The Egyptian General revealed exactly as much about himself as Achilleas volunteered, which was very little. Cordial, but nothing more, and what little warmth the elder son of Irakles had affected slowly faded as he followed the Sirdar’s gaze to where it lingered a moment on Selene of Leventi. His lips pressed together as he heard the man’s next question, and Achilleas thought he could hasten a guess at who their esteemed guest would be looking to mingle with.
Glancing away as his father answered the man, he caught sight of the smirk upon Nikos’ face and shot him a cool look. Why was even here? He was not oblivious to his father’s esteem for his cousin, though he could make no sense of it. As far as he could make out, Nikos had achieved little of note, and he would be lying if he said he was not irked by way the Condos heir was insinuating himself into his father’s graces. It was made more unfortunate that he had appeared just when Achilleas himself was most certainly not in receipt of the man’s good favour. Unimpressed, he looked his cousin over with an impassive expression. A small man, Nikos was said to possess some charm, but the eldest son of Irakles struggled to see it and he did not think it was only down to his own bad mood.
Contrary to his father , the Lord Mikaelidas was rather keen not to bring their disagreements to a public forum. If he’d had his choice, he would kept well out of the man’s path that day, still stung after their morning’s conversation. He had been foolish perhaps, to push the issue of Stephanos so soon on the tail of his abstaining to vote, but Achilleas had wanted to be able to offer Theodora some reassurance after her upset the day before. He had found none to give her, but instead only managed to land himself deeper in the mire of his father’s disapproval. He did not much like it, even less so when it was made so visible to others- he was Mikaelidas after all, and not without his fair share of pride.
Breaking away from such thoughts, he offered Fotios and the Lady Eirini a bow as the latter moved up to join her husband, demanded an intriduction to their foreign friend. It was as the Egyptian General moved away that Achilleas found himself in receipt of a brusque dismissal, and he opened his mouth as if to reply. What more arrangements could possibly be required for this wedding?! And had he not been with Theodora before his presence had been demanded by the man before him? If nothing else his father was making a point, and realising that, Achilleas swallowed his discontent, tried to find his way to the level-headedness he was better known for. Hard won on little sleep and with the sting to his ego at being ordered about so, he found it nonetheless. “As you wish” There was a flicker of a glance toward his cousin and a nod to his brother. “Lord Nikos, Emilios” and then Achilleas turned and made his way through the crowd, not stopping to look for Theodora until he had put some distance between himself and his father.
It was a tempting proposition to drown his sorrows, but the Lord Mikaelidas did not. He wanted to keep a clear head and so did not avail himself of the wine that was freely pouring, a symbol of Taengean hospitality if ever there was one. Instead, he did as he had been bid and sought out his betrothed again, appearing by her side and laying a hand upon her back, a little sign of their growing familiarity with one another.
” I have been dismissed” he said, glancing back towards where Irakles stood in conversation with Nikos, a frown drawing his brows together for a moment before he sighed and gave his full attention to his fiancé. He still wanted to speak of her leaving the night before, but it seemed incongruous here, with the music and all the people that surrounded them. Instead, he chose something more topical, tried to push aside the lingering unease born of her rushing off without even a farewell.
“ You have seen our Egyptian friend? I think perhaps he shares a clothier with your sister?” he said lightly, watching Theo to see what she had made of their guest and his gaudy entourage.
It had been a curious thing, watching the Mikaelidas family interact with one another. Perhaps it was because she had been raised surrounded by so many women, but the interaction between Achilleas and his father seemed awfully... Cold.
Did it have something to do with what Achilleas had told her the day before? Irakles was displeased with his son for having a backbone ― for not supporting him during the senate meet. In a way, Theodora supposed she could understand where Irakles was coming from, but on the other, his reaction seemed a little... Over the top.
And then there was the tension between Achilleas and Nikos.
Turning her head to look up at Achilleas as he approached, Theodora offered him a gentle smile. "Don't pout." She said softly, "You make it too obvious that he bothers you, which makes it easier to use against you." She commented as she lifted the glass to her lips once more.
Theodora's attention returned to their guest of honor. She glanced him over, clearly unimpressed. Still, she couldn't help the smile and the laughter that followed. "At least she went for the prettier color." She replied, keeping her tone low so that only Achilleas could hear. But he was right: Selene's outfit was... Memorable, if nothing else. But that was none of Theodora's business and it was not her place to chastise her sister for it, either.
Interlocking her arm with his, Theodora leaned in closer. "If you need me to chastise your father for putting you in the dog house, all you need to do is ask." She looked up at him through her lashes, the amusement obvious against her features. As much as Irakles terrified her, Theodora knew very well how to play a role. She could be pleasant and charming when she wanted to be. And talking to Achilleas' father would require such a play. A good one, too.
Standing in the middle of the great reception gallery, Magnus and Imeeya flanking him on either side, Vangelis leaned in just slightly to better hear his Informer's words when they were spoken to him. It was a routine they carried out often and Vangelis trusted Magnus to never pass onto him gossip or speculation but instead only the information pertinent to larger affairs and politics. The disagreement between Achilleas and his father was not simply entertainment for the courts but also valuable in the reflection it gave on Irakles. Had the man been determined to see justice done, he would not have been concerned for a senator acting in a manner he saw as right. Instead, he had apparently chastised his eldest son for not showing solidarity to his sire and that could either be a damaged pride or a larger plan threatened by the breaking of rank. The latter of which strongly backed up the Lady Theodora's claims that Prince Irakles was out to secure the throne for himself and that Stephanos and Olympia's lives were in danger. Which only served to encourage the guilt that ate at his stomach lining and the foul disposition that had started to drift over him at being forced to attend the function in the first place.
He nodded at Magnus' words, his expression falling down into a dark frown of retribution driven anger as more circumstantial evidence built upon the guilt of Prince Irakles' ambitions.
How he wished his hands were not tied on such a matter.
The arrival of the Egyptian embassy heralded as much scandal and speculation as Vangelis had expected. Not that any of such words and thoughts were spoken at a volume that carried. Instead, the murmurs and whispers of Grecians experiencing culture shock were kept at a polite tone and level. The sheer volume of people in the room were what escalated that level to a general hum. For Vangelis' own part, he had fought Egyptians in the southern lands over ten years ago. He knew perfectly well that the climate and culture of their people led to more scantily clad garments - especially among the nobility who, as far as he could work out, seemed to attribute sheer physique and beauty to power. To show off such bodies and looks was a display of that power.
So, when the Sirdar of Egypt arrived in little more than some netting and a loincloth, Vangelis was little surprised unlike the others in the room. His only thoughts straying to whether he should be - as her guardian - limiting Imeeya's view of the man and his arrival. But as he watched her glance away from the spectacle, Vangelis decided that she was mature enough to moderate her own exposure to such a man.
Giving Magnus leave to speak with whomever he wanted in the room, or hover at his side should he so wish, Vangelis did the same for Imeeya, noticing the Lady Evangelina skirting among the exterior of the crowd and pointing her out to his cousin. Imeeya, he knew, was not a greatly chatty person and the Lady Evangelina had always comported herself with a sense of decorum when he had been in her near vicinity...
Beyond that, Vangelis was a fairly poor escort and host to his friends as he watched the interactions between the Egyptian general and the Taengean nobles with a curious eye that speculated from a safe distance.
The journey to the palati, Fotios spent mostly in silence with regards to his own words. His mouth and tongue formed the phrases of the Sirdar into Greek for Irakles' beneath and vice versa, as the two translators of the group worked together to ensure accurate and clear communication... but as far as his own opinions and thoughts went, he offered none of them. Fotios was a determined man with a million and one ideas swarming inside his skull at any one time but he was also cunning, socially adept and knew the way of the world well enough to play it to his advantage. In this situation, Irakles was the lead. He was the prince of the realm. He was the man who was expected to speak. And whilst Sirdars and Heads of Houses were, more or less, on even keels in terms of levels of nobility between the two realms, Fotios naturally fell into a subservient role of function, as the small group headed towards their courtly destination.
When it was mentioned that Leventi bred the kingdoms best horseflesh, Fotios had been appropriately appreciative of the comment, appearing modest at the praise. When the Taengean countryside was complimented upon for its beauty, he had nodded in agreement, offering a unity of thoughts with the Egyptian that might harbour easy connection and a familiarity with the foreigner. Whilst Irakles' determination regarding foreign politics had always been to master your enemies; to subdue and rule them, as a definition of power, Fotios' designs and thoughts on the matter had always been a little different. For he, it was enough to know that he personally ruled over another. He had no need to shout it to the world. Which made financial trading, bribes, favours and blackmail so much more palatable than outright war and conquering. At least to Fotios. It was just a shame he had been born to a family that would not aid in getting him to the throne. For, all he could do now, was consult, advise and aid his oldest friend as he took the spotlight than came with regency. But not at this time. At this time, Taengea had to appear commanded with dominance and authority. And Fotios' spoken comments or advice from the site would do nothing to cement Irakles as a figure to be reckoned with. As such, his lips remained closed over his own thoughts for the entirety of their journey back to the royal palace.
Upon their arrival, Fotios followed the same process of allowing Irakles the formality of taking charge. He addressed the Sirdar, greeted him and welcomed him formally to the court of Taengea and assured that they were all announced with the appropriate title and aplomb. It was only once they were standing within the open, great gallery of the palace that the atmosphere shifted subtly and became one of more intimacy. At such a time of which, Fotios was able to stand a little less straight, brace his weight on a preferred leg, accept the goblet of wine he was presented with and began to offer moments or comments that were identified as his own when translating.
Not that the conversation continued for very long before Irakles insisted on introducing the Egyptian to more Taengeans of his choice: first and foremostly, his sons. Duly translating the introductions and the boys' comments to the newcomer, Fotios was only distracted by the arrival of his wife.
Eirini had gowned herself this day to seductive perfection and Fotios felt a smug sense of supreme satisfaction at the helplessly attracted eyes that followed her path across the room. So many admirers... and yet she was his wife. The very fact had a possessive and proud instinct in his gut singing. Such thoughts, however, he kept from his face as he silently praised the fact that Eirini had always managed to walk the line of scandal with a natural care he had never been able to pinpoint. On many a woman, Eirini's choices of gowns would have been seen a gauche, tacky... whoreish in the least. But Eirini had a skill many failed to possess in which she balanced her raiment carefully. If the dress was too revealing, the jewellery was carefully arranged. If the fabric was eye-drawing, the cut was just a little more regal. If she was forced to wear a himation due to weather or propriety, then the dress would become more shocking to counteract the demuring accessory. She walked the line of outrageous and exceptional with a natural talent that Fotios could not help but approve of. For it hinted at a sharper mind than most in the room gave his wife credit for.
Upon reaching the small crowd of newcomers to the room, with the seductive gait of a whore and the regal bearing of a queen, Eirini drew herself to Fotios' side as if pulled in by magnetic force, her painted lips breathing her request into his ear. Such a favour - the asking of her introduction - was entirely unnecessary, for it was only polite that Fotios introduce the woman to their newest visitor, but by insisting it into his ear before he had the chance to do so naturally, she forced him to obey an order she had given (regardless of his intentions previous). Minx.
"Honourable Sirdar..." Fotios offered in coptic, his language skills far and away enough to simple introductions. "Might I introduce to you my wife, the Lady Eirini." He offered with a simple hand gesture towards the woman at his side and an elegant bow of the head. "She has been eager for your arrival to our kingdom and enjoys the making of new acquaintances."
As he introduced the woman, ensuring that he stood at her side while also opening up each of their body languages to their Egyptian guest, Fotios caught sight of an elegant and seductively dressed Selene. His eldest daughter and still unmarried at the near age of thirty, Fotios had had plans for her for many months now involving the man who stood several steps ahead and to her left. With the woman standing behind him, the crown prince was unlikely to notice her, despite rumours that the General had eyes in the back of his head.
Fotios almost rolled his eyes. It was missed opportunities like that that were causing Selene's unmarried status to extend.
"In fact..." Fotios commented, reaching out a hand towards his niece who stood across the room, crooking his fingers once in an imperative gesture. "Allow me to also introduce you to my eldest niece the Lady Selene." He suggested when the blonde drew closer. "She has recently journeyed to each of our Grecian kingdoms and will be intrigued by any wisdom you can impart regarding your homeland I'm sure." His words were smooth even in coptic, before he translated his words in a low tone for both women...
Achilleas looked momentarily affronted at Theodora’s words. He was not pouting.Was he? His eyes drifted unwillingly back towards his father as she spoke though, and it seemed to give credence to her observations even if getting Achilleas himself to admit it would not be so forthcoming.
“ It’s fine” he said, almost a little tersely. “ I am not bothered. It is not unusual behaviour for him”. Some of his statement was true, other parts less so, but that would be for Theodora to ascertain for herself as Achilleas had already changed the subject.
He did not let his eyes linger upon Theodora’s older sister, though it would have been easy to do so, for there was a lot to be seen, but instead chuckled, let a little of the tension leave the set of his shoulders and the lines of his face as he looked down on his betrothed. “ Is she trying to catch an Egyptian? Or a certain Colchian Prince perhaps?”
The Lord Mikaelidas has noted the arrival of Prince Vangelis, it was hard to miss the man for he stood talk over the crowd, taller even than Achilleas who was no diminutive figure. He could not lay claim to know the man well, they had been introduced by Stephanos, had both fought alongside one another to thwart the Creed, but beyond the respect offered from one soldier to another, he had not had chance to form much of an opinion.
Interesting that he was here, Achilleas mused, for he knew the Colchian Crown Prince to be close to their disgraced King. Did Vangelis know of what had transpired at the Senate meet? He must, surely?
He was pulled from his thoughts by Theodora’s arm slipping through his own, and he offered her a distracted smile, still pondering the presence of the steely Prince, a known ally to his cousin who might be just the person to…
Blinking, he heard then the words of his fiancé, and Achilleas sighed, gave her his full attention, hard not to do when she turned her eyes up at him like that. And though he could see the humour she spoke with, the Lord found it more difficult to find it himself. She did not understand his father. Nor did he, even.
“ I think I managed to make it worse” he admitted, feeling hot again at the memory of being marched to the exit by Palace Guards. Achilleas’ gaze dropped away from Theodora then, and his voice was quiet, meant only for her. ” I tried to speak with him this morning. About Stephanos and Olympia” Only well, he hadn’t even managed to get that far as it turned out, painful as it was to admit it. Shaking his head slightly, he was quick to try and head off any ignited hope his words might have brought to bear. “ It didn’t go well, and I have nothing to tell you to make you feel better “
Achilleas sounded annoyed and he was not looking at her, instead fixing his gaze over the tops of the heads that surrounded them. It was not easy for the man to admit failure, and he could see it as nothing but.
My, my but the Egyptians did bring the wolves out of the woodwork. Evangelina’s large, dark doe eyes skimmed over the crowd. Nothing would be able to change the fact that she didn’t want to be here. All the same, wants ranked lower than priorities. Her priorities as of late had been skewed. Somewhere between childhood and now, she’d discovered that there was a difference. As much as she wished to be just about anywhere but here… this was her world for now.
Weaving softly, almost unnoticed through the throng of people, the pint-sized Leventi made slow but deliberate progress through the crowd. Sharing a passing glance at the crown prince of Colchis, she offered a faint smile to him and his companion. He was a startling sort. Tall. Intimidating. The cunning in his gaze more soldier than diplomat but just as ruthless. He was not the sort of man to make an enemy of. Offering a soft bobble of her head at him and his companion before disappearing back into the crowd.
Everyone wanted a closer look. Evangelina glanced over those who remained close to the Egyptian. There was a welcomeness that was imperceptibly feigned. Despite the regal beauty of everyone, they left an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes took a pause on her uncle’s face. He looked kind, approachable, almost simple… Like just another man here to welcome a guest to their beloved country. Her aunt was draped over him to perfection. What do you want with the Egyptians?
Her fingers tapped against her arm slightly with her usual nervous energy brimming under the surface. Dropping her eyes from her uncle and aunt she stepped backward sharply. The heel of her foot catching on the marginally too long hem of her forest green silk chiton. A quiet grunted curse escaped as that familiar feeling of falling registered. Her arms flew out wildly latching onto the nearest body. A musician. Evangelina’s fingers tightened out of instinct. Her wretched balance would be the death of her.
Despite her surprise attack and death grasp upon the musician, she was descending downward. Sometimes there simply was no way to elegantly plummet to the ground. This was one of those times. Squeezing her eyes shut, Evangelina braced herself for the impact of hitting the ground. Her life seemed like it was a series of embarrassing moments linked one after another together with only slight intermissions between them just to keep you guess what was to happen next. There was an art to not caring what people thought of you, to making an embarrassing situation and making it work for you rather than against you. She’d not mastered that yet.
She hit the ground knees first, her eyes popping open just as her body jolted forwards against the musician's body, his lyre all that was separating her face from being intimately acquainted with his hips. Her face turned a delicious shade of scarlet and her eyes widened further in surprise. It took her a couple of seconds for her brain to kick in and her body to react. Jerking backward away from the offending closeness of his hips, she landed on her rump staring up at the musician.
“I… Uh…” Evangelina’s words faltered and her eyes begin to blink. “I apologize. I…” She bounced between stammering over the words and rambling, still not able to meet the gaze of the lyre player. “Ummm…” Evie’s rump sat on the ground, her legs no longer folded under her, but rather pointed straight out perpendicularly from her upright form. “My legs seemed to have buckled under all the excitement…”
This wasn't how she expected this to go today. When she decided to jump back into the swing of things... this wasn't what she'd meant.
If Achilleas had been trying to prove her wrong, he was doing a terrible job at it. If nothing else, her betrothed only further proved her point and it only made her feel even more amused than she had already. Naturally, she didn't let it show ― too much. "Mmhmm." She replied simply, pulling her eyes to Irakles ― her soon to be father in law.
Irakles was handsome and charm seemed to pour from his skin like sweat, but unlike most of the people within the court, Theodora wasn't so quick to take a bite from the apple. She might have been, were it not for her sister's words going through her head on replay.
Turning her attention back towards Achilleas, Theodora did not look in the 'certain Colchian Prince's' way. "With that dress, I think she's trying to catch anyone's attention." She mused.
No, Vangelis was the last person Theodora wished to speak of. It wasn't a subject she wished to linger upon ― she had already proved that keeping her emotions in check was no easy task. If they lingered on the topic, Achilleas might notice her discomfort, and Vangelis had made it rather clear that she shouldn't tell anyone. Naturally, Theodora agreed, but that didn't mean her facial expressions did.
As Achilleas spoke again, Theodora pursed her lips: So, he had tried to talk to his father even after saying that he couldn't. It made her feel a little bit guilty. Had she been honest about where she'd went the other night, she might have saved him the trouble, but then, it wasn't as if Vangelis' answer had been any better, or made her feel less worried for the life of her sister.
Sighing, Theodora shook her head and looked out over the crowd. "It's fine." She said, keeping her tone low. "You tried and I will be forever grateful for that." She continued, pursing her lips. "Thank you for trying, Achilleas."
Further Theo didn't get as movement caught her eyes. Turning her head a little, she could see Evangelina step away from their uncle, only to make a less than graceful step backwards that resulted in the young woman stepping over her own dress. That was not the worst part, though, as the young woman found herself crashing against another body. Pressing her lips together in a thin line, Theodora pulled her gaze away from the embarrassing sight.
She didn't miss the look on Achilleas' face, which likely mirrored her own. The look was better described as sharp, and Theodora could only hope someone would get the poor girl out of here before she further embarrassed herself, and her family.
"Are you related to her?" The whisper was enough to make Theodora's body stiffen. Her expression settled into forced deadpan. "No. I have never seen her before in my life."
Eager to get out of the situation, and the obvious lie that had rolled off of her tongue, Theodora turned towards Achilleas. "Let's get out of here." She said, gently pulling at his arm and jerking her head towards one of the doors at the side. Having the entire Leventi clan under the same roof was proving to be less charming than she had expected it to be.
As Irakles returned to conversation with the Egyptian warlord, Nikos busied himself with securing his own glass. He flagged down a servant boy carrying wines to cater to the guests of the palati, and within moments Nikos cradled a goblet of his House's best work between his fingers. He sipped sparingly from the glass, turning back towards Irakles and his sons just as the Prince dismissed another of his servants to trail Sidar as he waded into the crowd of nobility. He listened in silence and drowned another smug smile in a gulp of wine as Irakles coolly dispersed his sons into the assembly, Emilios without a word and Achilleas still brandishing raised hackles.
As the brothers moved away from the vicinity, Nikos allowed his eyes to linger on Achilleas. The man was tall and powerfully built, a reputable man of character and rumored to have never lost a fight. He was potentially a powerful enemy to make, but Nikos wasn't particularly worried; Achilleas was a proud man, and there had been more determined and capable men than he that had been blinded by arrogance and had driven their own chariots over a cliff. Even moreso, he suffered the disdain of his father and was a known supporter of the now-disreputable Stephanos. His lack of political clout severely crippled his influence over Nikos, not that he was known to be cunning enough to use it in the first place. As Achilleas was swallowed by the throngs, Nikos took another sip from his chalice, and the man was gone when he lowered the glass from his lips. He did not dislike Achilleas for any reason other than his name, but the man had cast his lot with the adversary, and long-lying loyalties were difficult to uproot. The friend of his enemy was his enemy, but luckily he was one that could easily be dealt with if necessary.
Nikos swirled his glass as he turned back towards Irakles, listening as he inquired as to the whereabouts of his father. "Of course, sire. My father isn't one to spurn an appearance at such a decisive day for the nation as this." His words dripped with more sweetness than honey, but it was merely a political front. In such a public audience, when anyone could be listening in on his words, it was more important than ever for Nikos to keep up appearances as merely a friendly acquaintance of the Prince. It was no secret that House Condos and the Mikaelidas family were closely tied, and balancing just the right amount of political closeness yet respect for royal blood was imperative to keeping their alliance out of the public eye. "However, he is not one for mingling amongst large crowds. He is most likely speaking with Lord Gavriil, or with my mother at the edge of the crowd." He wasn't quite sure himself, and he didn't know if Olivia had come with him either. She hated court, but Nikolias most likely dragged her here anyways, as redefining the peace treaties with the Egyptians could drastically alter Taengea's future.
He turned his head, scanning the crowds for any sign of his father when he abruptly spied the young Evangelina in a rather crude closeness to one of the musician's...lyre. Nikos blinked in surprise, along with the rest of the small crowd that had witnessed the lady's blunder. He hurriedly stepped towards her in a bid to help return her to her feet before the musician had to break his song to assist her himself. Having not yet had his fair share of taunting today after his brief encounter with Achilleas, he extended a hand towards the maiden to help bring her back to a standing position. "Lady Evangelina, I must apologize upon the behalf of House Condos. It appears we must have brought far stronger wine this evening than I had planned for." Ever since the young Leventi had overcome her infatuation with him, he quite enjoyed teasing her with a bit of flirting to sting her pride. He shot her a knowing smile, his hand still extended in its open invitation, as he awaited the maiden's response.
A fish out of water. That’s exactly how Imma felt as she sat in the carriage, peering out the window at the world passing by. Throughout the trip her sisters carried on their conversations and she only opened her mouth to get involved when it felt necessary. When it came to her family she was a relatively quiet girl. Considerate in kind. Always putting their needs ahead of her own. That day would likely be no different. In fact if anything she’d be even quieter than usual given the fact that she was entirely out of her element. Imma had never been to the palati before, not for anything like this. Attending it now felt awkward at best. Especially when the event was one of such significance. At least she looked the part. That much had been seen to in great lengths. It was the first time she could ever really recall not feeling entirely out of place among her sisters. Like she was one of the beautiful Leventi women that people whispered about. Even if she could not compare directly she was at least a reflection of their glory.
When they arrived and departed the carriage she soon found herself swept up in her mother’s folds. Drawn in and kept close. When given her instruction Imma simply nodded in agreement, quietly reassuring her mother with a simple. “Yes, mother.” From that point on she became something of a second shadow. Following her mother as she made her way up the stairs and into the palati. Giving her just enough room to carry on in statuesque perfection at her father’s side. Turning her dark eyes over to the crowd she scanned the faces, familiar and otherwise, making note of some while inspiring curiosity in others. When the opportunity arose to share in a hug with Selene she happily partook. Wrapping her arms around her eldest sister as she smiled and whispered in her ear. “You look so beautiful.” It was a sweet reminder that no matter what, Imma adored her sisters and looked up to them in all things.
The exchange between her sisters and mother that followed of course left much to be desired as it obviously aggravated her mother. Nana was simply being Nana. Which seemed to be an eternal struggle for her mother, though certainly more so now that Nana had come into her own. Watching her hustle off to achieve her goal she pursed her lips in thoughtful consideration. Despite whatever flaws she might have had, Nana was fiery and beautiful. Imma doubted that she would fail to succeed where her mother wanted her to. Glancing to Selene she offered an apologetic smile. With any luck she would be able to ensure Nana was following direction without ruining her own night. Theo had gone off to do what was expected of her, which meant of course that she was in the company of her betrothed. All the pieces of the puzzle seemed to be fitting together as she expected they might. The way she’d imagined as a girl when she listened to them speak of such functions.
What introductions came her way were brief and barely seemed to register for most. People were coming to speak with her father or mother, Imma was an afterthought. One her mother seemed rather adamant about presenting, but an afterthought nonetheless. While she suspected it would make the evening quite dull later on, she was still new enough to the event that she found observing quite fascinating. When the doors opened and the Egyptian delegate stepped in of course her attention moved from general curiosity to peaked intrigue. Tipping her dark eyes to the foreign man she watched in wide-eyed wonder. As she heard her mother address her father her gaze flickered her way. It was almost too easy to see the mechanisms begin to move within her mind. What did she think of the general? It must have been better than she anticipated.
That thought lured her eyes away once more, pulling them to the man. Tilting her head sent the braid she wore tumbling over her shoulder. The golden folds draping past her chest to her belly before she straightened herself. Peeking back at her mother once more she realized that she was far too distracted to bother with introducing Imma about. Moistening her lips with a sweep of her tongue she stepped back and inched toward the wall. Using it as a guide she made her way around the room to a relatively quiet vantage point. There she reached through the folds of her plum colored chiton to withdraw a small folded bit of parchment. It wasn’t the sketchbook she would have hoped for, but it was all she could fit in the dress without being clunky or awkward. Pulling a narrow bit of led from her braid she leaned back into the wall. Setting the paper up in an open palm for support so she could sketch.
The target of her interest was the Egyptian general. He was quite handsome, but that wasn’t exactly what had her furiously etching into the parchment. That he was foreign made him unique. More so than anyone she had seen in a long while. It would be unfortunate to miss the opportunity to draw him… even if it wasn’t possible to fully realize him on such a small bit of paper. There was enough space to sketch out details. The shape of his nose, his eyes, his lips… bits and pieces that she could put together with her memory and knowledge of form to make a bigger piece when she was home. When she had all her tools at her disposal. It was likely the last thing she should have been doing, but it was what made her comfortable. Besides she didn’t think anyone would notice. Not when they all had much better things to be paying attention to.
Selene could feel the eyes on her, staring at the dress. Some women were glaring at the exposed sides and the fine gems. Husbands were staring at the slight curve of her breasts that peeked through the purple material. There was a reason she was considered blessed, and she usually didn’t mind showing off how much so.
But there was so much more she was thinking about.
Her sister was on a time clock, set to die by the hands of the regent.
The baby would die before it ever took breath.
She would lose the sister who understood the terror from the Circus.
Her face was stoic, the look matched her name— serene. But inside, panic consumed her in a way she never imagined it could. Alastair had come to her with a plan, one that was sound in her mind, and the dress had a part to play in it. But for now, she downed the wine and hoped that it would give her the courage she required to do what she thought she had to do. There was every intention of becoming the martyr to keep her sister and nephew alive.
She almost missed her uncle’s signal, mind overwhelmed by the desperate conversation with Pia and the plan her guard had presented her with only hours prior. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught it. And while she wished to roll her eyes at the insistence in his look, she was ever the dutiful niece. Walking slowly, hips swaying with each deliberate step, Selene was at his side without delay.
Her level of distraction was so intense that she didn’t even notice the familiar head of dark hair on the tall frame to her left.
The smile that graced her lips was a polished one, etiquette forcing her to put aside her thoughts for the moment to instead focus on the introductions and man in front of her. She dipped low in greeting, the dress staying firmly in place with the motion. Lifting her head, her bright blue eyes met the dark ones of the Egyptian visitor. But unlike before, there was no girlish blush that came with his nearness. Instead, with practices grace, her eyes didn’t waver from him. She didn’t dare look closer at his dress, focusing on the intensity of him as a whole.
She briefly found herself wondering what the rest of the people dressed like.
Smiling, Selene took the chance to allow her uncle to finish before she spoke. ”Greeting Honorable Sirdar. Welcome to Taegnea.” She was, by no means, a linguist. But she knew a few coptic phrases for situations like this, and she didn’t think her accent was too bad. Giving her uncle a fond glance, she allows her cheeks to flush with the compliment. ”My uncle is most correct— my recent travel has made me curious as to the ways of the world. I would be most honored to hear about your kingdom, should you wish to fulfill my humble desires to know more.”
Hesiodos’ job was simply to play music and being pretty, and truth be told, he was doing a damn fine job at that. The music of his lyre and of the rest of the musicians that followed him made a nice backdrop from the conversation and the happenings of the reunion… that, and he was probably the better looking man of this gathering. He didn’t ignore the looks he was getting, for one reason or another.
As much as he would have liked to get involved, he was busy, so he decided to get lost in the music. His calloused fingers strummed the lyre masterfully, and his voice sang songs. Greek songs, Egyptian songs, Egyptian songs with Greek style… it all came like breathing to him. But it came to a halt when he felt someone gripping him.
It was an attractive woman, he realized, with a forest green chiton. Instinctively, he reached to help her, though his lyre got in the way, making for a rather comic scene... but it was better this way. It would have been really embarrassing for her face to be so close to his hip.
Only when she fell, bottom first, did he had time to act. First, he looked at the astonished musicians behind him with a look that yelled, ‘keep playing, or else’, and so they did. Then he knelt in front of the woman and smiled at her, “Do not be sorry”, he said with a honey-sweet tone, “Most people fall for me as well…”
Without dropping his lyre, he offered her his whole arm so she could stand up. He almost hoped to hear a snicker or something, so he could challenge the poor fool to a duel, but for now, he was focused on the woman before him, “Tell me, are you alright? You’re not hurt, aren’t you?”, he offered her an expression that said that everything was alright. In his mind, however, he would have loved to kiss her… but that wouldn’t be appropriate in this setting, wouldn’t it?
It was always interesting what people did when they thought they were safely hidden. There were many things Evangelina couldn’t claim. She would never have the sort of palpable beauty that her family was known for, not that she was unfortunate looking but rather she striking in her own distinctive way. Evie also couldn’t claim to be graceful, at least not when she wasn’t on a horse. She was a ball of electric energy creating a current that was almost tangible when you were around her. It often made her movements sharp and abrupt. Those things didn’t detract from her strengths though.
One of those strengths was perceptiveness. That electric energy was a double-edged sword. It meant that she rarely focused on just one thing… things that were lost within a crowd weren’t usually lost among her. So when, she saw her cousin Theo, a cousin she’d always held in high esteem, a cousin she’d always admired share that sharp look with Achilleas. Evangelina felt the first twinges of betrayal. Why was it always the people who you thought you knew, who disappointed you the most?
She watched her cousin stiffen and whisper something to Achilleas, gently pulling him away. Her respect for her cousin fell. So that’s the way it is to be…
Dragging her attention back to her situation with newfound vigor. A hand connected to an all too familiar body extended down in front of her face. ‘Lady Evangelina, I must apologize upon the behalf of House Condos. It appears we must have brought far stronger wine this evening than I had planned for.’ Her jaw clenched and she tilted her head a little to slant her dark eyes up to Lord Nikos. Shouldn’t he have been kissing some dignitary’s hairy rump?
“Lord Nikos, Thank you for your concern… I know how considerate you are.” The word considerate carrying the emphasis. The man was exasperating. Charming. Handsome. Abominable. He seemed to slither out from whatever rock he was hiding under just to torment her all because she’d had the bad taste to have one small little infatuation with him when she’d been too young to even know what those two little funny bumps were that were appearing upon her chest. Evie offered her honeyed thorn with the sweetest of smiles. He’d perceive her meaning just fine. Her dark, doe eyes narrowed shooting daggers at him despite her sweet tone, “But your concern is misplaced, I assure you I’ve quite outgrown my weakness to all things Condos.”
She was prevented from continuing her snarky clash when the lyre player regained his wits from the surprise attack upon his person and dropped down next to her. Evie’s head jerked as she pinned him with a look. Her eyes widened as he spoke. ‘Do not be sorry…’ His words dripped out of his mouth. ‘Most people fall for me as well…’ Panic began to edge up. Oh, no… not another one... She shot to glance at Nikos and then back to the Lyre player and felt herself unconsciously leaning away as he made an attempt to flirting.
The lyre player produced his arm in an offer for her to help her up. She blinked a bit taken back. She also was hardly a delicate flower. Spent all of her free time straddling a thousand-pound beast who liked nothing better than to toss her on the ground at twice this distance. Was she fine? My ego is a bit bruised… Drawing her eyes over the musician for the first time she felt her toes tingle. At least they were fine…
With Nikos at one side and the musician at the other, she suddenly felt trapped. Looking like a deer caught in the crosshairs of a hunter’s bow, she tried to keep her panic at bay. In a swift far more graceful movement than the way she’d ended up on the ground, she took both their arms and helped herself up quickly disengaging herself from either of them like their touch burned her palms.
“I am quite alright. There is no need to worry… I…” She blinked, she needed to get away from here… away from them, but how? “I need to go see a horse about a man…” Evie blurted out, realized her blunder and corrected herself. “I mean a man about a horse…” She spun around just a little too quickly and ran into yet another solid body. Her small frame bouncing slightly off of it. Oh, for the love of Poseidon! She knew she should have stayed at home...
For all his purpose here was political and a discussion of whether or not there was to be war or a continued peace, Osorsen found himself rather delightfully distracted by the Grecian beauties. The woman with pale hair and revealing gown held much of his focus until yet another came into his view. This one was different, she had the air of someone with a good deal of experience, and talent. In sharp contrast, her hair was nearly dark as his own, but her skin was fair and creamy, even for what he could tell was of an age older than his own. This matron of Greece could have held court in nearly any Egyptian household just as easily with such features.
His quarrel was with the men of this country, and so he showed the lady respect in his bow, smiling slightly at his own private joke. This was the translators wife, though how he kept someone like her content left the general bewildered. Instead of speaking any of this aloud, he managed to keep his tone pleasant as he spoke in Greek to the assembled party.
”A pleasure, my lady.”
The language still felt thick on his tongue, and he could hear his own accent stand out in contrast to the others around him. It was uncomfortable but he would prefer to make an effort and remind the foreigners around him that he did have some comprehension if only to stop them thinking they could whisper as they liked. His gaze turned to follow where the lord gestured and as she moved toward them he felt an indescribable pull. That this man had somehow managed to surround himself with such beauties was incredible.
Her eyes met his own and Osorsen felt a jolt reminiscent of the first time he had seen the Queen as a woman, her full self. Perhaps it was heart, or something else, but he felt more drawn to the woman introduced as Selene than he had anyone else in a very long time. With an even lower bow, he kept his hands tucked behind his back in an at ease posture to prevent himself reaching out to touch her on instinct. Everything about her seemed serene and stunning, and he wondered what it might be like to rule with a woman such as this by his side. And then she spoke his mother tongue with a faltering accent, but a valiant effort and his heart was lost.
”Lady Selene, I would be honored to speak with you further. Any desire of yours that I can fulfill, I shall do happily.” He wasn’t sure how much of it she would be able to understand as he spoke coptic, but her uncle could translate. How fun if he could make the old man squirm, though he switched back to Greek for his next phrase as he gestured to the two women by them. ”I see Greece still has treasures hidden from the rest of the world.”
It was easy to see that he enjoyed beautiful women. She hadn’t missed the wide, lingering gaze on her aunt as she had walked up for an introduction. And it was impossible not to see that he found her attractive as well. The heat of his stare was hard to miss, and she could tell by the look on her uncle’s face that this play had a purpose. That he hadn’t just called her up because she was the closest Leventi in the room.
Not that she minded— Pia would be pleased that her dress was doing its job. And at least she could return to the couple and have something to say.
She had surprised him by speaking in his native tongue and she was proud of herself, for it seemed that she hadn’t offended him or misspoke. Her old tutor would have been proud of her for remembering the phrase, although he would have been horrified at her accent. But she enjoyed the was his eyes seemed to light up with her words. ”My knowledge of your language is limited, I’m afraid.” Using Greek, she wanted to make sure he didn’t suddenly feel the need to speak only Coptic. ”I know a few phrases but none of them seem important in this situation except ‘Do you know where I can find the good wine.’” She waited to see if it needed a translations, wondering if he knew more Greek than she assumed.
A hand moved to the curve of her bare hip, settling against the bone. Now that there had been an introduction, she knew that the conversation could flow freely, and yet, she wasn’t sure how much should be said in front of her uncle without him discovering her eventual intentions. It wasn’t like she could just leave now, so instead, she gave him a smile that managed to reach her eyes.
Although she wished to frown, as the idea of waiting for a translator was certainly a pain.
Achilleas was not so convinced that it was fine. Nor did he particularly enjoy being commended for trying. For him, anything less than complete success was a failure, and it gnawed at him whenever it happened. Of course, he could console himself, the odds had been stacked against him this time. His father still seethed after his son’s uncharacteristic defiance in the Senate vote, and so had been less than willing to take Achilleas into his confidence. But with his pride still smarting from that morning’s conclusion, and now the events of that very evening, Achilleas could only berate himself further for even having pursued the idea, and then again for having let his temper get the better of him. That had made all too easy for the Prince to retaliate in kind, and so here he was, unable to reassure her, and having only served to further wear his father’s patience.
No. it was not fine.
His self recrimination was interrupted soon after though, when a commotion from over by the musicians had the Lord Mikaelidas turn his gaze in that direction. One dark brow raised skeptically, he looked upon the girl currently pressing her face a little too close to the lyre players crotch and cringed, then snorted in surprise as he recognised her as Theodora’s cousin. His enquiry as to confirm her identity became obsolete in the next moment though, for as his betrothed murmured that she had no knowledge of the girl, Achilleas suddenly found he did not care about her either way. His eyes had travelled upwards, flicked away from Nikos of Condos only to land upon a face he knew well. Perhaps too well. Atë had some grudge with him, it could only be so.
For there, in the Mikaelidas Palati , at the court being presided over by his father, was that infernal bard. A solitary muscle flickered in his jaw as Achilleas’ face went very still, and he tried to decide if he wanted to haul the man up and hit him, or to flee. What was he doing here?!
There was still a fine silvery line of a scar that traced the top of his ribs, courtesy of the man now fawning over the girl -who he was almost certain was Theodora’s cousin - but it was not the wound that Achilleas remembered. It was..
He would not let himself think on it even, and so jerked his head round and attempted to hide his discomfort as Theodora spoke “Hmm?” He realised that she was asking him to leave with her, and though he knew it for the folly it was, he could not deny the appeal. They would not be missed for a minute or two surely, and he could use a moment. Achilleas flashed a brief, tight smile at his betrothed then and nodded. “ Not for long” he caveated, even as he reasoned that his father had bid him to attend to Theodora , and was that not was he was doing?
So he let Theodora lead him toward the side door of the chamber, one of the many that opened into the gardens, and the Lord Mikaelidas gave a nod to the guardsman who manned the exit, relieved it was not one of those who had provided him his escort earlier that day. The man stood aside, and the pair of them soon found themselves in the relative peace of the Palati gardens. A momentary reprieve at least.
He turned to Theodora, needing to re-establish some control over the situation, over himself after the shock of being faced with that infernal bard, and reached a hand out to trace down the side of her face. The back of his fingers brushed gently , slowly, over the softness of her cheek and he raised his brows, focusing on what had provoked her sudden urge to break away from the reception rather than his own reasons.
“ Egpytian Embassies are not to your liking then?”
Vangelis was a little distracted, as the guest of honour arrived and the crowds in the room started up with their chatter. Some were whispering amongst themselves; others were calling to those they knew across the room. Some were converging on the newcomers in order to introduce themselves and offer platitudes to the Egyptian.
Vangelis, on the other hand, was distracted by two-fold draws of his attention. One was his cousin who was looking around the room with great interest and he was concerned for her wandering off beyond his suggested interactions and causing some sort of issue. Imeeya was an intelligent woman and had the skills of running her own province but she was also a little sheltered and had not travelled beyond Colchis before. And a little confidence with a naive perspective was a dangerous thing. The second was the fact that, once the Taengeans had shifted a little to expose the Egyptian visitor to Vangelis' line of sight, he realised that he recognised the man. But it wasn't until the booming voice offered the Sirdar's name that they two combined in his memory to realise he had fought against the General in the last Greco-Egyptian war.
Which was exactly the kind of interaction he had wanted to avoid by not attending this damned event in the first place.
Taking a calm and deep inhale, Vangelis now remembered the last time he had been in even remotely close proximity to the man. Though, it had barely been that. As the leaders of their men, the two of them had kept far away from one another and he only truly recognised him for his height, facial hair and name - the three things he had been aware of the last time they had crossed paths. The battle in question had been a nasty one, so it stuck in his memory…
Normally in war, when two military units came together, there was a clear division of skill. One leader always inferior to the other. The one lacking was the one to make the first mistake. And the stronger tactician would use that as an opening to turn the tide of battle. Once that tide was turned... the conflict soon ended. Battles were like a set of scales. The second additional weight was added to one side, the entire equilibrium shifted. Occasionally, there were wobbles. There were moments when an opportunity presented itself and, for whatever reason (slowness of action, hesitation of thought, an untrained force languid to obey commands), full advantage couldn't be taken before the defenceless party drew their ranks back in line. And this could happen on both sides, back and forth, over and over, throughout the course of a fight. But it only took one key mistake and one open flank or moment of hesitation, combined with quick and decisive action and fast responding soldiers to entirely turn a battle around. Which was why a General and leader was so important. Not because of him as an individual. But because one brain needed to be in charge in order to make those harsh and fast judgements. Or no tide was able to be turned, regardless of opportunity.
There were few Generals that Vangelis had ever encountered who were equal to him, be it as a tactical leader or with the same strength of skill and loyalty in his men. Sirdar Moghadam was one of them. Their last encounter was one of the few times Vangelis had ever been forced to reach a stalemate. Neither of the two of them had been willing to give an inch, no weaknesses were opened, no exploitations made. They had too-ed and fro-ed as if they were dancing, waiting for the other to slip for days of conflict that gained no ground on either side. Until eventually they had conceded to each occupy a bank of an estuary of the Nile. They had had to stop or else continue to lose their men steadily in a battle of attrition that gained nothing for either side.
By the time they were ready to take up arms once more, their dead buried and their soldiers rested, the war on Egypt had been declared as over - a messenger arriving from talks between the Grecian Kings and the Egyptian Pharaoh on another battlefield - and Vangelis had been forced to retreat his men. They never had discovered which of the two of them would have prevailed in the end.
Lost in memories of a past over ten years old, it took Vangelis a moment to register a flash of purple in his peripheral, as a young, noble woman passed around him and headed directly for the subject of his thoughts. His eyes narrowed as the excessive and ostentatious gown swayed with the woman's movements, baring an additional inch of hip on either side with each swaying step. Vangelis found himself staring at the dip in the woman's shape - a little shadow that rested where a thin waist met the flare of her hip. The shadow grew darker when she placed weight onto that leg. Blinking as he realised that such a gait was familiar to him, Vangelis gaze shot upwards to take in the angle of her shoulders, the rhythm of her steps and the head of blonde hair in wanton curls down her back and he felt an odd sensation in the centre of his chest. Something between heat and horror as a suspicion drew itself in his mind.
As soon as the woman turned her head to smile at her uncle. Vangelis almost groaned as his fear was confirmed and her profile came into view. The possessor of the pretty hip dip (not to mention expanses of flawless skin she was now showing off) was in fact his friend Selene. Which instantly had him contrite at his distraction. Which, in turn, only served to make him annoyed. Not to mention the fact that what she was wearing was ridiculous. It was like she was attempting to advertise herself in the most physical and basic manner. The notion irritated.
When, as he watched, the Egyptian General appeared to notice the exact same thing - because what man in the room wouldn't - Vangelis' frown deepened and he felt that heat in his chest spark a little. It energised his limbs and had him following the blonde across the room, his advisor and cousin helpless but to move with him, as he had not dismissed them from his company. While his inner thoughts are cloudy on the topic of what he was planning on doing when he greeted the man he had had no intention of speaking with, Vangelis was simply lucky that his rank as crown prince made his stepping forward to meet Taengea's guest in no way strange.
He reached the little group in time to hear the last comment made by their Egyptian visitor. He spoke Greek simply and well but with a strong accent. Vangelis felt his irritation grow. The man couldn't be more Egyptian if he tried. His clothing, his voice, his clear need to display everything he possessed in some kind of crude and arrogant show. Vangelis was neither intimidated, nor impressed.
"I see Greece still has treasures hidden from the rest of the world."
They were the first words Vangelis had heard from the man, as he naturally stepped in to stand just behind the Lady Selene, at her shoulder.
"That she does, Sirdar." He commented, without waiting to be invited into the conversation, referring the Greece as his mother home. "And most of them are protected by myself and my family."
His words, combined with his identity, easily spoke of Colchis and the riches it held within its mountains. His eyes and his proximity to Selene, suggested something else.
The crown prince then behaved as was standard operating procedure for him and continued about his business without regard for social conformity. "If you'll excuse us." And despite the words being a seeking of permission, Vangelis waited for none and simply placed a hand to the small of Selene's back, the purple silk soft against his palm, and steered her away from the group before she had barely found her feet within it.
With a murmured instruction to Magnus to keep an eye on Imeeya, Vangelis left the two of them standing before the Egyptian and the Head of the Leventi House and directed Selene out and away from the festivities. His touch upon her back was barely firm enough to touch her gown, let alone her person and it was only when her steps slowed out of sync with his own that hand pressed to silk and silk pressed to skin. Otherwise, he moved her along more with his close proximity than his touch, as he guided them out of the great gallery and down a side corridor, only belatedly realising that this was the first time they had been in each other’s presence since she had run from him on Dimitrou land over a week ago…
Basilides soaked in the entirety of his surroundings, from the ornamentation on the paláti walls to that which dripped off both Greek and Egyptian bodies in fluttering fabrics and jewels. It was not all pure aesthetic enjoyment, though, as he observed the frequency of certain hues and fabrics. While he was blessed enough not to know the finer details of how fabrics and dyes were made, he knew a great deal about them, as well as precious metals, jewels, and oddly enough, furniture and decor. However, styles were known to have changed with each expansion and new connection the Greek kingdoms made across the Mediterranean, and he had not been privvy to much beyond the fabrics and resources used for the troupe. It was time to be refreshed on it.
Perhaps, another blessing within that was his tightening connection with the Leventi family over the years. With the Ladies Evelli and Eirini both bearing so many beautiful daughters, all of the noblewomen were in essence the perfect embodiments of korai, the ideal vision of a woman. Of course eyes would be on them when it came to the current styles and fashions, but so as well with the royal families, too.
It was not lost on him that his new companion, Dorothea of Dimitrou, was not cut from exactly the same cloth as his friend Nana. In fact, quite opposite. He was cautious not to let her denial of his offered arm alter his expression, but it irked him.
Yes, he was commonborn, but he knew his manners and, barring their minor collision, had offered her kind words and charm. He even had gone so far as to give a slightly more ostentatious bow to her with his court-appropriate theatricality that usually thrilled or at least amused other women of noble stock. And yet, the young woman did not so much as crack a smile.
Bas was not used to his charms not working, and though irrational and completely unimportant given their current situation, he felt much like a bird that had been rained on, wishing to shake this feeling off his wings with a simple flutter. None the less, offending others or trying to hard were not traits of a good merchant, and he knew better than to push....despite the fact that his mind wanted to pry into her interests and find some way to connect.
Nana found herself enthralled in watching the interactions between the Prince and the General, but felt her mood shift slightly as Selene was presented to the stunning Egyptian man. While Bas knew his preferences were a bit particular when it came to attraction, there was no denying Selene of Leventi's beauty, particularly in her chosen wardrobe for the night. There was no doubt in his mind that, should the peace treaty be reaffirmed on this evening, he would certainly need to establish some imports from overseas to fit the coming demand for similar styles.
Out of support for his dear friend, he gave Nana's arm a little squeeze with his own as a touch of encouragement as well as a silent hope that her sister receiving attention from the foreign delegation would not set off her mood. It was never his place to say it aloud, but he was aware of the tension - jealousy fueled or not - that existed between certain sisters.
Before conjuring up some sort of compliment or distracting topic for his friend, Dorothea's query caused him to turn his head towards her with a slightly raised brow, then a curling soft smile. Polite conversation or not, this was progress.
"Yes, I do travel frequently, my Lady. I was, until recently, a member of the Children of Mnemosyne, as the troupe's producer. Sadly, we never made it as far as Egypt...though that would have been delightful." As he spoke, his eyes innocuously slid back to the back of the Egyptian General. If he had all the money in the world, he would have loved to bring the troupe there. First priority with getting the troupe back together would be to build the ampitheatre somewhere in Taengea...which also cost money.
"Regardless, the troupe has since...taken a hiatus and I have returned to my family's luxury goods trade out of Acaris. In the days to come, I will be set to travel again. We hope to establish a tighter connection with merchants in Judea and perhaps Egypt if all goes well. Though I will be the first to admit, my Coptic and Hebrew need some work."
Again, he flashed a charming smile, trying to see if she would reflect one back at him. He had no attraction to her, necessarily, so there was no endgame there. However, he simply did not like the idea of not being liked. It was an issue.
His attentions returned to the interactions with the Egyptians when there was a slight shift in the music that drew his attention to the collection of musicians entertaining for the night. A slight smirk started on his face as he recognized Hesiodos' mop of blond hair, which was rather finely manicured for the event. The bard could clean up rather well. Apart from simply seeing a friend across the room, Bas felt a tiny release of relief simply seeing another non-noble in the room - there was always an unspoken camaraderie in such instances.
"My Ladies, would you care for some wine? I hear it is from Condos."
His eyes took another scan around the room and lighted on their hostess for the night, Princess Xene of Mikaelidas. It had been quite some time since he had met with the young woman face to face, usually during the preparations for the Festival of Dionysus each season, but he would be remiss to not thank her for allowing his attendance under these new circumstances.
The question was directed at both of the noblewomen in his presence, but he turned to Nana and asked in quieter tones, "And, if it would not be too much trouble, I do wish to have a short audience with the Princess."
The funny thing about emptiness was that it was typical a temporary state of existence. While the small bit of parchment she’d brought with her had begun as a blank canvas it quickly became a muddling of features that blended but failed to build. They were not pieced together properly, rather they existed solely to be puzzled together when the time allowed. Despite being rather jumbled they took up space. More perhaps than she had originally anticipated. When it was all said and done there wasn’t a spare inch to be found. Unfortunately that meant that her distraction was as temporary as her paper’s emptiness. Rolling the small bit up around her lead she tucked it safely back within her belt. Somewhere safe where it wouldn’t be seen. While she was by no means all that well versed at hiding her emotions she did manage not to look too terribly disappointed.
Still without the art to occupy her she found herself being far more productive. At least in the sense she was sure her family would have preferred. Since she was no longer focused on sketching the physical attributes of the Egyptian she had the freedom to allow her eyes to wander. Initially they remained relative to their initial target. Moving from the delegate toward the men who held his company. That was the idea, wasn’t it? What her mother had instructed her to do? Look for someone who she would like to be introduced to. Well that was easier said than done. Those who gathered closest to the center of activity were men she knew. Some were even family. Those that were not were hardly suitable for her.
When Selene moved to join them she could only truly stare in wonder. Not only because of what her eldest sister wore but because of the reaction that she earned from those present. It was an artform in its own right. Painting a portrait of attraction with the tactful manipulation of her figure. Imma’s breath built within her throat, growing thick and heavy. As she swallowed the blockage she wondered if she would ever be so ostentatious or if she would forever be meek. Selene easily radiated like the evening star. It was a standard she could scarcely imagine living up to. As the crowd around the Egyptian grew she noticed a few familiar faces. Some more so because of the part they played in her own life, but others were familiar only because of who they were to those she cared about.
Among them were the Colchian Crown Prince and her own aunt. Each providing her with an entirely different thought process. Eirini would never be anything but statuesque and immaculate. Every time Imma had ever seen her she had been taken aback by not only her beauty but the way she carried herself. So grand with a seeming lack of imperfection. Standing so close to Selene she couldn’t help but compare the two. Like night and day they were both exquisite and yet so vastly different. The Prince? He was considered only in the way one might assess any of their siblings suitors. It wasn’t hard to see where his interest was, not if you were observant enough. The silent indicators were there in his body language. Tipping her eyes from one face to the next she took it all in, watching and learning what she was able from their interactions.
The moment Vangelis’ hand moved toward Selene’s back she knew the pair would be on their way. Their departure seemed a suitable enough time to redistribute her attention. Imma always began where she was most comfortable, which was with her sisters. Though she soon found herself quite disappointed. Theo was with Achilles and they were similarly on their way out. Their departure was the first time she truly found her smile turning into a frown. Not because she disapproved of their choice by any means but because she wished she’d had a moment to see her sister. Theo had always been someone she adored and likely would have even if they’d not been born of the same womb. There was simply a quality to her sister’s demeanor that Imma found enchanting. A subtle sigh slid over her tongue but fell short of the environment. The last sister she could have counted on at that point was Nana.
In particular she didn’t really think Nana was the right choice, not given her mother’s insistence that she be watched so closely. Moreover Nana was known to be a bit of a troublesome girl. Nevertheless she adored her as she did all her siblings. When she spotted Nana on the arm of a man, however, that thought went out the window. Was that the merchant? A curious tilt of her head offered a different angle for which to study them from. It was an unfortunately short-lived stare though. One that ended the second she saw Nana’s eyes move her way. Imma wasn’t about to be caught staring at Nana or rather the man whom she’d chosen to attach herself to. While her older sisters might not have minded her curious stares, Nana was the sort who claimed things. The last thing she needed was her vivacious sister whisper yelling at her about keeping her eyes and hands to herself.
Thankfully she had other things to distract herself. The commotion nearby had gathered a bit of attention. Likely more than her cousin had hoped for. Imma felt for Evangelina, deeply. Clumsy mistakes were one of her greatest fortes. The more bodies who began to gather about her the easier it was to see Evie’s tension escalate. Whatever possessed her to start moving she didn’t know. Perhaps some desire to simply be of service? It was what she did best after all. Imma was never the sort to stand in the metaphorical spotlight. That was left to those who were better suited to it. What she did well was support those who needed it most. Making her way toward the small gathering she readied herself with the nerve necessary to speak. Which was a great deal more than she’d initially anticipated.
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” The voice was soft but not entirely frail. Sweet was perhaps the best way to describe it. Though as she interjected herself she found herself quickly adjusted her address with the depression of her body in polite curtsy. “My Lord.” Paying Niko the respect his station deserved was second nature to her. Following it with the pristine appearance of a smile was inherently her. “I do hate to be a bother but I would love to borrow my cousin if it is not too large an inconvenience.” The dulcet tone remained ever-present in her words. Allowing her gaze to move to her cousin as she struggled to regain her footing and avoid further mishap. “Evangelina would you be kind enough to lend me your aid? This is my first time at the palati and I could use a more experienced companion.”
Imma was doing her best to not only give her cousin the escape route she needed but to provide herself with a much needed escort. This wasn’t the sort of environment she was used to by any means, but standing at her mother’s side felt every bit as awkward. Not that she had anything against her mother at all. Imma simply didn’t wish to be a burden in that way. Additionally she believed there was as much to be learned from others as there was her own mother. A different vantage perhaps than one would find from their mother’s side. Though hopefully not one found of the floor. There was of course a tiny tinge of fear in her that Evangelina would refuse her and then she’d be left standing just as awkwardly as she had to begin with. Though that was a risk she was willing to take in order to better serve her family and herself.
As she stood near Vangelis, she noticed a nod in Evangelina’s direction, but Imeeya’s intentions at this event were more politically than socially inclined. Perhaps she would talk with the Leventi woman later, but for now, she wanted to keep an eye on the Egyptian. Or rather she would have if she hadn’t felt as if she would be ogling him with how little he was wearing. Still, she kept track of what he was doing, watching the general move throughout the room, looking to see who interacted with him and how. With Irakles directing the events, Imeeya watched as the general was introduced first to his own sons, and then to a few other nobles Imeeya was not familiar with by sight.
Then, Selene was invited over to be introduced to the Egyptian general. Imeeya couldn’t help but notice her cousin’s attention on the woman as she walked over. Next thing she knew, they were moving over towards the small group of people along with Vangelis. Finally, the chance was coming where they might get introduced to the general himself. But it wasn’t to be, Imeeya couldn’t help but feel her irritation growing as Vangelis spoke confrontationally to the general. This wasn’t how one went about speaking to a foreign dignity, certainly not if one wanted to make a good impression. But it was becoming clear that Vangelis didn’t care about what impression he made on the general. In fact, it seemed the only thing he cared about was getting Selene out of the Egyptians, admittedly ogling, sight.
As Vangelis swept Selene away, Imeeya saw an opportunity to make her own impression on this foreigner. For a moment she stared at the ground, clenching her jaw, trying to shake her irritation at Vangelis and not sure where she could possibly look at this only partially clothed man. While an apology for her cousin’s behavior would have been the perfect opening to talk to the general, Imeeya was never one for apologies if she could help it, nor did she want to presume to speak for Vangelis, who, even if her cousin, was also her prince. For a moment the thoughts warred in her mind as to what she should say to this man until finally, it came to her.
She strode forward into the space that Vangelis and Selene had just vacated, looking the Egyptian square in the eye, as much because of the fact that she had no idea of where else to look as to project confidence. ”I see you have met my cousin, Sirdar.”” Imeeya greeted him, her expression conveying a carefully curated amount of exasperation with Vangelis, but not enough to let him think she was being apologetic. She spoke in Greek. While she had studied some Coptic, she was not confident enough in her grasp of the language, and it wouldn’t do to put herself in a situation where she could not project confidence. ”I’m Lady Imeeya of Drakos, from Colchis. I hope you have been enjoying your stay in Taengea as much as we had been.” The greeting was a simple, polite one. Just enough to get her foot in the door and hopefully not make too many waves when she was already being so bold as to introduce herself. Behind her carefully maintained expression, her heart was doing flips of joy. Here she was, actually talking to a foreign dignitary. Here she had the potential to actually do something useful with her life.
The Lady Evangelina had always been feisty. For as long as Nikos had known the girl, she had met his flirts with quick comments of her own, although they had devolved over the years from coy snickers to teasing quips to the snark she shot at him now. Like an ever-evolving dance, they met each other toe-to-toe, and with each interaction, Nikos was determined to maintain his lead and keep his hold on the reigns of a woman that possessed more spunk than any mare her family had bred.
Her scathing remarks were enticing.
As the lady continue to lay at his feet, he heard the lyre player speak as well, and Nikos only watched with delight as her face inevitably twisted from her own smug disgust at seeing him to horror upon processing the musician's own flirts. Her doe-eyed expression of panic soon resolved itself into a slightly more-calm face of alarm as she grasped his arm along with the singer's and hoisted herself onto her feet. With not one but two charmers encircling her, Nikos could tell that all the girl wanted was to be free of their presence, but he couldn't bring himself to let her be without one final quip.
As the maiden quickly disengaged her hand from his arm, he let his fingertips lightly graze her skin before voicing his own acerbic remark at her expense. "It seems I must extend my apologies to you once again, Lady Evangelina. It was thoughtless of me to forget how you've exposed yourself to all House Condos has to offer on so many occasions that it's only natural for you to have built up an immunity or two." Before he could cut her any deeper, a softer voice interjected his thoughts, and when he turned to acknowledge the voice he was met by the sight of a young girl on the cusp of womanhood. Blonde and petite, the young lady was quite pretty, an almost unrecognizable version of the child Nikos had seen from a distance once or twice.
"Lady Imma." Nikos returned the young Leventi's polite greeting before listening as she requested Evangelina's presence. He glanced back towards the elder woman, intent on releasing her from his metaphorical grip, only to find that she had backed away from him and was currently stepping on someone else's toes. He stifled a chuckle before answering the girl, "Of course. I will not keep her from you." Having given Evangelina the escape she had so been craving and accomplishing his original goal of merely irritating her, Nikos himself backed away from the group, intent on searching the throngs for another familiar face to converse with, perhaps his father, but not without shooting the lady a wink before wading into the crowds.