BRISTE DOMHAN (akito&&brezzen)

[LEO LION]

PROLOGUE; the ball

The room was crowded, noise fluttered about the room and seemed like it was a physical presence, it seemed to fill the spacious ballroom to the ceiling. The room itself seemed to be carved of wood, it smelled like the earth, and was lit by soft glowing orbs that seemed to float in the air (though they were hung by the thinnest of strings). What lit the lamps was not fire, but a warm magic that permeated the air as much as the raucous of chattering bodies. Many nobles were there, flaunting their riches and titles like a heart on their sleeve, the Weren folk had welcomed the two neighboring kingdoms to their home, the Centaurs and the Sidhe. Each group couldn’t be more different.

The Grey folk (Weren) were comprised of several different races. The Muryan, people who closely resembled a combination of human and elf with horns that grew from their foreheads in an array of different styles from antlers to tiny stubs, their skin was pale and they were creatures of nature. Many of them had dark brown hair, but there was the few whose hair was blonde or orange. Then the Tabbykin and Hobogle, folk that live underground (in hills) that seem to be all arm and leg and very little body. They are tall characters that seem human enough, save for their long limbs and short bodies; they tend to have short curly blond hair. The last of the Weren are the Wessener, much like the Muryan in appearance their only difference is their lack of horns and that their hair is always black. What marked each Weren as Wild folk was the color of their eyes, each a steel-grey, like a storm cloud filled sky.

The Sidhe were fairly similar to the Weren, though their bodies looked more like elves than the Wild folk who favor humans. They also possessed insectoid features, and seemed to be very flamboyant. The Wild folk and Centaur knew very little about them save that they were fey folk that talk strange and walk strange and they were very apt with magicking their ways around the world. There were rumors that drifted between the Weren as well, that the Sidhe were trustworthy, that they descended from the insects in which they share traits with, and that they were Kindreds, who live more than one life.

Finally the Centaur, who were easily the tallest of the three gatherings of kingdoms, they were a strong race of creatures that possessed the torsos of humans and yet their lower halves were of four-legged creatures, usually of the hooved variety like deer, horses, and sheep. The Weren also knew little about these folk, though they seemed to be great with weapons and were highly revered as freycara – or spirit-kin – if only for the fact that a few of them possessed horns as many of the Weren did.

In this mix of hustle and bustle there was much merriment. Rejoicing was to be had as tonight would be the beginning of unity between the three Kingdoms, the horrors of war would be put behind them and they would gather their kin and enjoy a feast in the Colonog (the great living-tree that made up the great hall that they were currently within). The hall was filled to the brim with all three of the aforementioned, it spilled out into the various other rooms of the great structure, hidden within the crowd are three select children. Each of the three possessing a great destiny in the future.

[Akito]

"My, what impeccable manners, your son is truly a fine heir,"

"I agree, the Centaur kingdom can rest easy with such a responsible young one next in line,"

"Oh yes, and look at his horns, you just know he'll grow to be a powerful leader - the forest spirits favors him,"

These ladies of the court, from whatever Fey race they hailed, surrounded the young prince and showered him with praises. Scavengers. Each of them eager to curry favor from whilst the boy was still young and naive about the politics and treacheries. And the young prince bore with all these harlots with a smile and the utmost courtesy. Their eagerness to win favor made them easier to control.

The Centaurs had transfigured to a more easily maneuverable form, two legs like the rest. Most of them appeared human this way if not for their pointed, elvish ears and, on the very few, stag-like horns. The prince was no different. His white hair that reminded one of clouds in a clear sky danced as if against a wind - when clearly there were none in the hall. His eyes were a shining amber, flickering with what a fool would perceive as cheerfulness and what a wise man would see as dangerous ambition. A smile was ever constant on the Centaur prince's lips and he spoke with such misguiding joviality. His black robes, contrasting to his pale self, swept as he moved and in its wake, a hundred hearts were made and broken. It was not his aesthetic beauty, for though he was handsome enough there were more beautiful Fey-kin - rather this boy, this heir, had an unnatural charisma to him. Tantalizing - like a nightmare one never wants to wake up from.

However, that nightmare of a prince broke away from the group of vultures, making some excuse and diverting their attention with his attendant. He disappeared into the crowd whereby from the corner of his eyes he spotted his two victims. Victims? Two children, similar to him in age and of Muryan and a Sidhe royalty. They, too, were flanked by zealous would be supporters but unlike him, they seemed less...apt at handling then vultures.

The young prince waited to make eye contact with them, in turn, and tilted his head towards towards the open balcony; a clear invitation out of the hall and away from the nasty politics disguised as a ball. If they quizzically returned a gaze asking how when they were so surrounded, the Centaur prince would merely flash them his best smile. Walking towards that open balcony, he clicked his fingers. In a moment, those surrounding either of the Muryan and Sidhe heirs would find themselves dazed, as if they were under a temporal hypnosis. A simple but effective magic.

The prince would wait for both of them, if they accepted his invitation, on the balcony. His hands placed firmly on the railing and his gaze shifting towards the distant horizon. A cold wind caressed his cheeks and he could feel them turning red as blood hurried to his cheeks to warm him.

It was a nice night to step on the path of dreams.

[lysander]

Jinma...

The young boy held a large hunk of bread, chomping on it expertly. For the last few years his rate of consumption had only been increasing and increasing. And although very little was known about the Sidhe (mostly gossip and other foolishness), when they sent a letter detailing the amount of food they would need for 'their esteemed and respected youth of regal background', the kitchen broke out in a mad sweat. And Jinma had put down several plates of vegetables, meats, and breads just nibbling. The feast hadn't even begun, and his table of snacks was almost half empty. Finishing this loaf he picked up another one.

Jinma...

He was surrounded by politicians, people he didn't much care for because they were too sweet, or people he didn't much care for because they were too strong. Tastes that didn't mix well in his mouth, and because of the woman standing over him with the venomous scowl, he didn't have to bare with them for very long. Instead, most of the Sidhe (noticeably all women) were out and about, socializing. And although their language was so poetic and flowery very few could understand them, they were... charming. Each in their own way. Yet they offered little in the way of cultural information of any sort and were secretive to the skeptic's eye. But tonight no one was a skeptic. Some venison and cabbage, and another piece of bread.

Jinma, tell me what you think.
I dunno, mama. I'm really hungry. The people here try hard enough to please me. But... I dunna. They're weird. They want things, and I don't like 'em. Can I come home soon, mama?

Silence

...Far, far away, the queen of the sidhe was contemplating peace, and it's implications among her brood.

Jinma grumbled, and with his dissatisfaction came a whole new wave of different politicians attempting to coax him towards their favor, and he panicked. Surrounded by the elder figures, the first thing the chubby boy with spiky black hair and two long antenna did when the adults fell back dazed was not look to the centaur in either curiosity or thankfulness. In fact, for a few moments, he didn't acknowledge the centaur's existence, until he was pointed in that direction by his aide.

Funny.

A wicked female voice scoffed through their minds at the boy's attempt to trick one of her own. Even so, the aide ended up pushing Jinma off in the direction of the other boy. He took another two armfuls of food with him, and a pout of immense proportions, and started nibbling on a loaf of bread.

[LEO LION]

“Your daughter is so precious; she’s going to grow into a beautiful queen someday.”

Her thick mousy curls fell down her back and over her shoulders, wispy bangs traipsing across her forehead and two small stubs of bone. Her grey eyes sparkled, though there was no humor or joy in them, perhaps it was something more akin to worry. Her pointed ears peeked out from her thick collection of hair on either side of her face. Like the others she was surrounded by politicians and like the others it wasn’t a pleasant experience. She curtsied; the thick encasing of skirt trapped her legs where she was much more used to trousers and dirt. What Weren in their right mind would want to dress in such stuffy attire?

“Look at those fine grey eyes, the pride of the Wild Folk for sure.”

But politics was a bitter thing, and not something a party should be held over. Yet still, the rumors fluttered about the great hall, Meara was sad for the Colonog, she thought it must be weeping to have so much ill will within it. Even the dalin hanging from the ceiling seemed dimmer than usual in the present company.

“Did you hear about her special power? I hear she gives strength to whoever she stands beside, that’s why her father keeps her so close… he’s worried of losing her.”

“Please, excuse me.” Meara murmured politely, dropping away after giving her questioning father’s hand a reassuring squeeze. The small girl weaved her way through the many groups, her eye had been captured and she was glad to not be the only one her age around here, it would be nice to step away from the stuffy adults and play for a while. She followed through her home, knowing the heart-tree as well as she knew her own body. She moved fluidly as she walked, almost like the water and she stepped lightly past the gatherings of people requesting her attention. To each she nodded and waved them away as any dignitary would, giving a light promise that she would return to be abused by their over-kind comments. She knew what they really meant.

“I bet every prince would love to have her hand, you’ve got your work cut out for yourself as her father.”

Stepping into the cool night air was so refreshing, it was like all the tension from inside, all the talk of warring and peace was sliding away, the thin strings of web releasing her skin as if being washed away by rain. She sighed pleasantly, joining the two males on the spacious – and oddly unoccupied – balcony.

The lands that stretched before them were moors, there were tall standing stones whose dark silhouettes could be seen peeking over the farthest hill, and more immediately they were surrounded by a thin copse of trees that seemed to sprout from the living hall they were standing in. The Colonog was a beautiful structure, seeming to be hand carved with care when it merely grew into each shape. The Kingdom of the Weren was indeed a spectacular thing to behold. The hills, the moors, the forest; its majesty stretched for miles and linked with the bordering Sidhe and Centaur territories. Meara loved her home dearly.

She said nothing as she leaned lightly against the banister, the wood smooth for all its rough appearance. “A-meir,” she started, turning to both the males and giving a curtsey to each. “You are well-met. Welcome to Weir.”

[Akito]

"I will take your welcome wholeheartedly, though I despair at being given such a common commodity - one already given to me at the door," With a sweep of his robes, the Centaur took the princess's hand and brushed his lips against it tenderly. Something she ought be accustomed to, something she must have tired of. It was a meaningless gesture, but was there meaning in returning the princess's equally meaningless gesture with his own?

Releasing the Muryan's hand, the boy gave a wayward glance at his own hand that held hers. It prickled with power before being subsiding. So. The rumors were true. She had a magic that amplified that of others. A useful ability to any army, to be sure. The boy nearly chuckled, so was this the hope the Muryan King would rely on to ensure the safety of his nation? His own daughter? Was this what this grand ball was really about? Showing off what meek military might he had? The fool. Not that the boy's own father was much better.

Though he did not voice it, the Centaur heir avidly disagreed with his father's decision for peace. They had been winning the war, they had been close to a unity far surpassing this congregation of empty well wishes and guised grudges. These people did not like each other, the races that had killed one another for so long suddenly becoming friends? No, it was a shallow pretentious courtesy. Each and everyone of them had lovers, family or friends that had been killed. The Centaurs could've settled it all, the spiral of hatred and resentment. However, a small threat of a possible Muryan-Sidhe alliance was enough to buckle the poor Centaur Sovereign's knees and cow him enough to agree to such a fictitious treaty. That woman...the Sidhe queen, the young heir suspected her to have been the source of it.

Was it the rashness of youth or plain arrogance to led this Centaur prince to hold this much confidence in his race's victory? Whatever the cause, it was hidden deep in his soul and far in his mind to forbid any prying. Yes, for now and for a long time to come, this prince would be an amiable and likable royal who welcomes the new era of peace.

He turned to flash a smile at the Sidhe heir. That woman's son. He was portly and stout, but it was said that that was how the Sidhe oft began their lives before bloom. Though regardless, there was a blankness to the other boy that the Centaur heir did not leave unnoticed.

"Greetings, I am Luciabel Elfanna, the son of Fernando Elfanna. In my lands, I am a prince but before you now, I am but a humble guest in the Colonog..." The pleasantries spluttered from his mouth, and he even performed an extravagant bow to the two of them. A snide snicker followed as the boy ended his charade, he for one had enough of such flowery language in that damn hall of vultures. His was an unpleasant snicker, sounding something between the hissing of a snake and the cackling of firewood. As if to toss such formality, the Centaur prince leaned back again on the railings, stretched and revealed a smile large enough for it to threaten to split his face.

"Though you two brats may call me Luce - so what are your names, babes?"