banquet of the dreamer

[Chiaja]

fall 47 512av, night (sleeping.) She awoke in a red velvet chair. A large crane daintily picked up a teapot and poured her a cup of the steaming, herbal liquid, while a golden harp played itself in the corner with its long, golden arms. Pale white snow and down feathers fell from the ceiling that went on forever, landing gently on any surface except the large, steaming feast laid out before her. All around her was a palace ballroom of ice, carvings and pictures etched into the floor that slowly transitioned into a desert ballroom that rivaled the palace of the Pressorah, covered in tiled pictures and exotic plants. She was in her celestial form, horns curving from her temples and skin resembling the snow itself. She had only seen snow once before, during a rare hikzu that brought it with the seasonal hail. Chiaja was dressed in an unnecessarily large dress, made of brocade and silk and lace and any other fabric she could imagine, and covered in beaded hearts of silver. Yet, it was as light as a crow's feather and unlike anything else she had worn before. Across from her, in the Eyktolian part of the room, sat a sleeping girl, dressed not unlike herself, with dark hair and caramel skin. As she sipped tea finer than any botanist or herbalist in Ahnatep could make, large, three-pronged candlesticks refilled her cup and tall, skinny cranes poured honey to sweeten the already exceptional beverage.

[Druna]

Music played softly in her ears, bringing a whimsical emotion to the surface. A small smile played on her lips as she sat up and stretched, sleep not yet loosening its grip. Her arms reached above her head, turning her hands in the air daintily. As she awoke, Druna stretched her neck to each side, her long dark hair falling softly over each shoulder, shaking the sleepiness away she let out a soft sigh. Lowering her arms to the side, she felt the softest fabric she ever felt brush against her bare arms. The fabric so soft it felt as if a baby was breathing lightly against her skin. Opening her eyes she looked down at herself. Never would she had guessed that she wore clothes, let alone a dress of beauty such as she wore now. Silver in color, with silver bead work in shapes of hearts. It had no sleaves and a tight corset top with a full ball gown skirt. The skirt so full one would think the gown weighed tons, only it was so light, if Druna didn't see it with her own eyes and felt it with her own hands, she would of believed she were naked. She marveled at her dress to only have a feather of scarlet red land on her lap. Picking the feather up she looked at her surroundings. "This isn't possible...." her voice came out soft as the down she held in her hand. Her dark blue eyes shined like sapphires as she looked at the exotic palace. Never had she seen such warmth and beauty. Golden pillars rose from the ground to the sky, exotic greenery, and snow mixed with feathers of scarlet, black, and white. Laying out her hand she let the soft white flakes bless her skin. Wonderment was evident on Drunas face as candle Stick holding a tea pot of gold walked to where she sat. Poring a steaming cup of tea into a golden cup that sat on a like color table. Druna watched the candle stick, curiosity in her eyes. With out thinking she poked it expecting it to vanish, only to contact cold metal. The candle stick crossed its arms, or what one would consider arms, and she imagined it giving her a frowning look. Her eyes widened as she pulled her hand away and mumbled "Sorry..." As the candle stick retreated she looked around the back of the chair she sat in. Behind her large birds with long necks and legs gathered, bringing out trays of gold and silver patters. Raising an eye brow she looked back at the table, glancing down its long planks to the other side of the room, where the frost of Avanthal arose.Their sat a girl with horns of greens, yellows and blues. She was stunning, wearing an alike dress. of silver, Druna was sure her face mirrored the same wonderment and ahh that this girl wore. The girl sat staring back at her with a single cup in front of her. She could see the steam rising from the golden cup. Smiling, an not knowing what else to do, she gently picked up her tea cup and raised to the girl. "A drink...to...to company?"

[Chiaja]

She raised her steaming cup of tea to the newly awoken girl. She spoke, an unfamiliar language that she could still understand. It was melodic, lyrical, and sounded like a wintry north where time was spent singing. The Benshira often sang, but their language sounded more like the sandy deserts of Eyktol. "To company." A feather landed on her lap as cranes and candlesticks alike brought out platter by platter of steaming food. There were hardy stews and translucent soups, common fish and those of a more exotic variety, caught off the coast of the Suvan or in the unforgiving north. There was a large hog, roasted and seasoned at the center of the table, and the more common fare of goat and chicken. Her mouth watered at the sight of roasted peacock, an incredible delicacy she had only heard of. Common bread was replaced with the kind made of all kinds of grain, those known and unknown, and deep red wine in tall, fluted glass cups was being served alongside the tea. The snow and feathers seemed to avoid the food and drink, instead falling gently to the table as if Zulrav's breezes were blowing them away. The servants seemed to know what she wanted and served her accordingly, placing large cuts of peacock and salmon on her plate. Purple plums and dates were placed alongside strawberries and pomegranates. A bottle of wine poured itself into a glass and it wobbled over to her. The finest silverware - more gold than actual silver - fell from the ceiling and onto the table beside her golden plate. She started by nibbling on the sweet fruit, making her fingers sticky, only to be cleaned off by a candlestick when she finished a strawberry.

[Druna]

Druna watched as the candle sticks and birds alike brought platter after platter of delectable foods. Her mouth watered as the smells assaulted her sences. Her eyes grew as precious metal tablewear fell from the sky, landing perfectly in front of her. A napkin was gently folded in her lap by invisible hands, Druna looked around in shock. "Did you see that?! It just..just folded!! All by its self!?" confusion yet awe saturated her voice. As the food piled up on the golden table, birds served the Kelvic. Large servings of Fish and lamb. The sweetest carrots that Druna ever tasted. Even moist cake. Druna couldn't help but engorged her self..only never feeling full. "All this just for us!?" She spoke as wine refilled itself full. The grapes of the wine must of been picked at the height of season. Then only the finest made into the red liquid. "A feast like this would feed my whole city for years!" She sipped the wine and smiled. Music started to take a more upbeat tune, Druna watched the harp and what seemed like an invisible orchestra, play the song. She couldn't help but tap her fingers along the beat of the catchy music. Ghostly figures walked through the walls. Gathering on the floor as they started to dance. They moved seemingly along the floor, keeping with the tempo of the song. Druna watching with utter amazement as they paired up and danced. She smiled as she watch one break away from the figures and approched her. The misty man stretched his hand outward, palm up, bending at the waist. Druna slipped her hand into its, it was solid yet he was nothing but mist. Yet again her face wore that of amazement. "A dance" it said in her head. his voice sounding oddly familiar. "A dance..." she repeated as her chair slid back by itself, and she stood to walk with the mist to a dance floor.

[Chiaja]

Just as she was watching the other girl join a mist-man in a dance, she was joined by her own. But he had many arms - six, in fact. Six misty arms that swept her up for a dance. The harp was playing a waltz, a ballroom dance. His face was never formed, just a misty placement of eyes, mouth, nose. Short hair, or what must be hair, and basic expressions. This wasn't any music she'd heard before. Other ghostly figures joined the dance, spinning around the ballroom. The table disappeared, and now there was a black and white checked floor like a chessboard. Her dress didn't get in the way at all, and despite her lack of dance skill, she could dance. She didn't trip over shoes or hems or other people. It was silver feathers now falling, landing in her hair and on her dress. The sky was full of every constellation she could name and others she couldn't, with Pyxis sparkling in the corner. Her favorite.

[Vaewe]

There was only mist before his eyes. It was heavy, soft and grey and nearly obscured the young woman in front of him. It reminded him of winter on Mura when the fog and ice made the island as pale as the women who lived there. His mind floated about the city, slowly following him through the haze until it caught up to the young akvatari. His eyes opened wider. There were stars spinning behind the woman’s head. But, who was this woman in front of him? She was not a Konti, nor an Eypharian. He had never seen her before. Yet he was in her arms, his hand was on her back, hers rested lightly on his shoulder and… And nothing was supporting him. He was suspended in the air, in this young lady’s arms. Shock and instinct told Vaewe to fly. The moment he beat his pale wings the mist dispersed. Several of the couples who had been dancing nearby were dissipated with tones that indicated Vaewe’s conduct was less than satisfactory. Vaewe found himself in a sea of mist, each dancer looking scornfully down their nose as they twirled past him. But he was not himself, or, was not how he had left himself in the evening. On his arms were bands of gold and silver, upon each were etched minute scenes. Serpents curled about clutches of sapphire eggs and falcons beat their wings in cloudless skies illuminated by miniature ruby suns. The images seemed to move as the last of the mist cleared around Vaewe. The arm bands were not the only decorations Vaewe had earned. From his neck hung a Crown of Leth, made from silver inlaid with ivory. His hair was strung with silken threads, some of which held glass beads, but most of which were simply brilliant hues of purple and red, of a tone he had never been able to obtain in any dye. The akvatari had little time to admire his new ornaments though, for he was still holding the young woman’s hand and had his other arm about her waist. Her hair and figure seemed undisturbed by the motion of his quickly beating wings. She was lovely.

[Kirvan Deepseeker]

It had been days. Eyes straining, Kirvan tried his hardest to see through the thick mist that sat around him like a blanket of blubber. Ever since the fog had engulfed him while sailing a few days ago, the lone Svefra couldn't even see the length of his boat. One hand always on the tiller, the other always on the boomvang, he struggled to steer in a straight course, hoping to get out of this mess by sailing straight through it. Why was he sailing through here? Honestly, he wasn't quite sure, though a vague feeling was urging him on, telling him that Leisa was on the other side of this mist, waiting for him if he could just get through. Was it Syliras through this mist, or had the Inarta finally left the city? He didn't care. He just wanted to see her again, which was why he remained vigil for any signs that the mist was receding. After what felt like bells, the casinor suddenly ground to a halt, the wooden hull resting against something solid. Land! Even if the fog still swarmed him, at least Kirvan knew he was making progress. Dropping both the tiller and the boomvang and not even bothering to reef the sails, the Svefra grabbed the side of his boat and leapt over onto what he thought was a beach. When he landed however, his feet banged against something cold and hard as stone, not anything like the soft cool sand of a shore. Wherever this was, it wasn't a beach. With that realization, the mist finally began to swirl and twirl away, revealing... what the petch? Somehow, Kirvan's casinor had ended up smack in the center of the magnificent ballroom, the wooden craft someone out of place in the grand stone and verdant greenery and brilliant snowflakes - and away from the water. The white sail kind of blended with the snowflakes though, which began to coat the wooden deck with a nice thin blanket of white. Music was coming from the room itself, and the mist had become numerous couples all dancing the same slow movements. Human shapes were now clearly defined in the now-dispersed fog, a few turning to face him then turning away, as if a boat materializing in the center of their ballroom was an everyday occurrence. With the change of scenery came a change of dress, which Kirvan discovered as he looked down at himself. His rough sailor's attire of rough browns and whites had transformed into an elegant set of vestments of rich blue velvet and turquoise frills and hems, reminiscent of the sea. Intricate patterns were inlaid with gold thread, and the cloth was soft to the touch. Hanging from his neck was Leisa's necklace of glass beads, except the cord had somehow transmuted into silver, maybe even platinum, and the glass hanging from it seemed to magnify the majesty hundredfold. What were once sailor's clogs were now fine dancing shoes, a little uncomfortable but he was quickly getting used to them. His shoulder-length blond hair was combed back and fell behind his head in a straight do, and on his head was a band of coral blue with a trident etched into the forehead - the symbol of the Sea Father. "What the bloody shyke is going on?" Kirvan asked rhetorically, looking at himself as if it were someone else's body. But no, it was his; the scars were still there, but the callouses on his hands from working the ship lines for days straight had faded to the smoothest skin Kirvan had ever had - not felt, Leisa still took that award. Whatever had happened, it wanted him to look good.