from the Continuum to embed within?"

Gero translates Orventa's words "Star rising silver, precious moonlight reshaping, in the rolling mist."

p lightweaving

This humanoid lightweaving is defined by light, his form scribed in shifting shades and fluid streams of dazzling colour: reds, blues, greens, even bright whites all course and churn across his skin in lambent pools. Long glowing strands fall from his head, emulating hair in a shifting silhouette down to the middle of his back, while his limbs haze off into blurs, edges diffused and impossible to define. Two orbs of solid light dominate his face, burning in an unblinking, pupilless stare to reflect and refract all he sees, casting the world back in prismatic glints of light and colour and motion.

It weighs 1 ounce(s).

It has the following aliases: feather, lightweaving.

Ileein gives a glowing diamond to Isune, the Aesthete.

Isune, the Aesthete says, "Ah, very good."

Zyphora flashes an appreciative smile at Orventa and Gero in turn before turning her attention to Isune.

Isune wields the diamond and opal gems carefully in Her opposite hand above the lightweaving, then slowly embeds them in to the humanoid masterpiece.

The chandelier above dims notably as a radiant mote of light falls from its centre. The mote wavers for a moment, swaying in the air, before falling into the crystal above the lightwoven body. As the mote passes through the crystal, its structure shines effulgently and emits an almost blinding beam squarely into the weaving.

You look on in astonishment as a prismatic, humanoid lightweaving fades away into the ether.

Comprehension flashes across Xeii's face.

Taking a step back to examine it more closely, Isune, the Aesthete says, "I shall name this work...

Thervet."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "...oh."

Thervet glances up at Isune with his unblinking eyes, vortices of blue and green light spiralling through his newfound body. In a fluid movement, the ephemeral floats up to an upright position and inclines his head respectfully toward the Goddess, then once more to those gathered.

Levelly, Professor Ileein Shevat says, "And so it is named."

"Ooohhhhhhhhhh," Rhiess, a classic trill musician says to Thervet.

Isune, the Aesthete says, "Ah, he is a bare little thing. Perhaps, offering an aesthetic title will

liven him up?"

ex thervet

He is a radiant immortal and is defined by light, his form scribed in shifting shades and fluid streams of dazzling colour: reds, blues, greens, even bright whites all course and churn across his skin in lambent pools. Long glowing strands fall from his head, emulating hair in a shifting silhouette down to the middle of his back, while his limbs haze off into blurs, edges diffused and impossible to define. Two orbs of solid light dominate his face, burning in an unblinking, pupilless stare to reflect and refract all he sees, casting the world back in prismatic glints of light and colour and motion. He is wearing robes of shifting incandescent light.

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "The Lightwoven?"

Isune, the Aesthete smiles and says, "Surely some of you wordsmiths might offer a suitable title for this new ephemeral being?"

Gravely, Professor Ileein Shevat says, ""The Effulgent?""

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Thervet, the Prismatic!"

Junior Fellow Justinus says, ""of Harmonic Refraction"."

Primus Gero asks, "The brushed?"

Simply, you say, "The Lightwoven?"

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says, "Or Lightborn?"

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "I do love the Lightwoven."

You say, "Ah, I missed that that was already suggested."

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat laughingly says, "It would seem that Lightwoven carries the day."

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "Illustrated Entity."

Primus Gero asks, "The Chroma?"

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Illustration of Illumination?"

Primus Gero says, "The Prism."

Isune, the Aesthete says, "Well then, by popular vote and agreed appreciation on My behalf. He shall be known as Thervet, the Lightwoven. Quite apropos."

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says, "The Light-touched Mist."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Yes, can He speak?"

Comprehension flashes across Xeii's face.

Vortices of blue and green light form upon Thervet's body, exploding into brilliant whites and yellows.

Isune, the Aesthete smiles and says to Thervet, "Yes, dear, do speak up."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "I do hope He can speak common, and not in spectra."

Thervet, the Lightwoven says, "The Lightwoven is a lovely title to bear."

Junior Fellow Justinus says, "Perhaps we need to contrive a light-to-speech...oh."

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says to Justinus, "An interesting concept."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Probably takes a bit of time to work out how to use one's mouth, freshly woven as it is."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says to Phoebus, "Clearly, He is very intelligent to have figured it out so quickly."

Zephyr Kialkarkea Letara says, "It is quite brilliant, really. It's good you've taken a shine to it."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Wouldn't want to speak too soon and only have it come out as "ahhhg" or something."

A masked illithoid says, "And with much excitement and people all around."

Thervet tilts his head as teal spirals coalesce upon his body, collapsing into themselves and fading.

Rhiess, a classic trill musician plucks the bright beginnings of a song in honour of the Lightwoven.

Thervet, the Lightwoven says, "'Ahhg' is an interesting noise. I quite enjoy it."

A masked illithoid looks thoughtful and says, "Hmm, can a Lightwoven drink tea, or at least enjoy its aroma?"

Isune ceases to wield a crystalline paintbrush with light-woven hairs in Her left hand.

Emulating the sound, Thervet, the Lightwoven says, "Ahhhhhhhg."

Nodding eagerly, Junior Fellow Justinus says, "Perhaps something that measures light waves and beams in their wavelengths and translates them. We could study various lucidian emotional responses and ....hm."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says to Phoebus, "Well done."

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat says to Phoebus, "Oh dear. He's impressionable."

You say to Isune, "A marvellous gift indeed that You have given to the Collective. Thank You, my Lady."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says to Maligorn, "He is happy. Is this not positive?"

Chairman Luce Shevat says to Thervet, "Welcome to the Beacon, Lightwoven Thervet."

You say to Thervet, "And welcome to the Collective, Lightwoven One."

Isune, the Aesthete says, "And a final gift for allowing Me to bask in Your collective creativity."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "My thanks, Lady Isune. It is unfortunate that the villages became unruly and disrupted this occasion."

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says to Isune, "Thank you for your favour and your creation, Lady."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says to Isune, "Thank you for gracing us with Your presence, dear Lady Isune."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science looks thoughtful and says, "The dance floor is

freshly illumined."

Isune smiles graciously and warmly upon the assembled, Her eyes just a touch more tired as She touches a hand to Her face gently.

Brightly, Rhiess, a classic trill musician says, "The dance floor is eager to be danced upon, I should think."

Making Her apologies, Isune, the Aesthete says, "Seems I need to take a rest, but do continue with the Costume Contest and Dancing. I shall like a report of any outstanding entries for either, of course."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs to Isune, "My Lady, do You require a healer to refresh You?"

Thervet, the Lightwoven says, "It is a wonderful floor to dance upon. It should be used for its purpose."

Isune, the Aesthete says to Thervet, "I leave you in good hands. They shall show you all you need know."

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico whispers to Aramel, "Will you lead on with Father?"

You say to Isune, "Fair winds, my Lady, and thank You again for your wonderful gift."

Isune, the Aesthete says to Wondir, "Do not worry, little one. Simply a rest shall do me wonders."

Volucer clips his beak together, making a quiet clicking sound.

Thervet nods to isune, his face momentarily glowing a bright green as he bows to the Goddess.

Snatching up a teacup with one hand and a slice of cake with the other, Justinus falls back behind the crowd and finds a seat on a nearby bench.

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat murmurs to Xeii, "Perhaps in good time. There is the costume competition

first, remember?"

Xeii nods, eyes twinkling.

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "Hmm hmm."

Wondir sweeps Xeii across the floor, dazzling Xeii with her footwork.

A cherubic smile comes over Wondir as she gazes around, wide-eyed and innocent.

The euphoria of a dozen violins sings out with barely contained passion, kept to rhythm with flawless precision rendered by the exquisite skill of the orchestra.

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says to Wondir, "Perhaps one a bit more stately."

Moving in graceful circles, Xeii dances a slow waltz with Wondir.

"Heh heh heh" Wondir chuckles.

Phoebus steps backwards and keeps her distance from the dance floor. "Husband, will you join me in actively avoiding the act of dancing?"

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says to Phoebus, "Very well."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science laughingly says to Xeii, "Since when is our friendship stately?"

Provost Zyphora Windwhisper says to you, "Was there a costume contest to be explained, Archmage?"

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says, "Stately dances are good to look at...and engage in."

Professor Ileein Shevat says, "They are also, like all the best dances, strictly governed by rules and traditions."

Ruffling his feathers in agitation, Volucer tries pecking and prying the red bow tie off.

You have emoted: Irillia takes a deep breath and nods once to Zyphora.

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "And as I know none of those."

Irillia · January 2017

Costume Contest

You say, "If I may be allowed, I would like to continue the costume contest that the Mountain Wars so rudely interrupted."

Rhiess, a classic trill musician eagerly plays in harmony with the rest of his peers, his expectant face turned to the crowd gathered.

You have emoted: Irillia reaches up for a moment as if to ruffle her headfeathers, but then pauses, in recognition of the pearl strands woven carefully through her feathers.

Luce carefully stations himself with the musicians. "I'll keep our poet company for now."

Justinus grins with glee as Volucer eats his fish before turning back to his cake and tea.

You say, "If anyone has a costume that they would like to display for the costume contest, please feel free to let me know."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "So! I didn't quite hear everyone's costume."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Because of the, well, revolt and all."

With a low curtsey towards you, Aramel says, "If I may present my costume. In truth I had not known we were supposed to be dressed as things." A slight smile appears on her face as she adds, "But it appears, by good fortune, that I am dressed as the Transcendental Aviary."

Comprehension dawns upon Xeii's face as her body glows with blushing hues of pink and topaz.

Daraius Shevat asks Maligorn, "Did you hear the Minister's explanation just now?"

You say, "Once everyone has shown off their costume, everyone will be able to have one vote, which they may use by telling me which was their favourite costume."

You say, "All participants will receive a credit simply for having a costume, but the top three winners will each receive larger credit prizes for their efforts."

You say, "All right, then. Lady Aramel, if you would mind presenting your costume to us."

ex aramel

She is a graceful high elfen lunar vernal ascendant and is tall and willowy, with the light step and swift grace of her race. Her long, raven-dark hair cascades down her back in a wavy waterfall, with little wisps escaping to frame her face. Silver moonflowers and blossoming bluebells are tucked into her hair, casting their soft and elusive fragrance into the air. Their fresh colours mingle with gentle beauty, lending her features a fragile loveliness. Her large grey eyes, set beneath arching brows, are bright and expressive, whether of swift joy or sharp sorrow. Her face is pale and delicate, untouched by years in the manner of the elfen, but her bearing and the elegance of her flowing garments make her seem ageless and possessed of a quiet serenity. She is wearing a stately silk gown overgrown with blossoms, delicate velvet slippers, a silver necklace of cascading moonflowers, a glittering fractal flower and a ring of stormy crystal twined with silver. She walks with the truefavour of Hoaracle.

Aramel proudly shows off a stately silk gown overgrown with blossoms:

Fluidly draping silk, dyed the crisp white of fresh snow, forms this elegant gown of classical proportions. The bodice itself is made fromgathered sheaves of cloth that overlap each other, creating a sharply pointed neckline, before being drawn into a high empire waist. The remainder of the fabric falls from the waistline to the ground in smooth parallel pleats, resembling nothing so much as a fluted marble pillar. Severely simple silver clasps fasten the garment at the shoulders, leaving the arms free. The gown serves less to adorn than to emphasise the existing features of limb and body, creating a clean union of form and function. From the hem of the gown, however, colour arises in a vibrant spill of flowers twining upwards: mingled roses and lilies, bluebells and irises and asters in every imaginable hue, cunningly fashioned from scraps of fabric. The blossoms wind their wild beauty all along the pristine white silk, wrapping around the bodice before ending in a spray of fluttering petals across one shoulder. Affixed in their midst is a glittering fractal flower fashioned of clear crystal, its precise facets casting the available light back in the same vivid hues as the blossoms all around it.

Aramel proudly shows off a silver necklace of cascading moonflowers:

Made to comfortably encircle the neck, this necklace features finely crafted silver links joined into a dainty chain. In place of a traditional pendant, a set of six silver moonflowers have been meticulously arranged, cascading down from the left side of the chain to rest easily on the top of the wearer's chest. Despite the delicate thinness of the flowers' petals, it is clear that they have been wrought with utmost care and attention to detail, each bearing a unique shape and texture not unlike flowers found in nature. Set at the centre of each flower is a small orb of golden beryl, adding to the elegance of the necklace.

Aramel proudly shows off a glittering fractal flower:

This white, six-petaled flower seems simple and plain upon first glance, but closer inspection reveals a dazzling complexity. Clusters of fernlike leaves branch off from the slender, pale-green stem, the veins of which mark out fractal images that continue to unfold under a strong microscope. The delicate petals, outlined by a snowflake fractal pattern, are not truly white. Indeed, when held up to the light, every colour of the spectrum can be found.

Aramel curtseys gracefully.

You clap your hands together merrily.

You say, "Very nice!"

Thervet looks about himself, a dark blue enveloping his form before he starts to fade.

Sinking into his own ambient light, the surrounding area grows notably darker as Thervet fades away.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper looks skeptical and says, "He's gone invisible."

Zyphora applauds politely in admiration.

You say, "It occurs to me that perhaps this would be more amusing if those who were interested simply presented their costumes, without any description. And then the rest of us were to guess what their costume was depicting."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science smiles and says to Aramel, "Lovely."

Xeii raises a hand, crystal briefly flickering her normal lilac before taking on its golden hue once

more.

You say, "Or would that become a little too disorderly with so many people present?"

The surrounding area growing brighter as he enters, a haze of light coalesces into the glowing form of Thervet.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Probably a bit too disorderly."

The Divine voice of Thervet, the Lightwoven echoes in your head, "My apologies for my departure, but

You tell Thervet, the Lightwoven, "No need to apologise at all. I look forward to seeing Your costume whenever You return."

You laughingly say, "I believe we have our next volunteer."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "All purple."

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat murmurs to Xeii, "As I said - impressionable in only the best of ways."

You say, "Lightwoven, would You like to discuss your costume?"

ex thervet

He is a radiant immortal and is defined by light, his form scribed in shifting shades and fluid streams of dazzling colour: reds, blues, greens, even bright whites all course and churn across his skin in lambent pools. Long glowing strands fall from his head, emulating hair in a shifting silhouette down to the middle of his back, while his limbs haze off into blurs, edges diffused and impossible to define. Two orbs of solid light dominate his face, burning in an unblinking, pupilless stare to reflect and refract all he sees, casting the world back in prismatic glints of light and colour and motion. He is wearing robes of shifting incandescent light and 36 purple tulips.

Chairman Luce Shevat asks, "The Garden of Light?"

A masked illithoid says, "We can't blame him. Purple is a most lovely colour."

Maligorn nods his head in agreement.

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico whispers to you, "Are volunteers to reveal the subject of their outfit, then?"

Thervet, the Lightwoven says, "I have come as a flower garden."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "A very well lit flower garden."

Vortices of blue and green light form upon Thervet's body, exploding into brilliant whites and yellows.

You whisper to Xeii, "I believe that is best. Guessing may be a little unwieldy in so large a company, alas."

Wondir closes her eyes and inhales deeply, absorbing the scent of her surroundings.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says to Shedrin, "Oh, I should have dressed you as a garden."

Zephyr Kialkarkea Letara says, "A well tended one at that. Quite focused, clean of any weeds."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says to Phoebus, "I quite like him as the Onyx Generator."

You say, "Thank You very much, Lord Thervet. A very entertaining costume, indeed."

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "I am dressed as the spousal entity of Phoebus Windwhisper."

ex shedrin

He is a crystalline lucidian collectivist vernal demigod and stands at below average height with a slender build. Hewn from opaque malachite, his body shines with banded light, streaked with several shades of green and black that intertwine to form unique patterns on his skin. A small, yellow swirling mass of colour swims just beneath the surface of these designs, languidly making rounds across his body. Small, tangled spikes upon his head form a semblance of hair. His blue-grey eyes flash intermittently with tinges of yellow and green. He is wearing a lightning bolt lapel pin, a pair of Winged Sandals of Haste, Spectacles of Clairvoyance, the Doctoral Tam of the Anomaly, an engraved ring of gold and beryl, a phylactery of prismatic crystal, the Quintessential Mandala of Resplendent Harmony, a ridiculous pig nose, fulminating prayer beads of the Architect, a glittering diamond watch, a dark suit bearing compounded onyx fragments, a feathered onyx half mask and an austere silver wedding band. He walks with the truefavour of Isune.

Phoebus's eyes sparkle with amusement.

The corners of Wondir's mouth turn up as she grins mischievously.

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat says to Shedrin, "But you are dressed as that every day."

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says to Shedrin, "Very realistic."

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "I am normally dressed as the Commissar."

Thervet, the Lightwoven says to you, "Thank you, though I am no Lord to speak of; merely a servant."

Shedrin's crystalline form shifts to a cool sky-blue colour as he gazes in the direction of the Morion Helmet of the Temporal Commissar.

Vortices of blue and green light form upon Thervet's body, exploding into brilliant whites and yellows.

Daraius bends to discreetly adjust his boots, then continues to observe the proceedings from a

crouched position.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says to Shedrin, "My 'spousal entity' must include flowers."

Shedrin slips into a brilliant white rose.

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat says to Phoebus, "I must remember that rule."

You say, "Well! That is a...unique costume, Commissar, and certainly very convincing."

Phoebus leans close to Shedrin and gently lays a kiss upon his forehead.

You say, "No one will ever doubt that you exactly resemble what you are portraying."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science looks thoughtful and says to you, "I believe the Emissar holds that right, Archmage."

You say to Daraius, "Next, may I ask you to show off your costume, Marquis Daraius? I know that you went to some additional trouble to assemble it."

Daraius's notched ears perk up attentively.

Luce quietly returns to his position by the musicians.

The pleasant strumming of a troubadour's mandolin joins the festive beat of the brass ensemble, each

chord bursting with delight.

Orventa tucks in to her ice cream, briefly eyeing the musicians appreciatively.

The lights dim and a focused beam of soft white light spotlights Daraius.

Affecting the air of an aged hunter, Daraius stalks to a clearing in the dance floor, his mammothskin coat dripping with thawing ice as he passes.

ex daraius

He is a ferocious loboshigaru demigod and is grey-furred and long of tooth. Though aged, he remains a formidable presence, his stature tall and commanding despite a slight hunch. A frosty rime clings to the dingy white mammoth pelt that cloaks his frame, gradually melting into rivulets that streak down his leather-clad legs, pooling on the pristine floor beneath his canine pawpads. His perked triangular ears - both notched and worn with old scars - swivel and flick towards any sound worth investigating, while his deep brown eyes glimmer with the wisdom of age and experience. Keen and alert, they nevertheless possess a certain grandfatherly warmth in their gaze. He is wearing a pair of well-worn trousers, thick leather footwrap-style boots, a fringed mammothskin coat lined with fur and a simple sienna leather belt. Tattooed on his hands is an illustration of twin benedictions. He walks with the truefavour of Isune.

Daraius Shevat says, "I needn't show off every item, because I didn't come in any finery."

Xeii nods appreciatively at the thawing hunter.

Justinus glances at Daraius and his coat for a moment, taking a sip of his tea. "Interestingly primal." he murmurs, nodding in approval before taking another sip.

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says, "Quite unique, Thrice-great grandfather!"

Daraius Shevat says, "You might recognize me as Old Maka, a figure out of Hallifaxian loboshigaru literature."

Comprehension dawns upon Xeii's face as her body glows with blushing hues of pink and topaz.

His tail swishing with anticipation or agitation, Daraius Shevat says, "He is the archetype who represents the first of the vassal packs brought to Hallifax, and the end of the old ways."

You say, "You certainly look quite the part, Marquis, down to the ice clinging to your fur. I am all admiration for your efforts at putting together a costume so efficiently."

A low, contented growl arises within Daraius's chest.

His tone laced with a low growl, Daraius Shevat says, "It is terribly uncomfortable, I confess."

The soft, tinkling notes of a lyre rise in a joyful melody, chiming and crystal-clear with cheerful buoyancy.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Art is often laced with palpable suffering."

A beam of moonlight comes down from the sky and bathes Gero in light.

Daraius's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Tristanna dances down a moonbeam and alights gently on the ground.

Daraius cedes the stage to the next contestant, prowling back to his place among the crowd.

Chairman Luce Shevat says to Daraius, "You carry it well."

Archmage Irillia Shevat says, "In that case, I would like to volunteer next with my costume."

A beam of brilliant bright light shines down upon Irillia, bringing the focus upon them.

Daraius removes a fringed mammothskin coat lined with fur.

You have emoted: Irillia steps forward before the assembled crowd and lifts one hand into the air, twirling a finger almost idly.

Xeii takes the opportunity to observe your costume once more, form shifting to a curious emerald.

You have emoted: In response, a bevy of gentle breezes swirl around Irillia as she holds out her arms and turns slowly from side to side and announces, "My costume is of Vasha, Lady of the East Wind."

ex me

She is a feathered cloud trill harmonious demigoddess and is aerially adorned for the occasion, her tall, streamlined form and high-boned, aquiline features accentuated with the hues of clouds and sky. From the form and flow of her hands to the slender, delicate lines of her figure, a quality of airy grace suffuses her appearance, unconscious yet harmonious. A mask of airy, gossamer silk as pale and pristine as a sunlit cloud conceals her face entirely, its teardrop-shaped eyeholes outlined with sparkling sapphires that limns her gaze with a rich blue glow. Visible through the eyeholes, her wide-set sky-blue eyes are lined with metallic silver eyeshadow that throws off glints of light with every blink. Powdered alabaster has been dusted across the expanse of her surpassingly fair skin in an elaborate motif of twirling wind currents, surrounding her with a seeming entourage of shifting winds. Shimmering strands of pearls are woven through the downy cap of spun-silver plumes atop her head, which have been curled into softly coiling pinions akin to eddying breezes. Sweeping majestically outward from between her shoulder blades, her cloud-grey feathered wings are graced with delicate, finespun platinum chains suspended with dangling diamond and opal pendants, which sway gently and reflect ambient light in tiny points of icy white and bright silver with every movement. She is wearing a snobby snoot, a pellucid wreath of cygnine plumes, an airy mask of Vasha, Lady of the East Wind, a sweeping gown of airy white chiffon, a pair of white satin dancing slippers and sheer silk and lace gloves.

Downy, dove-grey feathers crown her head, overlaid to provide an understated, simple cap of plumage. Each feather is small and rounded, the pinions remaining still pliant, soft and wavy so as to nearly create the illusion of neatly-kept hair.

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says, "I wonder if the other Elemental Lords are present here?"

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "I considered Zeforos, so."

In response to Irillia's words a gentle wind begins to blow from the east.

You have emoted: Irillia sways gently in accompaniment to the gentle breeze, the strands of pearl woven into her wings and headfeathers tinkling softly with every movement.

You say, "If I may, I would like to show off my mask and gown."

You display an airy mask of Vasha, Lady of the East Wind for all in the room to see..

Crafted from gossamer silk as pale and pristine as the surface of a sunlit cloud, this mask at once adorns and conceals the wearer's visage from with an airy, delicate likeness of the gentle Vasha, Lady of the East Wind. A lining of white velvet provides both comfort and structure to the wispy silk, allowing it to adhere gently to the contours of the wearer's face. The teardrop-shaped eyeholes, their points tilting upward toward the temples, are outlined with brilliantly faceted sapphires sparkling in the luminous hues of early twilight. Bound within each sapphire are radiant motes of light essence, suffusing the wearer's gaze with a soft blue glow. High, prominent cheekbones and a classically uptilted nose are sculpted above a delicately rounded chin and full lips, which have been painted a cool cerulean-blue and curved in the faintest, most mysterious of smiles. Intricate embroidery reminiscent of twirling currents of air dances across the nose and cheeks in silvery, spiralling arabesques, embellished with tiny, lustrous pearls that lend these windswept traceries a subtle iridescence. A halo-like diadem of glittering, icy diamonds set in filigreed silver extends from the forehead of the mask, encircling the top of the wearer's head and securing the mask in place when worn.

You display a sweeping gown of airy white chiffon for all in the room to see.

Layers of sheer white chiffon, spun so fine as to be poetically likened to woven zephyrs, have been fashioned into an airy, sweeping ball gown that seems to float around the wearer like a swirling, sunlit cloud. The fluid, bias-cut bodice clings gracefully to the curves of the torso, embellished with a swooping off-the-shoulder neckline and long, trailing ribbons of silvery silk that drape over the arms in place of sleeves. Faceted diamonds have been sewn with exquisite care along each fluttering ribbon in wispy, feathery cirrus-like patterns. From the narrow basque waist, the skirt billows out into four frothing tiers of flounces as filmy and ethereal as morning mist. Each delicately ruffled flounce is edged with lustrous ribbons of the same silvery diamond-studded silk, glimmering softly in tiny glints of white and silver when struck by ambient light. From the folds of the gown wafts forth a subtle, elusive fragrance with every movement, suffusing the wearer with the soothing freshness of a cool breeze on a crisp, clear day.

Applauding, Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says, "May I volunteer next? I shall have to retire soon after."

Wondir nods her head at Xeii.

You say to Xeii, "Of course, please do."

A rare, mischievous expression graces Xeii's face as she begins to pirouette slowly, the illusion halo flickering brighter above her head and the white silk about her frame flying out gracefully.

ex xeii

She is a crystalline crystalsinger lucidian and stands tall and radiant as the sun's golden rays. For this occasion she has weaved her illusions about herself to appear hewn from brilliant beryl. Gauzy silks of a pure white have been draped about her lithe form to make up an airy gown. Though her hands and feet are bare, a halo of light like that of a coronuli crowns her head. Xeii's milky quartz hair remains unchanged, though today it is loose and ripples gracefully about the small of her back. Her eyes are also her normal smoky quartz, and they gaze out at the world with a cool tranquility and intellect few sun fae show. A faint amber glow lights her crystalline skin, amplifying the impression of inner fire. She is wearing a silver filigreed half mask, a gauzy gown of sheer icy blue and a tiger lily. She walks with the highfavour of Isune.

Flickers of flame surround Xeii as she continues to twirl, faster and faster, and the halo reaches its apex of brightness.

The spotlight shifts from Irillia to Xeii making her the center of the ball.

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says, "A coronuli I am, but no fire I bring."

You give up a round of applause.

Aficionado Xeii Shevat, Contralto Drammatico says, "No jewelry or finery to show off, just illusions and naught more."

Xeii steps forward with regal poise, one hand graciously extended to her audience as she sketches an elegant bow.

Wondir grins and nods at Xeii.

Aramel beams broadly.

A masked illithoid says to Xeii, "I think the lily is appropriate for a coronuli."

You say, "An excellent costume, and well-thought-out in its details! I like it very much."

Luce nods his head emphatically.

Xeii appears to puff up slightly as her entire body glows a cheerful shade of citrine yellow.

You say, "Thank you, Aficionado. Does anyone else wish to show off their costumes?"

Wondir smooths loose curls neatly back into their braid.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Ah, I suppose I could do mine?"

Phoebus quickly devours a plump pigeon pie.

Bowing slightly, you say, "Please do, Emeritus."

Xeii excuses herself with an apologetic curtsey.

Wildeflower Aramel Shevat says to Xeii, "Be well, dear."

The spotlight shifts again illuminating Phoebus just as she finishes her pie.

Phoebus coughs softly.

Justinus hides a grin behind his hand.

Phoebus steps away from her place near the back of the gathering, shying away from the spotlight and leading her snow phoenix up with her. She clears her throat softly, adjusting her wings and cloak in an anxious manner under the scrutiny of the crowd.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "I am afraid my costume has no amount of fancy presentation to go with it. It stands as it is, and, hopefully, its model presents it well."

Gesturing to the bird beside her, Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "My outfit is in the likeness of a snow phoenix. Mine has joined me, for the occasion."

ex phoebus

She is a feathered cloud trill reclusive demigoddess and stands tall at over seven feet, holding herself with a poised and professional posture. Her coppery headfeathers are short and thick and choppy, swept haphazardly forward in a distinctly low maintenance style. Two grand wings spread prominently outward from her back, remarkable more for their size than their modest colouration, a light, creamy brown banded thrice in white. Phoebus is perhaps less slim-bodied than the average trill, her figure more akin to that of a human woman of healthy weight, lending her a somewhat matronly character. In contrast, the handsome features of her face are not particularly feminine--boyish, even-- but the disparity works to her advantage, ensuring that her appearance is not one to be easily forgotten. A pair of rectangular spectacles rests upon the bridge of her upturned nose, their slim lenses framed by a thin golden wiring that offers an attractive contrast against her sky blue eyes. She is wearing the Quintessential Mandala of Resplendent Harmony, an austere silver wedding band, a phylactery of prismatic crystal, a lucid watch of gleaming crystal, a breathtaking circlet of ice flowers, a cloak of cerulean plumes, a captivating gown of tessellating flowers, elegant opera length silk gloves, dazzling diamond slippers and an icy snow phoenix mask. She walks with the highfavour of Isune. Orbiting around her head are a turquoise crystal, a beryl crystal, a bloodstone crystal, a garnet crystal, an onyx crystal, an amethyst crystal, a sapphire crystal, an opal crystal, a diamond crystal, an emerald crystal, and a jade crystal.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "Where he might have flurries of ice and snow, I have substituted frozen flowers."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "If I may, I will show off the pieces of my outfit."

Phoebus proudly shows off a breathtaking circlet of ice flowers:

Woven bands of flat, polished silver wind gracefully from thin, curlingsides to a pointed front, their weaving pattern becoming subtly widerand looser as it approaches the middle forehead. From this latticedfront a host of wintry flowers bloom as if bursting triumphantly through cracks in oppressive ice. Their crystal petals unfurl into gorgeous pellucid blossoms, perfectly transparent but for the whisper of deep blue which suffuses their very centres. Delicate glass leaves sparkle beneath like sun-kissed frost; dusted liberally with finely crushed diamonds, each leaf twinkles softly with a certain gelid radiance, a perfect backdrop to the sleek and cloudless shine of the petals above. There is a subtle quality of motion to the piece, an invisible wind which seems to stir between the many lucent leaves and petals. But in truth the glass-wrought flora are ever still, their windswept state but a scene forever frozen in the clutches of winter's frost.

Phoebus proudly shows off a captivating gown of tessellating flowers:

A dress of fine cerulean silk provides the backdrop upon which blooms a breathtaking fractal design of dahlias rendered in pristine white. Meticulous platinum stitching imparts a stunning level of detail to the tessellating flora as they overtake the gown in unfurling tendrils, the metallic lustre of the thread creating a series of shimmering pathways which lead the eye naturally along the curves of the figure, so that not a single facet of the design - or the wearer - goes unseen. Swooping dramatically inward from strapless shoulders, the plunging neckline offers ample view of the wearer's chest, suggesting that the dress was tailored with the aesthetic of a buxom woman in mind. The remainder of the gown is form-fitting with no unnecessary ruffles or frills, letting the sensual contours of the body alone give shape to the captivating design.

Phoebus proudly shows off a cloak of cerulean plumes:

What looks to be a mass of oversized feathers is actually a cloak of fine silk, meticulously rendered by the hand of a skilled artist to appear as realistic plumage. The brilliant blue fabric spills elegantly down the back, enrobing the wearer within an embrace of warm, sleek silk, the very tips of the longest cerulean quills just barely whispering across the ground with each movement. A light chain of platinum links clasps the loosely hanging cloak about the shoulders and boasts the only two true feathers of the entire piece. Downy and pure white, they dangle from two small sections of chain, bringing a satisfying note of authenticity to the garment's avian feel.

Phoebus proudly shows off an icy snow phoenix mask:

This masquerade mask is slightly unusual in that it is fashioned not from fabric but from a multifaceted mass of diamond, thin enough to be worn comfortably yet substantial enough to partially obscure the wearer's features. Upon closer examination the facets of the diamond mask are revealed to be rough carvings of feathers, swept tumultuously about the forehead and cheekbones as if weathering a relentless gale. Barely detectable to the naked eye, spindly striations of ultramarine blue run through the icy gemstone, converging within a beak-like protrusion that hooks sharply over the bridge of the nose. Legs of diamond melt like icicles from the mask's edges, delicately framing the sides of the face with a glassy shimmer and rounding out the piece with a final wintry flair.

Wondir claps her hands together merrily.

Frost forms on the ground around Phoebus's feet, the air grows noticeably colder as breath begins to

condensate in the air.

Phoebus proudly shows off elegant opera length silk gloves:

Reaching halfway up the upper arm, these elegant dress gloves have been sewn from a lustrous ivory silk of exceptionally high quality. At the top of each glove blossoms a gardenia rendered in beautiful sapphire, pinned to the fabric by a delicate pistil of icy platinum at its centre. In the light the semitranslucent petals of these flowers gleam a brilliant blue, casting a subtle ultramarine tinge over the white silk below.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper looks thoughtful and says, "I suppose the gloves as well, they are

supposed to be part of it."

Wondir's eyes widen in disbelief as she softly exclaims, "Whoa."

You have emoted: Irillia applauds politely and says, "I have always admired your designs of the ice flowers circlet and the snow phoenix mask. They complement each other beautifully for this particular costume, Emeritus."

Orventa applauds Phoebus heartily.

Justinus claps politely.

Volucer flaps uncomfortably.

A masked illithoid says, "Very thematic, yes."

Phoebus gives a quick, polite bow and rushes back to her spot by the food.

Volucer says to you, "If I am burdened with my 'costume' may I show it too?"

Shedrin gives Phoebus a peck on the cheek.

You say to Volucer, "Of course, Volucer!"

Volucer flaps and flies to stand at the centre.

ex volucer

Wide and dilated eyes of gold foil quickly focus and unfocus as the falcon turns its head with short jerks and bobs to eye anything that moves too fast for its liking. His nervously clicking beak and talons are a mother of pearl white, while the scales around his nostrils, eyes, and forelegs are blue quartz, though all of them are scuffed, dull, and in poor condition. Downy feathers are matted to the top of his beak and head, leading back to a ragged crest, and the once long and elegant feathers that tipped his ears have been broken clean off. His feathers overall are white and patterned with dull grey bars that work their way across his back, but many are haggard from little care and overzealous preening, and even more feathers have transparent markings and rusty stains from improper molting. He holds his wings halfway opened in a permanent mantling stance, though they occasionally flick open or shut in a jittery twitch. He is wearing: a bright red bow tie that wraps around his neck.

Volucer does not even register your presence as a threat.

Lifting his beak with a grump of irritation, Volucer says, "My costume is a red bow tie. It is tight and, red! Lady said I must wear it come. Or I was to stay home."

Daraius nods his head at Volucer.

Volucer blinks incredulously at Daraius.

Simply Yarith Shevat, Tactical Genius looks undecided and says, "She drives a hard bargain."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs to Volucer, "Thank you for bearing the burden for the sake of our company."

The spotlight swivels slowly to Volucer, showing he is indeed wearing a red bow tie.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "To Volucer But it is very fetching."

Raising his cup of tea in salute, Junior Fellow Justinus says, "Quite fetching!"

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says to Volucer, "Maybe like this?"

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Perfect."

Volucer grouses under his breath as he shuffles back to stand beside Irillia, pecking at the uncomfortable bow tie.

You smile and say to Volucer, "Well, you look very dashing, Volucer. A perfectly tasteful specimen of a falcon gentleman."

Wondir nods her head in agreement.

Gero grins and offers "She's not here now, maybe it fell off when you were eating."

Bemoaning his fate, Volucer says, "It would be nicer with some fish....?"

You say, "Would anyone else like to go next?"

Volucer clasps a fish wrapped in paper in his talons and leisurely consumes every morsel.

You say, "I am afraid that I should mention that my time in the realms is drawing short this month, so I hope that all those who have costumes they'd like to display would not mind doing so soon."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science asks you, "I already showed mine earlier, I

imagine that everyone here saw...?"

Volucer exclaims to Gero, "Aha! But, I cannot reach it!"

You say to Wondir, "Perhaps you should show everyone again, as we did have some new arrivals after the Mountain Wars ended."

Showing that she understands, Wondir nods her head slowly.

The spotlight snaps to Wondir its' bright light drawing every eye.

Wondir steps forward confidently, "a large part of my costume was the performance, earlier. I am dressed as the Dawn, and in that sense I am dressed as a creation of Lady Isune." She offers a curtsey.

Wondir proudly shows off a high-necked gown of iridescent dawn-silver samite:

Tailored to accentuate and flatter a slender figure, this floor-length gown is elegantly crafted from the heavy, fine silk known as samite, rendered in the luminous argent hue of the dusky morning sky turned to pearlescent silver by the coming of dawn. Graced with a pale iridescence, the samite shimmers exquisitely with the barest movement when worn, evoking the play of light across rippling waters. The gown's feminine, form-fitting cut favours sleek simplicity over lavish ostentation, sheathing the body's curves in a severe, ostensibly modest fashion that leaves everything to the imagination. A high, stiff mandarin collar demurely encircles the neck, with a rounded keyhole opening below the middle of the collar secured by an ornately woven silk knot at the throat, while dainty cap sleeves provide a charming accent. From there, the gown descends in an uninterrupted flow of silvery samite, narrowing through the waist and hugging the hips before dropping to the ground in straight folds. A high slit reaching to the hips on either side of the skirt allows for comfortable movement and reveals glimpses of the gown's creamy satin lining when worn. Interspersed all over the entire gown are delicate skyblooms embroidered in silver metallic thread, repeating and intertwining in a subtle, intricate pattern. A graceful aerial is stitched in pure, lustrous white across the front of the skirt, with two twilight-blue sapphires representing the bird's eyes. Standing out clearly against its silvery backdrop, the aerial's lissome body and curving neck are detailed with elaborately curlicued feathers, and its magnificent snow-white wings are spread as if about to soar through the air.

Wondir proudly shows off a feathered hat of iridescent dawn-silver samite:

Constructed upon a lightweight wooden frame, this unusual hat is fashioned into a dainty, utterly flat disc covered with heavy, fine samite rendered an iridescent silvery hue, like the argent morning sky illuminated by dawn's rising. Barely wider than the circumference of the head when donned, the hat is kept in place with a small silver comb at the back. A sweeping array of immaculate cloud-white feathers blossoms outward from an enormous, eye-catching skybloom of shimmering silver gossamer pinned toward the back of the hat, the plumes and petals both fluttering airily with every passing breeze. Nestled within the centre of the skybloom, a single sapphire twinkles like a twilight-blue eye amid the layers of diaphanous gossamer. When donned at a jaunty angle, this striking feathered hat makes a bold yet charming accent to an elegant ensemble.

Wondir proudly shows off gleaming crystal boots:

Golden coils loop and duck beneath plates of white steel, a vivid sea of graceful, twisted filigree. Like vines, they sneak and enmesh the plates together, making the boots appear to be held together by these graceful tongues of solidified metal. Glass tubes spring from the edges of the plates and swirl around the leg of the boot, refracting and twisting the image of the wires to form an ocean of gold beneath their surface. The lip of each boot is double-stitched with the wire, ending a bit below the knee. The soles of the boots are of the same stitching and are made of supple, creamy leather.

Justinus's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.

Wondir proudly shows off a sixteen-tailed frost lyrebird cloak:

Somewhat strange in shape, this cloak has been cut and dyed to resemble the plumage of a frost lyrebird. The main body is barely even a mantelet, just substantial enough to cover the shoulders and upper arm like a snowfall, with a coral snoefaasia button to fasten the collar. Far more striking are the sixteen ankle-length silk plumes that cascade down the back. Fourteen of the plumes are barely wisps, pale white replicas of feathers that add a gauzy haze to the cloak, though silver threads down the centre of each add the look of lyre strings. The two outermost plumes are far more corporeal, long and thin streamers of silver and frosty blue that curve slighty to look like the sides of an upturned lyre.

You say, "Ah, yes. Thank you again, Junior Fellow!"

Wondir inclines her head politely to those around her.

Daraius quietly excuses himself.

You say, "If anyone else has any further costumes, please step forward now!"

Irillia · January 2017

Costume Contest, continued

Maligorn's ears perk up with a sudden interest.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Well, uh."

You say, "However, given the excellence of the costumes that we have seen, I believe it may be too difficult to vote for a particular favourite. I will simply be rewarding everyone who participats with a credit prize in thanks for their hard work."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "You know, as a rushed costume, I don't especially want to dishonour who I might be representing. But on the other hand, my understanding is that Elostian, the Enigma enjoyed an amorphous, but decidedly blue form."

Aramel grins mischievously at Maligorn.

ex maligorn

He is a bouncing furrikin timeless demigod and is a diminutive 3 feet tall. Fluffy, white fur swathes over him in shimmering layers, with melancholy greys claiming his underbelly and arms in a sleeve-like pattern, as if the very colour were sapped from his form. Jagged electrical scars strike the fur from his body across his snout, arms and chest erratically, showing a pale pink underneath. Pointed, large ears swivel this way and that in a languid routine. Pearl-grey eyes perch impassively on a snout from which two incisors poke out, accompanied by an incongruous tuft of headfur that sticks up rebelliously. Tiny jade stones are inset in each incisor, muted blues that blend neatly with the rest of Maligorn's greyscale form. His muscle tone is best described as non-existent -- slender, short limbs move languidly to end in crescent claws that are shorn to nubs. A luxurious tail that is as tall as he is arches over his head in a graceful, soft curve, static electricity sparking through it intermittently. Maligorn's feet never appear to touch the ground, floating on an ever-present platform of elemental air. He is wearing a breathtaking circlet of ice flowers, an iridescent white fractal flower brooch, the Quintessential Mandala of Resplendent Harmony, a boreal eye mask wrought of ice and frost, a burnished watch of silver and turquoise, a collar necklace of burnished bronze and boreal sapphire, a pert little nose, an onyx and silver trefoil lapel pin, a serene blue jade mobius wedding band, a dapper gentleman's suit of sapphire and teal and dark brown dress shoes. He walks with the highfavour of Isune.

"Heh heh heh" Wondir chuckles.

Daraius ponders Maligorn thoughtfully, looking him up and down.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "And so, I found many blue things."

Shedrin looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Coughing, Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Unfortunately, I could not locate black shoes. Also, shoes are very uncomfortable."

Maligorn proudly shows off a dapper gentleman's suit of sapphire and teal:

Emboldened by lively hues of vivid teal and subtly-glimmering sapphire, this luxurious suit has been primarily fashioned of a fine-threaded linen weave. The ebon long-sleeved shirt is fastened with several diamond-shaped buttons of dark silver, each impressed with the harmonious form of a mandala in miniature. Embroidered in glossy threads of pale argent hue, a vest of sapphire silk brocade has been similarly patterned with iridescent mandalas, the garment's interior lined with fluid ebon silk. Revealing only a portion of its accompanying shirt and vest when closed, the jacket is a vibrant teal-blue, its angular cut tailored to emphasise and streamline a slender frame; the buttons and cufflinks are wrought of the selfsame silver as those of the shirt, polished to an illustrious gleam. Similar to their counterpart, the trousers of the suit are dyed bright teal, fitted with deep pockets and iron-pressed to a smart crease. As a final, august embellishment, a silk cravat of sapphire hue has been tucked elegantly into the shirt's collar. Evocative of the plumage of the superb fairywren in all its sky-toned hues, this gentleman's suit fosters a dapper appearance, the faintly iridescent threads of silver and sapphire lending a subdued refinement to the bright shades of teal-blue.

You have emoted: Irillia chuckles softly as she turns to study Maligorn's ensemble.

Daraius nods his head at Maligorn, showing his acceptance.

Daraius Shevat says, "Are they ever."

Lord-Librarian Portius Nitraedes, Paragon of Progress says, "Truer words have never been spoken."

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "...I wonder if they are borrowed, old and new...."

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "Hmm."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "I also have Phoebus's circlet, because I did not know it was hers and I bought it before she started waking again."

Phoebus's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Touching his own throat, Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Also I think the necklace is her design."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "But, well."

Primus Gero says to Volucer, "I would enjoy that."

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Behold, for I am an Enigma."

Maligorn strikes a pose.

Maligorn struts proudly about the room.

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "Hmm, the Enigma's form I would define as non-existent,

excepting His voice."

You say, "That you certainly are, Force Commander."

Volucer grins at Gero and flaps his wings in anticipation of mischief ahead.

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says to Maligorn, "Anyone may wear the circlet for any purpose they see fit, it is not mine. If I wanted it purely for myself, I would not create it for the city's use."

Maligorn makes a very focused, and aloof expression, before echoing in his most enigmatic voice,

"How progresses?"

Aramel hides a smile, as if remembering.

Wondir inclines her head politely to Volucer.

Volucer lays his ears back and relaxes, his eyes lidding halfway.

Primus Gero says to Volucer, "I've heard she enjoys them as small birds do, consumed and reproduced."

You say, "Well, that is certainly the most amusing costume, as well as the most nostalgic, in many ways."

Volucer flaps and flies overhead with a "Goodbye!" before winging away.

You say, "Unfortunately, with that last costume, I too must be making a graceful exit, much like Volucer."

You say, "Thank you all for attending this ball, and please stay if you would like to continue

dancing, mingling, and enjoying the refreshments presnt."

You say, "Present, that is."

You cough softly.

Primus Gero whispers to Tristanna, "There -are- cookies."

Daraius Shevat says to you, "Thank you, Minister, for graciously hosting this event."

With great elegance, a masked illithoid lays out a spread of exotic cuisine and delicacies before you. Along with everyone else, you indulge yourself in this epicurian feast, eating and drinking until utterly satiated. The fine meal not only lifts your spirits, but enhances your body as well.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to you, "Thank you!"

Tristanna Myeras whispers to Gero, "Chocolate?"

You say, "This has been a most eventful month, and I appreciate everyone's patience and kindness in attending and returning even if the midst of conflict and strife."

A classic trill musician strikes up a dancing tune upon his trumpet, inviting dancers to come upon the floor.

The Divine voice of Thervet, the Lightwoven echoes in your head, "Many thanks for your work presiding over the festivities. It has been entertaining to watch both from the chandelier and from these new eyes."

Provost Zyphora Windwhisper says, "Indeed, thank you, Archmage."

You say, "Fair winds to everyone, and may clear skies and sweet breezes guide you in all your future

journeys."

Temperate, airy zephyrs rush in from cardinal directions to surround you as Maligorn sweeps his hand through the air and intones benignly, "Fair winds and clear skies go with you."

The crowd offers a small polite clap to Irillia for her work.

Daraius Shevat says, "I regret I will not be able to see Falmiis and Aramel's dance this afternoon, but I trust there will be other opportunities."

Irillia · January 2017

Continued from @Aramel's point of view (thank you so much, Aramel, for supplying your log of the event!):

The Last Dance

Aramel blinks in astonishment. "How did you learn of that?" she laughingly asks Daraius.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science asks Kialkarkea, "Would you like to dance?"

Daraius Shevat says to you, "It has been talked about for days."

Wondir nods her head at Daraius, showing her acceptance.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "Well, now that everyone has seen my costume."

Maligorn removes dark brown dress shoes.

Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "That's that."

Daraius Shevat says to you, "Since we first arrived at the ballroom."

Maligorn peers at dark brown dress shoes unscrupulously.

Daraius nods solemnly to Maligorn.

Raising her hands defensively, you say to Daraius, "Oh dear."

Lord-Librarian Portius Nitraedes, Paragon of Progress says to Maligorn, "I'd advise you to throw them into the Matrix, but it doesn't deserve to be polluted with...shoes."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper looks skeptical and says, "Personally, I find it more uncomfortable to not wear shoes."

Wondir nods her head at Phoebus, showing her acceptance.

Several lutists entice the party-goers to dance, their delicate, rapid playing augmenting the main theme with a bright vivacity and velocity.

The muffled sound of music echoes throughout the city, carried from the Grand Collectivist Ballroom on gentle winds.

Daraius's whiskers twitch subtly.

Tilting her head as she surveys the assembled crowd laughingly, you say, "So, who is going to dance first?"

Chiming in, Primus Gero says, "Not to mention we've a city full of people with the ability to monitor time both past and future."

Backing away, Force Commander Maligorn Shevat says, "No Pejat, no dance."

You say to Maligorn, "Well, my dance partner is no more present than yours is. Let's volunteer the Primus."

You nod your head at Gero.

Daraius Shevat says, "Mm, my partner also vanished some time ago, and it is about time I took my leave, anyhow."

You smile impishly and say to Gero, "Will you not dance with your guest?"

Clasping his paws and offering a polite bow, Daraius Shevat says, "May you all be well, and your efforts fruitful."

You curtsey gracefully before Daraius.

Maligorn flashes Daraius a joyous smile.

"Uhh..." stalls Gero.

Phoebus inclines her head politely to Daraius.

Maligorn waves goodbye at Daraius.

Wondir curtseys gracefully before Daraius.

Defensively raising her hands, Tristanna backs away from the situation slowly.

Justinus takes a drink from a porcelain tea cup embellished with golden feathers.

Kialkarkea curtseys gracefully.

Daraius leaves to the northwest, surrounded by swirling motes of golden light.

Stalling, Primus Gero says, "Well, uh, that is, Wondir I think is ready with her partner."

Orventa takes a drink from a porcelain tea cup embellished with golden feathers.

You beam broadly at Wondir.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science says to Gero, "A request is not a consent, Mentor."

With a slow nod to Kialkarkea, Wondir shows her understanding.

Wondir gives Kialkarkea a peck on the cheek.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science asks, "Would anyone like to dance?"

Phoebus shakes her head.

Wondir sucks thoughtfully on her teeth.

You ponder the situation.

Shedrin scoops up a resplendent thunderbird cookie atop a sugary nimbus.

Junior Fellow Justinus frowns and says, "Were I a dancer, I would oblige. I'm sorry."

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "Hmm hmm."

Lightly, you say, "Oh dear."

Luce gives a pained sigh.

Wondir murmurs something unintelligible to Thervet.

Tristanna blushes furiously.

You urge Tristanna onwards.

Wondir curtseys gracefully before Thervet.

Thervet bows respectfully to Wondir.

You have emoted: Aramel turns her attention to Wondir and Thervet, tilting her head to see if they are preparing to dance.

Wondir smiles softly at Thervet.

Kialkarkea leaves to the northwest.

Falmiis enters from the northwest, emanating an aura of immense power.

You beam broadly at Falmiis.

You say, "Oh!"

Tristanna Myeras says, "Oh, we have volunteers!"

You laughingly say to Falmiis, "Fashionably late as ever, I see."

Tristanna grins mischievously at you.

Falmiis peers about himself unscrupulously.

Falmiis Shevat says, "One moment."

Falmiis leaves to the northwest, emanating an aura of immense power.

Falmiis enters from the northwest, emanating an aura of immense power.

You laughingly say, "And off he runs."

You shift your eyes suspiciously from side to side.

You cough softly.

Wondir's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Tristanna Myeras whispers, "Don't blame him."

A masked illithoid says, "To get in costume, of course."

You nod solemnly.

A wry smile spreads across Falmiis's face.

You say to Falmiis, "You are just in time to rescue your city from the most

unfortunate of things."

Thervet takes Wondir's hand in his own, faded one and leads her to the centre of the floor slowly. The glowing immortal presses his other ephemeral hand to Wondir's waist and begins to lead her in a slow, practiced dance two-step.

Falmiis Shevat asks, "Oh? What is that?"

You smile impishly and say to Falmiis, "A quiet dance."

"Oh?" Gero exclaims quizzically.

Gero coughs softly.

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "I...may have been about to volunteer as well."

Chairman Luce Shevat mumbles, "Again.. ..dgem..t."

Emeritus Phoebus Windwhisper says, "I do not dance. I cannot be held accountable for inaction on the part of others."

Wondir follows Thervet to the centre of the floor, following the simple two-step with a radiant smile.

Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep waves his baton with a flourish as the orchestra slows to a stately finish, bowing as Grand Hallifaxian Collectivist Ball concludes.

Falmiis Shevat looks skeptical and says, "We are rescuing the city from a quiet dance?"

Wondir frowns at Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep.

Conductor Fre'zik zi'Prouep flickers curious shades of light green, his head tilting slightly.

You say to Falmiis, "It made sense in the context. You had to be here."

Orventa's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Justinus frowns lightly at Fre'zik, motioning slightly for him to continue playing.

Nodding in understanding, Falmiis Shevat says, "I see."

Steadfast Dreamer, Orventa Trueflight whispers to a classic trill musician, "Perhaps something more jaunty on that trumpet of yours?"

Portius moves away to the northwest, his form wreathed in flickers of burning parchment.

Wondir grins over Thervet's shoulder, nodding in agreement.

A classic trill musician blows out a jaunty tune from his trumpet, a soulful tune with lots of tempo.

Thervet continues to step to and fro with Wondir, his skin glowing with a bright blaze. In an echoing voice, he speaks out, "Dance is an art so pure and practiced.Will the city of the arts not join? The floor holds room for many."

Extending a hand, Falmiis Shevat says to you, "Shall we?"

You have emoted: Aramel smiles suddenly, a sharp and joyous thing. "Yes," she says.

Orventa flutters into the crowd, weaving through the air to the new beat.

Tristanna smiles softly at you.

Taking Aramel's hand in his, Falmiis leads her to the centre of the ballroom. Turning to meet his partner with an encouraging smile, he rests his hand across his torso as he performs a deep bow.

Luce taps his foot in time to the beat, closing his eyes and letting his ears catch the music.

Justinus bobs his head to the jaunty tune, taking another sip of tea as he watches everyone dance. Taking another bite of his cake, he nods in appreciation before discarding the plate in the nearby receptacle.

You have emoted: Aramel gives an answering smile, dipping her head slightly as she sinks into a low, graceful curtsey. After a moment, she lets herself be pulled back to her feet by Falmiis' extended hand, her eyes rising to meet his as their fingers entwine.

As a slow melody begins to resonate around the ballroom, Falmiis settles his other hand at the side of Aramel's waist and guides her in a swaying motion, the pair of them taking steps back and forth in synchrony. Suddenly he extends his arm to send her into a swift turn, before gathering her close again.

Wondir closes her eyes, illuminated by the brilliant light. She steps in time, grinning at Thervet as he speaks. "I have grown to quite enjoy this art, and many others as of late." She hums a harmony that weaves through the music. "I am still learning, perhaps we can teach each other?"

A classic trill musician taps his foot to his own tune.

You have emoted: Aramel lays one hand on Falmiis' shoulder as they turn together across the ballroom floor, raising her other arm to capture his free hand with her own again. To the ever-increasing tempo of the music, she turns as he spins her out again to the fullest extent of their outstretched arms, her gown swirling out around her in an array of colours. They circle each other, linked only by joined hands and held gazes.

With a great deal of quiet shuffling the musicians finish their song and prepare for the next. Raising their bows to their strings and mouthpieces to their lips they slow the tempo down into something a little softer.

Thervet tilts his head at Wondir, vortices of green and deep yellow spinning within his incandescent skin. Beneath them, a platform of solid light rises up into the air, lifting the ephemeral and the human into the air. He nods slightly at her before increasing the tempo of the dance, leading her into a spin.

Maligorn quietly and discreetly excuses himself.

Falmiis makes considered sweeping movements of his free hand and a thin layer of clouds form around the feet of the dancing couple. Nodding reassuringly at Aramel,his next steps bring his feet onto the clouds as he continues the movements of the dance slightly above the ground, supported only by small banks of cloud that seem to dissipate and re-appear with each step.

Phoebus gives Shedrin a peck on the cheek.

Phoebus inclines her head in a quiet farewell and makes her way to the exit.

Warmth returns to your extremities as Phoebus, riding a gentle snow phoenix with wings of sapphire ice, glides out to the northwest, a chill wind leaving frost in her wake.

Whispers of warmth flush through your skin as a gentle snow phoenix with wings of sapphire ice departs in a swirl of sparkling frost.

You have emoted: Aramel returns the nod with barely a dip of her chin, as she takes a deep breath and extends a foot to step upon the clouds gathered before her. The wispy clouds billow and swirl, but hold firm as she steps off solid ground to stand fully upon them.

His eyes fixed on his partner, Falmiis slows the dance as he guides Aramel's hand above their heads. The clouds supporting them rise with each step they take as they circle around each other, until they are dancing high above the ground.

Wondir blushes, a quiet gasp escaping her lips as she is lifted by the light. She composes herself a little, and laughs gently as she moves into the spin. "You are a very good dancer, Thervet!"

Tristanna raises an eyebrow at Gero.

You have emoted: Aramel's eyes fall shut for a moment before she tilts her face up again towards Falmiis, looking resolutely at him. She takes a small step forward, and then another, stepping into empty air as though it were solid ground.The clouds that flash into existence beneath her feet are the only thing preventing her from falling, but she does not look down for them once as she

dances.

Taking angled steps forward and backward again, Falmiis continues to guide the flowing movements of the dance. Seemingly unaware of the audience, his focus is entirely on Aramel and he winds his arm around the elfen, holding her close to him as they make effortless rotations on top of the layer of clouds.

You have emoted: Aramel raises an arm over her head, her fingers barely brushing against Falmiis' as she twirls around him before drawing close once more. A small smile blossoms on her face as the dance progresses, and her steps grow swifter, fluid and fearless in the air. Her dark hair flies out behind her with each turn they take around the grand ballroom.

Falmiis draws Aramel close to him as the music enters its conclusion. The clouds disperse one last time and the two of them are held up in the air by an unseen force. His wings stretch out behind him and fold around Aramel as they slowly descend. As they reach the ground again, he releases her and steps back to perform another bow, a smile beaming across his face.

Gero stands up straight, he bows precisely at the waist offering one hand to Tristanna, the other motions towards the dance floor.

You have emoted: Aramel sinks into a deep curtsey once more as the dance ends, her gown pooling around her and the smile still lingering on her face.

Yarith glances askance.

The temporal fabric steadies itself as Yarith leaves to the northwest.

Shedrin takes a deep breath as the crystal surface of his face softens and shifts in colour, a muted glow appearing within.

Tristanna smiles softly at Gero and takes his hand, following him to a quiet part of the floor.

With laughter in her voice, her cheeks flushed with exertion, you say, "Oh, lovely."

Reylari gives a hunting trophy bearing Tarken's head to Commissar Shedrin

Windwhisper.

A classic trill musician plays something smooth and slow in notes reminiscent of caramel and romance.

"Uhh..." stalls Luce.

Justinus glances askance at Reylari.

Shedrin gives a glimmering miniature of a snow phoenix to Aeromage Reylari Windwhisper.

Thervet continues his simple steps with Wondir, the platform of light beneath them lowering. As they reach the ground, with a simple step, the ephemeral releases his hold of the human's hand waist, taking a quick bow toward his partner as he begins to fade. As his light fades away, the words echo behind him,

"Thank you for the dance."

"Oooooooooh!" Reylari says, eyes wide with wonder.

Sinking into his own ambient light, the surrounding area grows notably darker as Thervet fades away.

Wondir curtseys gracefully.

Luce nods, impressed.

Wondir hums happily, swirling the skirts of her gown and nodding once.

Reylari drops a glimmering miniature of a snow phoenix.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs to you, "I hope to dance as well as you some day."

With a wistful look on her face, Reylari touches a glimmering miniature of a snow phoenix.

A glimmering miniature of a snow phoenix hops forward, frozen wings unfurling slightly.

A glimmering miniature of a snow phoenix spreads his wings wide, cutting a rather majestic - if diminutive - figure. A melodic series of chirps, distinctly crystalline in nature, emanates from his beak as he lifts his head skyward.

As if in answer, minute flakes of glittering powder snow coalesce from the air around a glimmering miniature of a snow phoenix, falling to the ground in an impossibly delicate carpet of white that glimmers with a pristine sheen before slowly melting away as a glimmering miniature of a snow phoenix concludes his song.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science murmurs, "I think I've scared off a dear friend, however, and I think I will check on her."

You say to Wondir, "Thank you, and be well!"

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "Fair winds."

The corners of Wondir's mouth turn up as she grins mischievously.

Justinus waves goodbye at Wondir.

Junior Fellow Wondir, Bachelor of Temporal Science exclaims, "Thank you all for this lovely event!"

Wondir curtseys gracefully.

Falmiis Shevat says to you, "I should return to my rest. Enjoy the rest of the event."

With a flourish of his arm, Falmiis bows deeply.

Wondir leaves to the northwest.

Falmiis leaves to the northwest, emanating an aura of immense power.

You beam broadly.

Luce stretches and back.

Luce looks up into the air for divine inspiration.

You have emoted: Aramel sinks onto a nearby couch, content to watch the rest of the dancers.

Commissar Shedrin Windwhisper says, "I must take my leave now. Fair winds."

Reylari waves goodbye at Shedrin.

You say, "As must I, actually. It has been a privilege to be here."

Chairman Luce Shevat says, "Go well."

You get up off a crescent-shaped couch of sky-blue silk.

Shedrin thrusts his fist skyward as sparks of electricity crackle within his eyes.

You curtsey gracefully.

Xeii · January 2017

Faramel. Just....Faramel. *face-breaking grin*

Ushaara · January 2017

Looks like it was fun, and as much an emoting whirlwind as the first one was!

Go team!

Phoebus · January 2017

Luckily I still had my snow phoenix costume from the last one. I was trying to put together a new outfit, a dream phoenix this time, but didn't have enough time to make it the way I would've liked to.

And those darn revolts! I was so tired by the time they were done and we got to come back.

Luce · January 2017

May've forgotten to mention or clarify to Pejat that Rheiss was an NPC when recapping this :P

The whole event was awesome, thanks again to @Irillia, @Isune, and @Thervet for organizing and executing it!

Maligorn · January 2017

"You can't marry NPCs, Luce" - Sylandra(?) 2017.

Isune · January 2017

@Irillia thanks so much for posting this!

I want to give a personal shout out to another special admin who helped behind the scenes and two very talented and skilled ephs that took up roles last minute to make this a really fun event. We are overflowing with super creative folks right now, it's amazing!

P.S. We admins love dressing up for Balls and Parties too so definitely keep it going and invite us!

Phoebus · January 2017

Maligorn said:

"You can't marry NPCs, Luce" - Sylandra(?) 2017.

I think I was the one who said that, maybe. :P

Sylandra · January 2017

Phoebus said:

Maligorn said:

"You can't marry NPCs, Luce" - Sylandra(?) 2017.

I think I was the one who said that, maybe. :P

lol think it was Phoebus, I bailed before Angkrag (phonecall + no inclination to log back in during revoltz)

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In this Discussion

The second Grand Hallifaxian Collectivist Ball

Comments

Opening Greetings and Speech

Wondir's Musical Performance

Costume Drama and Artistic Differences

A Few Rounds of Haiku

Isune's Grand Announcement

Costume Contest

Costume Contest, continued

The Last Dance