The Engagement Ceremony of Viatorus and Ingirun

[votivescholars]

Welcome to the world of the Durants...

Guests from the Nexus are met by an Isidor who is still dressed for business when she PINpoints them directly to the venue. She is on a mission and pleasantries are swiftly exchanged so that she can give instructions and explain how the day is going to go. The first thing to hit them is that it's hot, and bright. They are now in France, Isidor tells them, her narrative changes appropriately as she leads them from the small stone building, through immaculate gardens and towards a sprawling palace which she insists is small for what it is. This is the home of Gnonyma Durant, her grandmother. A 17th Century French palace once owned by royalty but was gifted to her family as thanks for 'a service' which Isidor says was so private that even the mage's journal doesn't detail what it was. 

The air is dry and still, which makes the cool shade of indoors a pleasant relief. Like the ornate facade, the interior of the building is lined with intricate mouldings; decorated with impressive portraits; painted in bright, colourful shades; and filled with flowers and draping fabric. There is plenty of space, a fact emphasised by tiled floors that amplify each step and word. It looks as though almost every room is being used, from the way all the doors are held open for the steady flow of traffic. They are, however, let through the building and out another door. It's the quickest way to where seats sit lined up to face a gazebo decorated with ribbons and flowers that stands in front of a pond that might as well be a lake. Some people might notice the air above them ripple slightly, which certainly has nothing to do with the perfectly ornate poles at each corner of the seating area. 

There are already plenty of people milling about. Servants stride from one place to another, expertly staying out of the way of the guests. There are some men and women who are dressed well for the occasion, but like the servants they stay out of the way and scan the area repeatedly, making no attempts to engage with the guests - security, judging by their earpieces. Members of the Durant family are easy to spot. They move in groups or pairs, often getting headed off by people looking to talk to them. A large majority of them also sport sashes of either red or purple with gold trim and ornate pins that vary from person to person. This, Isidor explains, is how you spot a patron and an accomplished scholar, based on the red or purple respectively. Viatorus is not yet an accomplished scholar, which is why they have no sashes. Members of Runa's family are equally easy to spot for those that know her. They would be the large group of tall, golden haired men and women with the distinctive Swedish accents happily talking to anyone and everyone.

After guiding them to their seats she tells them that the ceremony will be another twenty minutes and takes her leave to go and sort out the other numerous things on her endless list. Nobody bothers them while they wait. Everyone is too busy spotting old friends or making their way to their seats. It's a good time to enjoy the scenery. There is a small collection of musicians with harps, violins and flutes to one side. Even the breeze is smelling sweet with the perfume of the bouquets.

Within fifteen minutes Viatorus appears in a tailored suit of light grey and deep purple. He is closely followed by an older, stocky looking man in a black suit and purple tie, and sporting a red and black sash that is even more ornate than any others. Whatever the man is saying to him Viatorus barely gets more of a wave of recognition in to his friends before he's being guided to the gazebo and kept there. Shortly after he's joined by a young man and two women with tanned skin and black hair dressed in simple, but high quality clothes of purple, draping fabric. They look as serious as the man beside Viatorus. That is about the time Isidor reappears in more appropriate attire. She in turn heralds the appearance of a woman who shares her features, dressed in elegant gold and black, who is accompanied by a man whose black suit and purple tie are considerably more simple than his purple sash. Its intricacy matches that of the red one worn by the man standing next to Viatorus. The mood seems to shift at the appearance of these last two guests, becoming quieter, expectant. The Durants gather together, and Viatorus' fidgeting increases tenfold as they exchange words. The men with the sashes and the woman in gold take their seats, many of the guests follow suit.

The ceremony begins...

The young man in purple walks with his staff to stand at the head of the aisle and asks that everyone takes their seats. Exactly twenty minutes after the Nexus guests were shown their seats, the ceremony begins. The young man introduces himself as the high priest of Despoina and welcomes them to the union of the two families Durant and Nyström. As it is a ceremony to mark the union of two families with two sets of tradition and two sets of gods to honour, this will be a merging of these two cultures. It will be a handfasting ceremony of the Old Ways, he explains. This means that the couple will be as man and wife for a year and a day, and after that time they must choose if they wish to marry or separate. The guests now better informed, the priest stands back under the gazebo where a nervous Viatorus and patient Isidor stand waiting. On cue, the musicians start playing unfamiliar, but pleasant music to introduce the arrival of Ingirun dressed in white and accompanied by a rounded, red cheeked man, and followed by a woman who must certainly be one of her sisters. Once she was beside Viatorus, Ingirun's father sat down and the ceremony began. 

The priest talked of uniting the two families, naming the virtues of both, as he got the bride-and-groom-to-be to hold hands which he bound in ribbons. He then took them through their vows before invoking the gods and goddesses to bless the union. The mixture of Greek and Norse deities made for a complicated blessing that might have been compared to seeking the approval of two powerful families. With wishes given, the priest unwrapped their hands and had the betrothed drink from the same cup. All in all it was a short ceremony as ceremonies go. A few more blessings were given and then the couple were prompted to kiss to seal the pact, which a bright red Viatorus did, very timidly. Luckily that only made Runa beam more brightly than she already was.

Dinner was in a large hall with close family at the head of the room and everyone else seated at round tables. Every position was carefully chosen, of course. The inevitable speeches came from the father of the bride (who rambled joyously about how happy he was to see his daughter with such a fine young man) and the mother of the groom (who gently, warmly, welcomed Runa into the family and spoke of how proud she and his father were). Drinks were plentiful, as were the courses. There were six in total with a selection of each: Appetisers, soup, fish, the main course, dessert, and a palate cleanser. No one will be going hungry tonight, that's a certainty.

After dinner it's Isidor who stands to say a few last words. She thanks everyone for coming and instructs them to enjoy the evening and all the festivities which "will go on at least until dawn". With that, guests are bid to go and enjoy the entertainment filling the palace.

And now for the party...

There isn't a single place that isn't being used for the party. The gardens have pleasant music playing in them, chairs and tables laid out  with cushions and blankets for people to lounge in. One of the largest halls is set out for dancers and their spectators to enjoy live musicians that will play ballroom music for the first part of the evening and be replaced by a band that plays modern music for the second. There is a small room of bookshelves and leather armchairs where men congregate to sip whiskey. Rooms with couches and chairs have people moving in and out of them joining and starting conversations. The priest tends to three statues of goddesses that stand at the end of one room. Here he collects gifts and offerings for the couple's happy future. A man with a perfect smile enthralls a crowd with stories that are only exciting because of the way he tells them. A demure woman facilitates a conversation between straight backed men with chiseled features and shorter tanned men who look equally as disciplined. Servants are found throughout, bringing drinks and snacks to anyone who asks or so much as looks as if they're considering either.

((Feel free to backtag, threadhop, start threads, look for more NPCs, whatever you like! If you're unsure of something, looking for more details, or want to plot then you know the drill - Send a message my way and we'll chat!

Note about gifts: It will say on your character's invitation that gifts are optional and it is suggested that a gift to the gods/goddesses would be more than suitable instead.))

✣ · ✣ · ✣ · ✣

The Nyströms  |   Hephaestia  |  The Archon, Liselotte & Stathis  | The Priest  | Oraskis - The Seer  
Lieselotte or Stathis  |  Poenia & Sagyne  |  Harrowheart & Anna  |  Adia  | Felix & Jim | Evening Event | Isidor | Klaus

 

Comments

[conjuredskies]

Felix hasn't been avoiding the death knight since Jim pointed him out. On the contrary, the conjurer finds himself glancing back across the room a few times, seeking out Harrow's figure in the gently mingling crowd. He supposes he does want to know how his handiwork has held up. Though that's... possibly not a conversation to have in earshot of Jim. Or the woman accompanying Harrow (Mara, but Felix hopes she's not his date). Hmm.

He circles around for a bit while he decides on how to make his approach, peeking at Harrow over the shoulder of a particularly curious Earth mage while the latter talks. There's something different about... well, about Harrow. Something off. He can't put his finger on it. It's not just the outfit, he's sure. He might as well say hello, though after their last meeting the prospect makes his hands twinge sort of nervously...

Oh, Stendarr, he's being an idiot. Felix nearly slaps himself. Look at him! He's dithering like it's the first time he walked up to Indara Carvain. Over Harrowheart? That's it. Better get on with this so he can go find Jim already.

It only takes a minute or so to divert his curious conversation partner Anna's way. ("I understand that young lady is from another plane entirely. I'm sure she would give you quite a different perspective.") He's forgotten what the man was trying to talk to him about but it doesn't matter very much. He strolls Harrow's way with determined idleness, still puzzling over what's nagging him. His smile when he catches the death knight's eye is quick and polite. He may be well-dressed, but it looks like maybe the conjurer hasn't been getting enough rest lately. And there's still a feminine fire elemental following him around, a few undelivered gifts in her arms as she skates gracefully above the floor.

"Good evening, Harrowheart. It's good to see you looking well- I heard..." Wait. Is that- is that a sword at Harrow's back? His eyebrows shoot up. What's going on here? He assumed Harrow would leave his axes elsewhere; their absence didn't strike him as too odd. But carrying a sword instead? It's not as if he needs it here! His stare lasts a few seconds before he blinks, gives Harrow a questioning frown. "...Heard you were injured in the battle."

[westfallcorndog]

Now, earlier in the party Harrowheart had sworn he heard the voice of Jim Kirk, which surprised him at the time. He'd gone to Viatorus' birthday party the year before, of course, but were they friends? In scanning the crowd for him something more interesting caught his eye – he had brought Felix. Or maybe it was more logical to say that Felix had brought him? He couldn't be sure, but it seemed to make more sense. Felix was a mage, after all. Viatorus or Isidor must have met him in their travels through the Nexus.

Still, he doesn't want to intrude. He and Felix aren't that close, and Felix didn't strike him as the sort of man who would want a draugr chatting him up at a fancy party like this. And look at him, he's so... Diplomatic. Rubbing elbows with the rich and succeeding at it with such ease. No, he decides, it would be better to leave him to his reputation-building in peace.

So when the mage approaches him he's understandably surprised. He smiles for him, of course, but there's a hint of confusion in it that only grows when Felix pauses mid-sentence to have his own moment of surprise. He hesitates before he eventually nods.

"I was, but I heal easy."

Felix.

"Got in a fight with one of that Khan guy's soldiers."

You know what's on his back, Felix.

"She was a real quick thing, but I don't think she ever fought against magic."

A power you are familiar with.

"Poked me up real good, got me in the neck a lot. Popped my eye out, too, but that's back now, of course."

A power which is familiar with you.

"I beat her pretty quick, though, and resurrected her body under my control."

A power which calls to you, Felix...

"But I guess that made that Khan guy pretty mad, 'cause when he saw her like that he drenched me in all sorts of that acid blood. Melted half my damn face off. Got my runeblades, too. One of 'em was totally destroyed, so the forgemasters in Acherus had to reforge 'em."

Ask to see them, Felix. Look at what they are now, and know them again...

"So you were there, too? You look pretty good. Kept safe through it all, I guess?"

[conjuredskies]

Felix seems a bit distracted while Harrow talks. He nods patiently enough, but internally he's impatient to get to the details he cares about. There isn't even a distasteful look at mention of the resurrected thrall. Gradually he's becoming aware that the feel of power around Harrowheart has a very definite source - a source he knows quite well indeed. When he turns his attention that way it's like meeting an unseen stare that's been on him all along. He couldn't sense their presence half so clearly before, could he? But of course he knows the feel of it now... wait, what did Harrowheart just say?

He frowns again- and then his smile turns a little frosty at that last question, his eyes narrowing for a second. Then he shrugs. "I was lucky enough to avoid catching his attention, but I had my own part to play. Orders to take care of the citizens. You know how it is."

He didn't have the strength to go charging into that battle. He's explained that before. On the field he'd only have given Khan a vital target. He's tired of explaining these things to people who don't understand and he's not in the mood to explain to Harrow that he couldn't shrug off such an assault the way some people can...

More-or-less, anyway. His eyes flick to the hilt at Harrow's back, then to the death knight. His voice is low as he changes the subject, troubled. "What do you mean, 'reforged'? Is the binding...? Has the pact held?"

He has to see. He has to know. He has... to be sure that his work has held up.

[westfallcorndog]

Now now, Felix, none of those negative thoughts were necessary. When he tells Harrowheart that he helped civilians, Harrowheart accepts it with a serious nod and a grateful sort of smile. "That was real good of you," he says, "Helpin' out folks who couldn't help themselves. Civilians never know what to do in a battle like that. They scramble all over, and then certain bad folks have a real fun time chasin' 'em down and catchin' 'em." He chuckles quietly like that's some kind of joke. And maybe it is, to him, because he's got a strange sort of distant, knowing look on his face.

He sobers quickly and leans in when Felix's voice lowers. "Reforged," Harrowheart whispers back, "As in forged again."

Rather than tell, he might as well show. He reaches onto his back and draws his weapon from its scabbard. When it's exposed to the world once again it sighs, a hushed and drawn-out breathy sound that... No, it must have been the blade scraping against the leather. Right?

He holds it flat in his palms in front of Felix to show off the way the eyes of the skull are fiercely blazing to bright blue life. Around Felix the blade knows it doesn't have to be shy, and so it makes no pretense to hide the river of souls that flow between its two prongs. Now and then the vague shape of a wailing face pierces through the blue stream, but their suffering is always short-lived, as the flow never ceases.

"I don't know if the binding's still in place," Harrowheart admits. "It ain't been long that they've been like this. I really haven't had time to put 'em down. Do you think you can tell if it's still in place? Or will I have to find out the hard way?"

[conjuredskies]

"...Indeed." His gaze flicks back to Harrow's face for a moment there, either noting the look on the death knight's face or thinking back to his own encounter with opportunistic villains.

All thoughts are swiftly abandoned at the sheer anticipation he feels when Harrowheart reaches back for the hilt. He can feel his heartbeat jump, the tingling of his palms, hairs at the back of his neck standing on end at the strange sigh of steel against leather. He almost fancies he can feel it- but that's nerves, surely? The last time he faced this blade - these blades - he barely managed to avoid disaster.

But he did, of course. He matched them. Won them over to his offer. How could he not feel a little victorious thrill at seeing them again?

It's a pretty confusing mix of feelings to experience as he looks into those burning eyes. He's focused on keeping his expression neutral, but he swallows a little as his eyes shift to the shimmer of a tormented soul down the center. That's not an illusion. He knows it on a gut level.

"...Very impressive." As broadswords go, anyway. Courteous but detached. Dry tone of voice. Don't wonder how it works or what it took to bind two blades into one. Don't wonder what effect the reforging had on its power, its personality. Don't dwell on the tiny electric jolt at Harrow's suggestion.

"I... I could." The hesitation in his voice only lasts a moment. With a frown, Felix seems to steel himself. "I don't think anyone wants to find out the 'hard way'. But I wouldn't get as... close this time. I want to be quick. Safer."

[westfallcorndog]

Is Felix acting off? Harrowheart wouldn't know. He only knows the man as quiet, thoughtful. He might use the word 'scheming' if he was given long enough to consider it. With his little knowledge of Felix as a person he can't say there's anything wrong at all with his hesitant sentences or the pointed detachment of his tone.

But there's something that does know Felix, and 'off' is the last word it would use to describe him. In fact, this is a much better version of Felix. A curious Felix. A malleable Felix, if they're lucky...

"Can you tell here? Tonight? Or would we need another binding ritual?" Harrowheart asks. My, my, it's as if he's thinking exactly what Felix wants him to. Or what someone wants Felix to want...

[conjuredskies]

"I could do it now. Here, anyway." Should he? They're guests here, part of him whispers, in the midst of a betrothal celebration...

...And what is the point of these lavish parties if not to have shady little meetings and secret trysts in the shadows?

He glances around. No-one's going to take offense, surely. Jim is- he doesn't see Jim, so the captain must be safely occupied. "If we can get somewhere more private to work. It won't take long just to look."

Time to discreetly beckon over one of the servants and request an appropriate place to carry out a small ritual. ("Nothing terribly dangerous, but these things do require privacy.") Just a scrying or an illusion or a tiny little daedra-summoning, no doubt. Typical party fun and games.

As he expected, the request is easily accommodated, though it's placed in the hands of one of the priestesses who swiftly appears and guides them down a hall to a locked room. It's very quiet inside. The distant sounds of mingling and scheming and honest celebrations are all left outside the door. In the hush Felix crosses the stone floor and starts checking out the array of ritual supplies on the other side of the room. He barely even spares a nod for the gracious priestess, that's how focused he is on other matters. This mage is working.

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart follows quietly and with a respectful nod and smile for the priestess. If anyone at this party could be the victim of a Cask of Amontialldo-style scheme it must certainly be him, because he sees nothing wrong with any of this. Though, unlike Felix, he isn't inquisitive about the ritual reagents they might need. After all, why would he be? He's content to stand in the center of the room absorbing the visual details of it all as he holds his sword over the shoulder without a decorative metal pauldron.

Finally he does think to ask, though, "If the binding is off, we're not redoin' it here, are we? We're just gonna check, that's all. Right?"

While he speaks the runeblade presses against Felix's mind, urging him not only to continue, but to do it with haste. What if someone comes along to disturb the ritual? What if they see what you are doing and become curious themselves? What if they touch the blades, Felix? There was an ever-so-curious woman watching them with such delight earlier. It would be a shame if she were to follow in and stop your work...

[conjuredskies]

Felix seems preoccupied, busy running his fingers over the various boxes of earth and salt, feathers and small pouches and bottles. "Right. I didn't come equipped to negotiate." He looks around then, rolling a leftover sprig of foliage in his fingers. His eyes track past Harrow to the door. "...And I wouldn't care to perform something so sensitive in a house full of, hm, 'inquisitive' mages. It was risky enough the last time."

Here the blades meet some competition, because thinking about all that makes Felix painfully conscious that he has no delicious vampire souls to offer this time. No leverage to protect him. That has his sense of self-preservation getting very antsy indeed. He's going ahead, of course, but... best be wary.

Now... charcoal, charcoal... here's a stub, good enough. No soul gems, of course. Felix frowns, then turns on his heel and strides past Harrow to lean out of the door. There's his flaming atronach, faithfully keeping watch - and drawing more attention to the room they're in. He gestures her inside, to one of the corners. Maybe he can use the daedra to help power a ward...

Ah, yes. Better have her put the rest of the presents down first.

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart watches the atronach with some trepidation. It looks awfully... On Fire. He holds his glowing sword a little tighter as he eyes her warily, but eventually he accepts that if she's Felix's elemental then she's probably safe.

With only some hesitance he eventually sets his blade down in the center of the room so that Felix may draw any runes around it that he likes. It floats upright of its own accord with its twin tips hovering just above the ground, quiet momentarily as it waits to see what Felix has in store for it.

"Remember not to touch it," Harrowheart whispers across the room. "Otherwise, do whatever you need."

[conjuredskies]

"No, no, no touching. I know." He finds a box of half-used candles - they're all black and red for some reason, but suspicious sniffing suggests the wax is just dyed. Felix sets eight of them out around the sword, then kneels and gets to work with the charcoal. Despite his unfamiliar surroundings, his hand is sure and quick as he marks daedric symbols and ward lines out inside the circle, correcting any that his robes smudge. This isn't the first time he's set up a ritual in a hurry.

When he finishes the runeblades are at the center of a small array of markings. Looked at right, the way they line out puts the eight candles at the points of an outlined star. Felix surveys it all for a minute, then turns his mind to the atronach. It glides around and lights each candle in turn for him, apparently heedless of Harrow's feelings about its proximity. At last it settles in its own spot within the circle, waiting patiently.

Felix pulls his hood up and lifts his hands, anchoring familiar wards onto the foundation of the atronach and summoning circle. It's a pared-down version of the set he used at their last meeting: binding the blades not to harm the caster, not to leave the circle, not to try going off on some sort of rampage. Maybe he puts more of his own will behind it this time. He's been practicing. At last he pauses to try and clear his mind, focus himself for the important - and dangerous - part of all this. Invoking the god of wisdom seems pointless in this foreign realm. He murmurs a few Altmeris words to Magnus instead - Lord of the arcane, fount of all power, guide my will, give me strength...

"The wards are holding," he says quietly, eyes on the blades. "I'm going to try examining them without... making direct contact, this time." Beneath the hood his eyes shift to Harrow. "Without sending you into a trance."

Part of him is keen to try. He's sure he can do it the way he intends this time. With Harrow's assent, he'll step into the circle himself, mind reaching out to examine the magic that binds these blades. He knows they're watching. He can feel their presence in his wards, all that lethal power just... waiting.

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart is still unfamiliar with Felix's particular style of magic, but as he watches the process unfold he realizes that it isn't so dissimilar from the sort of thing he might see on Azeroth – especially, he recalls, from the necromancers he's seen practicing their craft. And so when Felix assures him that there will be no trances he's visibly put at ease and finds himself quick to nod seriously.

The blades, for their part, remain suspiciously quiet until Felix steps into the circle. When they find they suddenly have company – and such amenable company he is.

They impress upon him a sense of comfort, of calmness. In this binding circle – no, in their presence – things are right. They are not dangerous. Quite the contrary, they are a protecting force, and one which welcomes Felix into its shade. Most importantly, spiritually they are the same blades. The same twin mind that Felix contacted not so long ago. Their imprint is nothing but familiar in every way. These blades, though they may be fused as one, still know Felix. They still know his magic, too. The deal he struck with them still stands. Because you are a good mage, Felix. A powerful mage. One capable of wielding tremendous strength....

Strength such as them.

[conjuredskies]

He's doubted himself, these past weeks. To Felix it's started to feel like everyone doubts him. And not his honesty or his moral uprightness or his courage or anything so trivial. No. His usefulness. The very worth of having him around. And what's worse, part of him has begun to wonder about the same thing. He'd ridden on his sense of accomplishment after their last encounter, only to have his strength burn out pathetically when the time came for real battle.

So it's a deep relief to step into the circle and feel those wards wrap around him, steady and secure as ever. Even jury-rigged in this strange place, his magic works. He approaches the runeblades and this time there's little fear to hide. He senses no threat from them. On the contrary...

Carefully he reaches out toward the sword, hands keeping a safe distance from the blade while he reaches out to get a sense of the magic on them. Our bargain holds? He can feel them acknowledge it. They have no reason to lie. He's not sure they comprehend lying. That's a pointless affectation, to minds as clear-cut and purposeful as theirs.

And yet he doesn't immediately speak up and inform Harrowheart what he's learned. Not so soon. It's so nice to feel like a proper mage again, at the center of a skillfully enacted ritual instead of fumbling over flame spells he'll never get the hang of. Could Stratos handle this? Could anyone else they know? No-one with half the wits to be trusted, that's for damned sure...

But it's not enough, is it? Walk back out of this circle and how long will that feelng last? He still won't have the skill to aid his brother or fight the Dominion. Won't have the influence to protect Jim - and what power it would take to do that...

[westfallcorndog]

To Felix, the time he spends so close to the blades must feel so mercilessly short... But Harrowheart stands outside the circle for a long, long while watching, waiting to hear something as Felix loses himself to his thoughts. No, to his magic, certainly. The death knight doesn't know how long the communion should take, and so is hesitant to stop the ritual despite how uncomfortably long he's been waiting to hear something.

Eventually, after much time has passed, he quietly and hesitantly asks, "Felix? Is it through? Is the binding still?..."

[conjuredskies]

Harrowheart's voice - outside noise, intrusion - breaks the very long moment Felix is having with the blades. His head jerks a little and he realizes he's been standing there longer than he intended.

But he doesn't want to look like he's just been standing around so he lifts a finger briefly to silence Harrow - just a minute or two more, please. He frowns more intensely, as if he's making absolutely sure of what he senses. He's really going to miss this feeling. Is this what it's like for Harrowheart wielding these blades? Feeling safe under the wing of their power, knowing they won't harm you...

Time to go, though. Time to go. He gives a nod so Harrow can see. Bids the blades a silent farewell, pulling his mind back. He has to turn around and step straight out of the circle, before he thinks about it.

"The binding holds," he says, not looking up at Harrow for a moment. He needs to do more real conjuration work. That was far too enjoyable. "It wasn't as easy to be sure of without making direct contact, but I made certain." He smiles then, rather pleased. "And without needing to put you under at all. I knew it could be done!"

Oh. Wait, wards. Let him just take those down. Let the atronach float back over to collect the presents.