Closed The Azure Festival

[Madeira Dusk]

88th of Winter, 518

The pious day had set, and now the festivities could truly begin.

The dual nature of Lhavit was on full display as people swapped their reverent prayers for mischievous masks as darkness set. Godly robes were traded for silk and satin and hymns of praise turned into shouts of joy as people flooded the streets. Coloured lanterns and fire dancers and huge bonfires cut great swaths out of the darkness until it seemed the Diamond of Kalea must for tonight be just as bright as the stars they worship. But no stars could make such a racket as this. Musicians played on every street corner, two-bit magicians demonstrated their skills to astonished and vocal crowds, hawkers sold their masks, wine, candies and confections at the top of their voices. Streamers and banners hung from between eaves and above every doorway, and artists lined the streets with dazzling paintings and sculptures that looked half alive in the flickering lights. This was a night of extravagance, to drink and dance and sing the praise of the beloved Alvina that ruled them, while the sky above them was clear and cool and full of stars. It was a perfect night for a masquerade.

Madeira moved dreamlike through the crowds of the Surya Plaza on Zintia, drunk on celebration and a true feeling of home. Goulish masks of beasts and flowers and a parody of human faces passed by, while the scents of spiced rum and caramel candies wove between them like its own separate creature. Somewhere to her left a half-naked dancer on loan from the Spinning Glimmers breathed a great gout of flame that sizzled over her head. She had never seen a party like this, not since Alvadas. Oh, her home city would weave great illustrious illusions for its festivals in celebration of their god. But here that pious fevour was unchanged, only redirected to their starry goddess. Their identity as a city was elegant, extravagant, spirited and creative, and now, she supposed, it was hers too.

But even as she joined the festivities she refused to join the masquerade and its parade of festive anonymity, though she had always loved the sport before. This was her first time attending a Lhavitian celebration and she wanted, no, needed to be seen. Right now she was nothing but a guest in their city, on loan to the Dusk Tower as part of a stipulated alliance with the Cravens of Alvadas. If she wanted to be anything more she had to prove she was not some bought foreigner but one of them now, eating at their tables, attending their fairs, immersed in their culture. So she was going to make sure she was noticed.

A black velvet dress covered her from throat to floor, tight around her pregnant belly and embroidered in sparkling thread in the shape of the stars the Lahvitians so loved. An enormous faceted blue emerald sat in a silver comb in her coiled hair and another in a nest of diamonds around her throat. Her silvery gloves were pristine and her rings and bracelets flashed in hues of black, blue and bone. From her shoulders sprouted a fountain of feathers, her last precious gift from Alvadas. The cloak moved in elegant and unnatural ways, its magic feathers rippling in half a hundred different colours.

Breathing the spiced air, pausing to admire the many performances and browsing the finery on display, Madeira could feel the heartbeat of the city. She was going to meet as many new acquaintances as she could, dance to spite her swollen belly, and drink in the atmosphere of this new home she had found herself. This would be a glorious night.

Peeling back her glove, it took only a pinch of teeth, a scribble of blood and a name for the Spiritist to summon her youngest servant. Emma Chamelle appeared from nowhere with a shiver of cold air, blinking dazedly in the light of another fireball that shot straight over their heads. The little girl was barefoot and dressed in the nightgown she died in. Bouncy brown hair covered a shy face, and her eyes alight with a childish wonder that pulled at the weeping sores that collected around her mouth and corner of her eyes.

"Maddy!" she squealed upon recognizing where they were. "Oh Maddy its so cool!"

Madeira smiled to see little Emma so excited. The poor child didn't get out enough as it was, she would hate for her to miss something so wonderful.

"Emma. I've got a job for you. Are you listening closely?" She leaned over so the two were nose to nose. A sudden drumming beat began to play as a new performance took the firedancer's stage, wielding nothing but percussion instruments. Suddenly the audience began to mould and twist, and the passive observers turned into dancers themselves. A hasty circle of revelry was made as the people inside began to dance to the many beats of the percussion band. Madeira smiled for the ghost, and pinched the girl's cheek with her permanently soulmist-imbuded hand. "I need you to get in there and dance for me."

Emma giggled shrilly, hiding her face in her hands. "What? No!"

"Are you telling me no?" Madeira teased, pinching the other cheek and earning herself a muffled little laugh from the girl. "Just one song, kitten. And I'll be here watching the whole time."

"Then you come to!"

"Perhaps later. Now do as you're told, or I'll tell Raj what a scared little baby you are."

"Am not!"

Madeira raised a brow, her mouth curved into a wicked little smile as a flustered Emma realized she was trapped. The little ghost, now determined to prove she was not a baby, worked up her slow courage and gave Madeira a last pouty look before blinking into the wide dancing circle.

Chuckling to herself, the Spiritist straightened up and stood at the edge of the crowed, watching the nervous little ghost as she bounced in place, her hands open skyward and a shy little smile on her face as she danced in a swirl of soulmist.

x

[Haneht]

88th, Winter 518av

Winter, the season of end, of all things bleak and dreary. Wet. Cold. Or, at the very least, it should have been. With the dissappearance and prolonged absence of its patron goddess, Winter had become more of a lapse in the year than a proper season. Kalea's mountaineous city was more or less unaffected, with its high altitude and consequently freezing temperatures, but the lack of snowfall was a little dissappointing. More so when one had rarely, if not never, witnessed it.

The annual masquerade served plenty of distraction, however, and Haneht was certain things would eventually set themselves right. Earlier in the day, when everyone had been going about fulfilling their fillial duties, Haneht had been bored beyond reasoning, taking refuge within the confines of his estate and the surrounding area. He had no family to share in the Lhavitian culture with, nor an affinity for religion. Tonight, he was to dedicate himself to a thorough indulgence of the celestial city's festivities; a night of fantasy and thrill no sane Lhavitian would ever want to miss out on. With the stars bearing witness, Lhavitian men and women, young and old, were brought together for a night of celebration, hearts soaring as they took to the streets in their finest fabrics and accessories. A myriad of colours brightened the skyglass city like a thousand fragmented lights, completed by Leth's luminance casting an ethereal, almost divine glow over the entirety of Kalea's Diamond. Jovial music saturated the atmosphere, blending into a chorus of voices, gleeful shouts and awestruck gasps escaping crowds as the city's finest performers brought their various arts to life. The streets had transformed into a sea of masked celebrants in a matter of hours, and buzzed with activity as Syna gave way to Leth's prominence. Various scents, of perfumes and confectionery, spices and musks, melded together into an unlikely fragrance that lingered in the cool night air.

Already a few drinks in, Haneht was one of many drawn towards the loud rhythms of percussion instruments, all but glowing as the beats grew in pace and volume. Joining the other festival-goers in the messy circle that had taken form, the brunet fell into a familiar trance and let the pounding and rumbling of instruments guide him along, the very air breathing life into the Eyph. The alcohol that ran beneath his skin spread a warm fire through his veins, easing the tenseness of his muscles and loosening him up just enough to thoroughly enjoy himself. His worries and troubles left him as he entwined himself into the song, twisting and arcing his body and limbs in tandem to the beats. Painting a fantasy with his every step and graceful spin, laying down one stroke after another with a sweeping leg or unfurling arm. Wind tickling at his hair and cheeks as he danced eventually brought his attention to the bareness of it, when instead he could've sworn he'd arrived in an oramented mask just as others had. One that complimented the rest of his dressing; a tasteful, pale blue silken blouse with sleeves long and loose enough to accomodate his dancing, paired with high-waisted pants. From head to toe, he'd unintentionally, but conveniently doused himself in a glittering sheen of mica dust, and his usual cosmetics were worn upon his features.

His cheeks were long aching, from smiling so wide and vibrantly, flushed a healthy pink from all the running about and drinking. The circle of dancers seemed to rotate, slowly but surely, the ring of dancers shifting in a very subtle, gradual migration as they danced their way through the song. Haneht flashed a charming smile, smized every now and then whenever his gaze met another's, sharing in others' delight and enjoyment of the festival until he found himself dancing by one of the younger dancers in the crowd. Little arms trailed down to a little figure, chocolate locks bouncing and swaying with her every petite jump that framed an almost cherubic face.

Almost, were it not for the sores that marred the pale of her skin. And from there, the Eypharian noticed the oddity of her existence, her dressing. The swirl of mist that licked at the air about her, a mystic veil for a mysterious little girl. In spite of the mild gore of her features and the abnormality of it all, Haneht's smile remained, if ever widening as he shared in her enthusiasm with an almost child-like vigour, amber pools watching her with a quiet fascination.

[Savis Maren]

Winter howled its last, crippled cry. A cry drowned out with the strumming of a thousand strings. Music played throughout Zintia as dancers took away from their theatres and troupes and engaged in their festivities. The streets of Lhavit turned to a carousel, lively souls fleeing from the prison of taverns to take in the shining night of Diamond of Kalea. The nuit felt the festivities bleed into her very own soul, with laughter rising from her lips in rhythm.

Lhavit's only nuit was dressed in contrast to the vibrancy of color and creativity she saw flourishing about. About her shoulders clung the silken cape she treasured so dearly. The wind buffeted at the fabric, allowing it to billow in her wake and frustrate her movements. The black silken dress fell into shape about her gaunt frame, tied at the waist with her sash and met at the knee by dark leather boots that completed her ensemble. However, since the previous use of the garment, the nuit added a new piece. Instead of raising her hood, her countenance was cloaked from view in a starkly different manner. A strap held it closed behind her head, with the mesh pressed against her eyes and along the side of her face. Hundreds of masques hid the citizenry of Lhavit from each other, and Savis Maren was no different. Porcelain white spilled over her features, with no holes at the nose or mouth, leaving only her intense, silver eyes to reveal the nature of the wearer.

Savis strode through the streets of Zintia, the song and dance bringing light to her step, and even her movements met with sweeping flourishes before the crowds grew larger and her movements restricted anew. Savis' fingertips danced over the silver pendant she wore at her neck, keeping it concealed beneath her cape rather than showing it off to the public. In a festival of the Lhavitian gods, it seemed in poor taste to brandish the insignia of another, a dark being that Savis Maren knew very little about but received a token of by some miracle of chance.

The swirl of soulmist caught the nuit's attentions first. Then, the visage of a spectral, pale little girl bouncing up and down. The undead knew who it was, and before she allowed her gaze to search for the little ghost's mistress, she remembered. More than a lifetime ago, she recognized the daze and nerves bound on Emma as her own. A little girl caught in a dare, forced to act at the heckling of her peers. That day, Savis had stepped into a shoddy shack, rumored to be haunted by the children of Zeltiva. Today, it was Emma, and the spectacle wrote the reminders of chagrin. The sourness of her expression was hidden beneath her heavy masque and she turned away from the sight of it. A familiar figure caught the nuit's gaze next, multiple arms and a youthful bounce in his presence, Savis approached the familiar figure of Haneht. She tapped the eypharian at the shoulder, keeping her gaze fully averted from the sour spectacle to say to ask,

"Do these old eyes deceive me or is there a dancer not dancing tonight?" The full-faced masque that Savis bore shifted with the grin, and she cast her gaze about after alerting him to her presence, curious where she'd find Emma's mistress. Moreover, she was curious to see what the woman was up to. The ghostly girl was an acquaintance, and one that didn't seem so utterly keen to have every eye upon her. Surely, Madeira Craven had a purpose for this bit of distraction, and she very much wondered what it was, even as she paid Haneht all of the attention he was due. Djed waxed from the depths of the nuit's soul, weaving away from her senses as she sought to connect with the familiar aura of the Spiritist. She searched for the faint smells of blood, the predatory presence that only the accomplished Spiritist had about her. At least, among the people whose aura Savis recognized.

"Perhaps you can teach me how, hmm?" she asked the eypharian, surrendering to the futility of her efforts. Madeira Craven, wherever she was, certainly wasn't close enough for her to find in this chaos of people.

[Madeira Dusk]

OOCThis is still open to join! I'm just posting a little foothold here so a friend can jump in

Madeira watched as the band set a comfortable rhythm and the dance floor spread wider and wider, roping more people into the mess of limbs and stamping feet. But between them all it was hard to lose sight of the little girl who was so unlike the rest. Her weak materialization was patchy and flickering, and from her shroud curled tongues of soulmist that move against wind and movement. The other dancers were giving her a comfortably wide berth, though nobody was about to kick up a fuss about a quiet, well-behaved ghost. Emma, for her part, seemed to be loosening up ever so slightly. Her shy smile became a little wider, her awkward dancing was just as awkward but perhaps a little more enthusiastic too.

Good girl, Madeira smiled privately to herself. Even the people around the girl seemed to be becoming more tolerant of her presence. Or at least one was. It was a graceful young man in blue silk, flushed with drink and covered in glitter so he seemed to shine like the sun in the light of a hundred colorful lanterns. In the press of people Madeira at first didn't notice, but as two, then three then four hands made great, sweeping, glittering arcs in the night sky she realized he had more than the recommended dose of limbs. Eypharian, she realized belatedly. Gods, had it really been a year since she had last saw one of the elusive desert people so far north?

Emma seemed to notice this very attention-stealing stranger too. Madeira saw the girl sneaking looks at him with big brown doe eyes from under a tumble of hair. And was that... was she blushing? No, there was no doubt about it. A bloodless flush was creeping across incorporeal cheeks, and the girl seemed intermitedly fascinated with her feet and the back of the strangers head. Flashbacks of Roland Eir and the looks the ghost used to give the tall, handsome and detestable lout suddenly sprung to mind, and Madeira realized what was happening; the girl was smitten!

The Spiritist fought the need to pinch the bridge of her nose and sigh. This was surely another disaster waiting to happen. Well, she couldn't blame the child, he seemed to have that kind of effect on everyone. She saw a few women and even some men watching with interest as he danced passed. The guy did have a disarmingly jovial kind of charm to him. He looked to be having the time of his life, flashing a wide smile to everyone caught in the quick flicker of his amber eyes. And when it was Madeira's turn to suffer the gaze she shocked herself by answering the brief flash of eye contact with a nervous giggle.

Oh my gods, she roared internally, mortified and hiccupping as she forced herself to swallow the sound. What am I, some blushing virgin?! I bed snakes and monsters! I lost my first kiss to a poisonous Symenestra! How did I turn into to a school girl just because some pretty, sparkly boy looks good in eyeliner?!

Thankfully a woman in a fine ensemble of black silk shuffled up behind the glittery man and the half tick of eye contact she suffered was stolen by a porcelain mask. Was there something familiar about the woman? Madeira suspected something about the build and the tired bend of her shoulders. But this was a masquerade, there were probably dozens of people she would recognize here, and the unnervingly blank mask could be hiding any one of them. She could only glance at the pair from between the heads and shoulders of the other dancers.

The song ended and another one began and Emma didn't seem to notice, focused as she was with the back of the stranger's head. Madeira thought perhaps she should make good on her promise to join her on the dance floor. But what she wanted was to dance with Allister. The kelvic had a strange graceful way about him that made her heart quicken, and she had so few opportunities to dance with her beloved. Yet her bonded was not here, so she had to go with her second and much more inferior option.

This time it was a black ring she pressed to the blood star still under her glove. And with a tick of forehead-creasing concentration and a name, she called the second of her two servants.

Madeira straightened her glove and held it delicately out to her side, not turning to face the sudden chill and the electric flicker of soulmist behind her. Her voice was thin and haughty and entitled, but there was a cheeky smile on her lips.

"Aren't you going to ask your master to dance, Jomi?"

x

[Mauriel]

The Azure Festival
88th of Winter, 518 AV










A swirl of pure joy surrounded Mauriel, as people danced, drank, and performed, sounds of various instruments mixing with occasional excited screams to produce the waterfall of enthusiasm carrying anyone with a Lhavitan bone in their body along into the crowd.

The Ethaefal was dressed in her dichromatic satin dress - its top was pure white, like the snow sorely missing from the scenery, and its bottom in nude color. She thought that it may be too cold, but the crowd was quite dense, active, and drunk, all of the energy literally heating up the air around them. Mauriel decorated her horns with silver necklaces, which produced a soft clanking as she moved, albeit inaudible in the noisy streets. She was wearing her starfire earring, but most notably her face was hidden by an ornate carving of an Okomo, dyed white matching with her dress. Together with her Ethaefal horns, it looked pretty hilarious, if she could say so herself.

She joined the celebratory spirit by being one among many musicians who were performing around the celebration. At first she was in one of the side-streets, forming a kind of a band with a flutist who was also looking to get some easy money from the festival. However, she excused herself when she thought she had seen a glimpse of a familiar abundance of extremities on a boy passing by. Unsurprisingly enough, trying to follow him led her right into the center of attention and celebration, and she could not help chuckling to herself. He was too drunk and carefree to recognize her under her goaty disguise. She hesitated for a bit, standing back and watching him dance. Maybe he'd rather not face ghosts of his past right now, even if it was relatively recent past. After all, she hadn't seen any trace of him ever since the incident and it could very well be that he was avoiding her. Or people in general.

While she was watching, she thought she felt some coldness for a moment, and looking at its source, she saw an odd flicker. She shook her head, thinking she must have been getting fatigued and imagining things. It was a little girl scuttering away towards the dancers. Mauriel kept blinking unsure of what she was seeing. The girl was a very odd little creature, the Ethaefal thought she kept seeing people through her, and she was enveloped by white smoke, leaving traces after her every move. There was something about the girl that brought the image of Savis Maren to her head, though she was unsure what would connect them. The Eypharian took to briefly dancing with the little thing without a second thought, and the girl seemed more than thrilled about the attention.

The bard was hardly aware of what she was doing when she started walking towards him again, but she was cut off by another somewhat familiar figure. Enjoying her own goofy disguise apparently came at a price, she could not recognize most of the people she likely knew, while she herself was still very recognizable by the shape of her horns. However, she could wager a guess that the cloaked figure was somebody who had crossed her mind earlier, purely judging by the eccentric choice of color for the occasion - pitch black.

She started playing her lute as she was walking towards them, struggling a bit to coordinate walking with playing. Her lute was on a strip that went over her shoulder enabling her to manage that decently, but the setup was still meant for standing, or at least she was too inexperienced with walking while playing to do it well. The lute was hardly audible from the percussions surrounding them anyway, but she still tried her best.

"We have come to dance today
Dance today
Dance today
We have come to dance today
All night looong"

At this point she stopped right in front of the odd pair. At the same time, her heart was syncing with the powerful rhythm of the drums and she felt an urge to join the dance herself. She was too afraid of getting carried away and damaging her lute however, so she settled with somewhat rocking her body while she played.

[Jomi]

"Aren't you going to ask your master to dance, Jomi?"

“You say that like I have any choice in the matter." Jomi returned with a heavy dose of snark and a sharp half-smile pulling on the corner of his lips.

Jomi shook off the shock of the unexpected summoning and took the outstretched glove in his own incorporeal hand. The press of the spiritists soulmist imbued body was unexpectantly pleasant. It was the closest thing to the sensation of touch that ghosts were capable of and a secret pleasure for the normally standoffish Kelvic.

The party raged around them as the ghost pulled his master into the crowed and curled his soulmist closer to his core. Packing the etherial mists down and carving greater definition into his body, he made his colours and angles sharper and more prominent. The little ghost girl bounced on her heels and clapped excitedly as Madeira and Jomi joined her in the clearing that had been carved out for the tiny ghost by the nervous partygoers.

Jomi had never been one for crowds and parties, being forced to watch people enjoy the food, drink and physical closeness he'd never experience again was torturous for the spirit. But he was learning to block them out, a skill he'd learned from Emma. Living in delusion had its benefits. He allowed himself to narrow his world down to the three of them, isolated and surrounded by the sea of bodies, and lived in that space. The sweet vibrating hum of a lute filtered through the jovial noise and the ghost isolated the sound, focusing on the beat and the notes.

"We have come to dance today
Dance today
Dance today
We have come to dance today
All night looong"

Jomi dropped his Masters hand and crouched next to Emma. A big smile split his face as he held out his hands to the bouncing ghost child.

"I'm not a very good dancer, and I know you're nervous out here by yourself. So how about we join forces and then we can be the best dancer?"

Jomi raised his arms and scooped up the small girl under her arms, their soulmist activated automatically when in contact with another ghosts soulmist, creating a barrier that allowed the larger ghost to lift her. Jomi concentrated on the activated mists, pushing up against the force of gravity and placing her on his waist. He offered his free arm to Madeira and the three of them began to dance.

The ghost wasn't lying when he said he wasn't a very good dancer. His moments where stuttered and awkward and he only knew Kenashian partnered step dances, so he had to pull Madeira into the awkwardness too. But being a ghost had its benefits. His incorporeal body had density but no mass, so every time he mistimed their steps and stepped on the spiritists toes it could hardly be felt. And every bump of their bodies resulted in only a momentary sway even for the already unsteady front-heavy woman.

As he was leading the woman and child into a spin the ghost happened to see a golden skinned man and a figure covered in black. The familiar flash of silver from the eyes of the mask stopped him in his tracks. The thin wisps of blonde hair and the pale bloodless skin that peeked out of the collar of the cloak hinted at the presence of a Nuit. And there was only one Nuit in Lhavit.

And just like that the delusion was broken. The crowded street came back in focus and the grating sound of raucous drunken laughter and the bright flashing colours suddenly became overwhelming. The ghosts face fell into a scowl and the ghost raised his defences, once again walling himself off from the world.

"Hold the kid, I've got somewhere to be."

Jomi lifted Emma off his hip and offered her to Madeira. His scowl lifted to a mischievous smirk before the ghost vanished.

[Haneht]

88th, Winter 518av

The little princess with a unique presence - like that of a flickering candleflame - was a remarkably adorable dancer, and Haneht stole little glances and sweet smiles at her every now and then. Though much like a child himself, he was incredibly fond of children (and the attention he could so easily attain from them), and the phantom child dancing by him was a particularly curious sight. She seemed to share a similar opinion, for Haneht had noticed her wandering, curious gaze fall on him a little more than others. Playfully, he met her gaze once more and held it, giving a princely bow with arms opened in a grand gesture while one was placed over his heart.

Then his eyes trailed towards a woman she seemed to have some relation or fascination towards. Willowy and thin, with a pallor that might have rivalled even Savis' deathly complexion and perhaps the most extravagantly dressed celebrant Haneht had seen that night. While the wealthier Lhavitians seemed to dress more simply to suit their refined tastes, this one seemed to do the exact opposite. And no mask - a foreigner? Adorned with expensive, sparkling gems and draped in a sparkling, star-embroidered black gown that cradled her swollen belly, the Eypharian's gaze couldn't help but linger a few ticks longer on her. What struck him most was the iridescence of her feathered cloak, exquisitely made and no doubt bearing some magical property. She was deliberately dressed to be noticed, to garner attention and be seen and heard, he noted, meeting her gaze and flashing her a debonair smile. He delighted in the little giggle that she no doubt was mortified to have even heard from herself. Politician? Businesswoman? Haneht had never seen her before - surely someone so well dressed and... flashy, for lack of a better word, wouldn't have gone unnoticed or unspoken of for long.

And attention he would gladly give, Haneht thought, eager to make an acquaintance of her. 'Ah, wait, the girl-'

Before the brunet could tend to his dilemma of choosing between the little fairy or graceful foreigner, a tap of his shoulder stole him from his thoughts once more, and this time he found himself facing a blank mask, brilliant and wisened silver irises shining through the eyes like stars on a dark night. "Savis!" A boyish giggle bubbled out of him as he embraced her, locking her in a firm, eager hug with all six of his arms as he inhaled the familiar - albeit choking - scent of formaldehyde and flowers. Pulling back, he smiled brightly, taking her cold hand in one of his many. "Of course, I'd be glad to. Just in time - the next song's just started. Fancy seeing you here though! A nuit, a ghost... I think there might even be a God tonight," He babbled as he pulled the nuit along gently, brows scrunching as his mind worked to think of something that might accomodate both her inexperience and decreased mobility. "Ooh, there's one you might like. You're light enough, I think, and I can do all the work too. Uh, don't mind the hands." With a smile, he guided her hand to his back, then gently settled his own along the small of her back and waist and led her into a slow revolution around the circle. A simple, but fun enough dance that, in Haneht's earliest memories, had seen him in with his sisters. A little runt with wild hair, spinning in dizzying circles with little queens, in the courtyards of his familial home or their bedchambers. Sometimes in pairs, sometimes in a messy ring of glistening, multi-armed children. "We could hold each other like this, and just dance in circles. Spin, swing each other here and there if you'd like. It doesn't really matter how you dance at a festival," smoothly, he hoisted her by the waist, briefly lifting her to the stars just as his sisters had many times before, "as long as you're having the time of your life." He set her down with a deep exhale, grinning.

"We have come to dance today
All night looong"

"And look! You can do it in a group too," just like that, he reached out and reeled in another unsuspecting celebrant by the arm. Horned, beautifully dressed and bejweled for the night's wonders, carrying a lute that Haneht probably should've been more cautious of.

[Savis Maren]

As the time went on and the nuit watched Emma turn from embarrassment to her usual bubbling self, she allowed her tempers to simmer into nothingness. Always on edge, always suspicious, the nuit allowed memories to grasp the better of her. It didn't hurt that she actually seemed to like the little ghost child. As she watched the little girl be joined by a swollen, masked women and the familiar visage of the ghost Savis disliked most of all, she turned towards Haneht and made that utterance.

Haneht noticed her immediately, of course, and his endearing childish giggles burst from his lips before he did something that Savis Maren never would have expected. Six long arms spread out before the nuit even thought to draw back. Her sluggish reflexes had her at the eypharian's mercy when he threw his arms around her. If there was one moment among so very many that she was grateful for her nature, it was then. Fever spilled into the Nuit's mind, and certainly, if she wore living flesh, it'd settle in fervor across her expression. But, alas, the Nuit only felt utter surprise stammer at her words as she heard the child inhale her astringent scent, then draw away.

Savis Maren stood there for a moment, her piercing silver eyes wide with utter shock. Shock that went entirely ignored, it seemed, for Haneht pulled her in, taking up her offer immediately before she could muster up the will to say that she'd been kidding. The undead mage braved the world outside of Lhavit for nearly nine decades, she'd plunged headfirst into the realm of the arcane... Savis Maren had brought life to things that had no business living and yet in all of her years, it was a simple hug that undid the nuit.

The Eypharian pulled the Nuit along into a dance, and a hand set along the small of her back and the slender curve of her borrowed body. Savis Maren felt uncertainty awash within her soul, a flurry of the senses she was neither opposed to nor in the slightest bit ready for. The 'next song' picked up its rhythm, the pulse of the drum accompanied by the strumming of the lute. Singing echoed in the darkness of night, and the light of Leth brought along a feverish joy that the nuit so seldom experienced. Savis Maren joined Haneht Re Ahnatep in a dance, her feet taking her slowly through the circle, following the Eypharian's lead as her hands settled on his waist in turn.

The nuit was grateful for his instruction, but didn't dare look up at his face. The nuit's own features were surely set in a flurry of foreign emotion, coursed between the joy of the lighthearted evening and the deeply uncomfortable proximity that the living child bore to her for so very long. The mixture might settle on her visage as curiosity, or happiness, or scorn. Perhaps it was a mixture of the three as she at last mustered up the will to speak.

"So... this is dancing," she said, feeling very much a fool in the dark. She shambled along with the young man until six hands pressed along the sides of her body, gathered together at the waist. Then, he lifted her incredibly light form, whittled away of muscle and fat alike... into the air. Panic threatened to encompass her as her skeletal arms clung to the golden flesh of Haneht's forearms. Her legs hung limply, her feet twitching with the absence of firm earth to keep her in suspension. She looked up for the barest of moments before she heard the hauntingly familiar sounds of the young Ethaefal, Mauriel. A chuckle, shaky and flustered, escaped Savis' lips as Haneht reeled in the third to their little grouping.

Savis Maren at last found her rhyhtm, relaxing with the night and allowing easy, copious laughter to fill her lips as she nodded at Mauriel, winking at the Lethaefal. Accustomed now, the world around Savis returned to her. Her feet carried her in awkward turnabouts, clumsy footfalls surely sniping at the eypharian's toes as a vaguely apologetic expression sought to excuse her from retribution. In the distance, the horrid ghost vanished away from his pregnant master and curious, erratic companion-in-servitude and Savis Maren was none the wiser. She'd craved, for the longest time, a semblance of normalcy and she basked in it, the discomfort of the new and unknown driven aside by the mutual enjoyment to be found in the presence of...

Friends.

[Mauriel]

As she strummed the lute, Mauriel caught a glimpse of another creature akin to the little girl, enveloped in the same white smoke. She never saw such creatures and was somewhat curious, but was wrapped up in this now. She did also know better than to ask people what they are, being on the receiving end of the question herself. Not that it bothered her much, it was a great opportunity to share what she remembered of her culture as Akvatari or about Leth, but she realized it was somewhat unpleasant for your race to always be the first thing people notice.

As she approached the two figures now dancing slowly she thought she might know both of them after all. Two pairs of silver eyes locked for a moment, and Mauriel thought she knew who the other pair must have belonged to. The familiar stink of chemicals and a subtle sniff of the body they were meant to preserve confirmed it.

Before she could muster any sort of a greeting for either of her friends, she was yanked into the circle to join their dance. She quickly turned her lute around, making it hang off her back rather than the front so it wouldn't get between her and the other dancers. While Savis smelled to strong for Mauriel to catch any sort of whiff of Haneht, just by looking at the boy she imagined the alcoholic scent he must give off. His face was flushed, the widest smile Mauriel had ever seen painted over it. She instinctively smiled back, turning to Savis who seemed to have recognized her as well, and returning her wink.

The Ethaefal didn't know how to dance herself. She was happy to follow the slow swinging movements of the two of her partners, though the music made her want to go wild. She placed her hands on both of her partner's waists, forming a full circle, and moved around a bit awkwardly. Savis also seemed inexperienced with this, or at the very least her body didn't allow her to show any prowess she might have had, and the two of them were a bit comically out of synch, leaving Haneht to salvage what he could of their public image. The bard's feet instinctively wanted to follow the fast rhythm of the music, and that's what they occasionally did. However, she wasn't too wrapped up in overthinking the impression she was leaving. Maybe it was the mask concealing her identity, or perhaps the euphoria of the celebration, or maybe she grew out of her vanity a little bit, but either way she was in the moment, happy, free.

She quickly recognized the weird way in which dancing made one feel freedom in an embodied sense. Her mind wanted to do something, and her body followed, the only resistance being her self-consciousness and skill. Every step made her filled empowered, feel in charge, feel like herself, like she was expressing something dormant within her being, somewhat animalistic, but also artistic. And just like that, she wanted desperately to practice until all of the little moments of disconnect between her mind and body that broke her immersion in this beautiful feeling were gone for good, and she could submerge herself fully in these surreal sensations.

[Jomi]

Jomi watched the trio spin in unison in the cobbled plaza. He himself hovered, dematerialized and invisible, mer steps away from the merrymaking. Dancers and drunkards stumbled in shock when they unknowingly passed through the ghosts freezing shroud, but he didn't pay them any mind. He had blinked over to the two, now three, dancers with the idea to interrupt the rather detestable Nuits good time. But had predictable gotten sidetracked and now had his eyes focused on the rather absurd amount of arms the golden skinned man possessed.

The ghost had seen a lot in his travels and was familiar with most of the races present. Madeira and Savis had shown him more than he had ever wanted to know about the undead races. And he knew that woman that danced along side the corpse was a Ethaefal , who was just as much of an impossible ethereal beauty as the first three he had the luck of meeting. Yet the man was something he had never seen and stole the curiosity of the ill-tempered badger. Who immediately tried to fit the man into what worldly knowledge he already had.

Spider Kelvic? Are there Kelvic bugs?

Jomi's shroud shivered and contorted as the Ghost shook himself violently to dislodge the thought. He needed to focus, there was a non-zero chance his Master would be suspicious of his absence and start looking for him. And her being a masterful spiritist meant he only had as long as it took for the pregnant woman to waddle over to him, even if he were to stay invisible.

The trio would feel the subtle prickle of electricity as the ghost slid up behind them. The Eth's horns caught the light of the festive lanterns, casting brilliant prisms throughout the delicate, glass-like material. The mesmerized ghost moved to caress the glass crown with his soulmist before the woman spun out of reach. Jomi looked on dejectedly as the godlike creature laughed and sang in the arms of the spider man. Slowly sinking into a dark pit of self pity as he eyed the unnecessary amount of arms that held the two women by the back and waist.

No sooner had the observation been made before the idea bloomed in his mind. A wicked smile cut unseen across his wide mouth, and his eyes danced with mischief. What could give him a faint taste of the beauty he could not truly touch, and what could ruining that blissful peace on Savis' face? Why a stone for two birds, that's what.

Jomi ducked beneath the spinning bodies and collected on the ground beneath their feet as a sheet of fog. As the dancers made another pass the ghost blinked up and collided viciously with the unwitting soul of the spider man. Rather than fighting for dominance for his hosts entire body, the ghost focused his energy and soulmist and fought his way into the man's lower two arms. He saturated the muscles and tendons with his essence and isolated the threads of his astral body. Puppeting the threads he braced himself and raised his defences, preparing for a battle of wills with his host.

The women would notice a tightening of the muscles in the arms that braced against their backs, before the lower two slid down to grab a fistful of each of their asses.