GoldenCat/ShadesOfEventide01

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Full Circle

It has been a little while.

After the events of the titanic battle, the Exalted took time to heal. To heal their wounds, to heal their soul. On the camps mounted inside the broken city of Spire, the corpses were burnt, the items of power wore by the enemy army locked away. Outside of the city, Fire’s End, the place where the Army of Blood and Fire fell, is still a place littered by shadows, wails, all manner of flowers and titanic bones... and forever it will be a remainder of their great battle. Light was shed there to prevent a Shadowland’s rise, but it will be still, forever, a place of disquiet. And inside the city...

A moment before the General’s last breath, he broke one of Spire’s seals. The city trembled. The Palace of Timeless Winters, the great structure at its center – the Spire that gives the city its name – shook. It begun to... peel away. Only, the layers peeled away stopped mid-air, like branches from a tree, creating many towers of ice at its ends. The Palace unfurled the new shape of the Spire, much as, accross the city, the seals opened. The city had already taken a harsh blow – so many within it disposed by the dead, made a crimson spetacle of, the waterways around the great tower turning red... and most of its gods crushed as well – but as they appeared, they burnt several districts simply with their rise.

Before their rise, as the seals came to life around them, forming structures of ice and bone, a group of the best of Windian sorcerers flew into the the Palace of Timeless Winters. They walked into a terrifying sight – recently opened sections of the Palace, filled with burning ghosts, awakening from their long slumber and filled with the waves of otherworldly essence that seemed to fill the city more and more with every passing moment.... and the seals. Titanic structures within, like paintings, seals upon seals of Solar might holding something great back... and more recent seals holding the city itself back. As it reasserted its true form as a city of legends, dark things began to leak out. Ghosts filled with nether essence walked the streets, the things from the edges of the world screeched into being, more real and deadly than in Zsofiska’s celebration, only the forerunners of something the Exalted drained from a most titanic battle could only watch from afar. The skies shifted color to ashen, and a thick mist of pure, crackling essence surrounded the city.

Things did not look good, for a moment.

Somehow, in the second great victory of this day, that will be famous, but neverthless not as famous as the defeat of the front line of a Deathlord’s army, the Windian sorcerers managed to, crudely, seal away that great power that could suffuse ghosts and edges and lost men by just being close to the surface. Their method was, however, desperate, cauterizing the seal shut, and breaking the edges of the paiting, letting the four great beasts flee.

After that, the tremors calmed, the essence dispersed, and the rest of the night seemed much more uneventful.

The Windian army camped between the City and Fire’s End, not wishing to commit for all to be within its walls, but spending a long time helping the wounded within. Eventually, Alexsei, Opal, Leonas and Fiona walked into the Spire, their knowledge garnering them several insights in the newly-awoken First Age city. They were able to ascertain there was no further danger, and although they knew now what was sealed, they knew whatever was held back by Spire was also what powered it – hence why the city lay dormant and why it woke up when it was so close to the fore. They fine-tuned the essence flows within the city, making it peaceful, the Palace itself receiving its own illumination, climate controls, and many, many other small luxuries. After that, it was not long before the army moved in.

It was not long before those left in the Boil returned, after three days, Alexander, Kanti, Seventh Moon and the Child of Wyld Days. They came with the Zephyr, and even broken beyond most possible repair, the survivors of Spire heard they were not alone in their newfound freedom, or in their disaster.

The war room of the Palace of Timeless Winters, with its round table, used many times by the royals of Whiteshield to coordinate battle with the Windians against the Barbarians that every so often raided the neutral space between the kingdoms was now a thing of wonder, with its lights and the round table – discs in the shape of nine magical materials with an adamant center – now sporting a number of essence-fueled functions.

Looking at it, the Prince had an idea.

The fulfillment of his dreams. The fulfillment of his hopes.

He knew that would be where they would meet. And that is where, in the afternoon of the 19th of Resplendent Air, with heavy storm clouds and pouring rain and thunder outside, the Exalted meet. And not just any Exalted. Sat in the round table, the Prince Alexander Holysword waited for those he had summoned. Cael had done it for him, letting all those – each and every one whom he had met, even if briefly – know they were expected in this reunion. Not those of the army that helped his country, but those that had saved his life, in so many ways, those that seemed so gravitate so loosely around him.

With some luck, that would change today.

Alexsei Krauser, the Black Wing of Conclusion.
Cael Pattona, the Windwraith.
Child of Wyld Days, The Snow Monkey.
Cloud in Dawn, the Frozen Swan
Gennadi Ilkov, the Fortune’s Fool
Exceedingly Sublime Opal, the Beauty of the Mountain.
Fiona, the Enchantress of Veils and Chains.
Izabella de Windia, Demonic Gale Iselsis.
Kanti no Freville, the Garda Bird, the Spear Saint.
Ryshassa Krauser, the Unfurled Belladonna.
Selina de Windia, the Dark Angel.
Seventh Moon, the Howl in the Seventh Night.
Valencia Silverstar, the Silver Angel.
Vorpal deFay, the Pale Angel.

One could say that gathering all those volatile elements in a single room could only lead to madness and tragedy.
One could say that gathering all those heroic figures in a single room could only lead to glory.

One would be right.

Alexander: The prince ran his hand along the rings of the Round Table, lost in thought and nostalgia. Had it been all that long before he broke into this room uninvited to see where some of the greatest military decisions in Whiteshield were taken? Before his father had brought him here to witness one, just to be bored to tears with an actual bureaucratic meeting? Had it been that long before he slept into a room not too many floors down, or had been to the galas in its great ballrooms?

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, a mix of strange and surreal covered the world. He looked out the window and saw the towers of ice and ivory that sprouted from the spire, with the ‘branches’ leading to them... the Spire seemed more like a strange tree more than a tower, now. And the essence... it still felt tainted, charged, in the air. And the Prince himself... wearing royal clothes, with Ainerach sheathed at his hip, adjusting the present of Raksha, the shining halo above his forehead, shining like a crown of light...

It felt like a lifetime ago...

He thought of those that died that day. He was not there to hear... so many died into the General’s hands. But of the real heroes on that front, the big names were all alive. Iselsis and Ice were nearly touched by the void. But only nearly. The team of Windians that journeyed into the Palace of Timeless Winters was not so lucky. Leonas du Mistlav was the only one of the team of sorcerous engineers that walked out of it in one piece. But the others...

Archren Emerald
Delwyn Snow
Silen Purewing
Iaini Summerswind
Isidor Smirnova

He would remember their names of those poor heroes... history would, hopefully. He stood here now, because of them. He tried to think of them, and not of what he was about to do. Butterflies filled his stomach, and those butterflies got butterflies on their stomachs, when he thought of what he was about to do. On everyone he called there, and who would soon either look at him with impatience, or try to tear one another apart.

I must be going crazy... Will this work? This has to work. It has to.

He waited, as lighting struck outside. He would not hear the thunder if he did not want, with a word the room would be sealed off from such sounds, blissfully silent and detached from the world in anything but its visuals...

He let the thunder be heard. It distracted him.

Kanti: Kanti kneeled silently in the corner of the room, out of Alex's line of sight, concentrating simply on being small and unnoticed, so as not to distract the Prince from what he was thinking, to give him some time to relax and to calm himself before everyone else arrived.

Before she arrived.
Before his lady arrived.
Before it all started.

Ryshassa Krauser: Ryshassa enters the room, her delicate features both solemn and pensive. It is one of the rare moments she is not clad in a kimono, for she has kept the gown Kanti brought her after she attempted to heal her, and decided to wear it again this day.

Twilight shows some of the most expressive and numerous facets of the Sun. This time she comes clothed in the very last vestiges of color before nightfall. It is floor-length heavy silk, purple juxtaposed with deep, encroaching black, rich and decadent folds draped in pintucked layers from her hips to her feet. The bodice is snug fitted and elegantly embroidered, the shoulders puffed and trimmed with lace, the neckline high and filled with lace from the collar down to the bodice line, showing just a bare hint of cleavage. To compliment the gown she wears a pair of elbow length black lace gloves and heeled, fur-lined black boots that rise up to thigh length under the generous skirt. Though definitely not her usual style, it is well suited for vestments of mourning, a testament to all those who lost their lives battling the undead in the Boil and at Spire.

Her hair, too, has been attended to meticulously. She has ironed it into a multitude of curls, the dark locks swept up into a complex knot pinned with an onyx and amethyst encrusted butterfly pin -- one of Alexsei's many gifts to her, no doubt -- with hints of gold shimmering with the jewels. And the Caduceus Curatoris hovering beside her is more than a hint of gold, all gilded scales and fangs and feathers along a slender shaft taller than she is, its presence a testament to her readiness for the unexpected.

The healer inclines her head to the Prince as she emerges further into the room, her eyes still showing something strained, something... haunted... but her face is a practiced mask of calm. She takes a seat towards the other side of the Table, so that she may look up at Alexander without moving her chair. This would be his moment now -- the first time he has gathered all of them here at once, to address them as a whole, as a group.

Inwardly, she wishes Kanti did not look so small. It feels too -- familiar. And that worries her.

Alexsei Krauser: And into the room he strides, silence following close behind him.

The Black Wing of Conclusion is clad in heavy, floor length mourning robes, black as a raven's feather. The sleeves cut in a graceful, gentle curve and fall all the way to the ground, sinuoud patterns of violets in various stages of blooming - the story of a flower from birth till death - traced along them. The high neckline is highlined in deep crismson, and the straight enclosure trails down his chest all the way to his waist. Clasps of onyx and ruby keep the garment closed, and patterns of violet feathers dance gently among them, falling alongside the heavy fabric.

His hair is bound into a high topknot weaved into a thick bun, keeping his waist lenght hair away from his back in a neat arrangement. Upon his nose rest his delicate round spectacles, and his expression is both solemn and downcast, dignified yet sorrowful. The fabric of his heavy robes makes no sound as it brushes the floor with each of his steps, as if the rustling had been absorbed by... something else.

Gentle sorrow is his mask as he politely nods to the Prince, and upon notice also inclines his head momentarily to Kanti - seeing her form withdrawn, witnessing for himself the things Ryshassa had recounted to him - and yet no words escape his lips. He walks behind Ryshassa, sitting himself besides her, in a spot where he would be able to watch the prince without obstructing nor being obstructed by anybody. He places his hands on his lap, reamaining straight as a statue as violet eyes watch the young heir to the Holysword family.

To those who would see him, it would very well seem like Alexsei Krauser is in mourning. Though exactly what the Black Wing of Conclusion mourns is something he does not voice.

Alexander: "Hello, Ryshassa, Alexsei. You have been quite ponctual!"

"Thank you for coming..."
As he says this, he turns to Kanti, asking her to come, to stand close to him.

She was one of those he wished to address today, after all.

Kanti: Kanti smiles in greeting to both Ryshassa and Alexsei Krauser, flowing smoothly to her feet and seeming to loose some of the quietness and the smallness as people are paying her attention once more, walking over to stand next to the Prince, hands held loosely behind her back.

Cael: Cael steps quietly into the room, clad in his usual whites and blacks, hair shimmering slightly in the lights of room. He nods to the Prince and to Kanti, and then to the pair of Kraussers before taking a seat a little across from where the Prince will be seated, leaning back in his chair.

Seventh Moon: The place was different than Moon remembered it being from the last time he was here. Seemed taller. Didn't have all those branching towers either.

And this time there were no corpses roped to the side.

Healed in body, if not in mind, the Lunar had been uncustomarily quiet since he woke from the coma under Ryshassa and Kanti's care. Had too much to think about anymore. Too much happening too fast. The trip out here was eating time he probably didn't have, but at least it was giving him a chance to think.

Brow creased into a brooding glare as he stepped into the room, Seventh Moon glanced up at Alex and gave the prince a nod before moving on. He saw Kanti too, hidden in the prince's shadow, and put on a smile for her and waved. Still hadn't yet thanked her saving his life. Might not at all. Wasn't usually his way, but he'd make sure she knew somehow.

Most of his old clothes had been torn to shreds during his "talk" with the other Lunar, so Moon came clad in an outfit exceptionally clean and well-kept compared to his usual attire and a suede coat thick with fur against the northern chill instead of his usual leather coat. It had finally been abused past the point of endurance.

Walking around the length of the table to a high window on the opposite wall and hoisting himself up onto the ledge. Back braced on one side of the window, he kept one leg bent at the knee and drawn up near his chest and the other stretched out to the other side of the window. Moon rested an arm over his bent leg and looked out the window, watching the door with scent and sound instead.

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: Opal entered the room, immaculate in her robes. She looked like she had spent the day in a bath, not battling a horror or containing a tragity. She had adopted a long, silken kimono for this occasion. White, obviously, but instead of the severe blankness of the majority of her attire, it contained all the shades of marble. The stark mother-of-pearl was intertwined with the veinous swirl of gentle pink and soft browns. They formed organic, arcane patterns as she shifted.

Though her hair was coifed, and her form showed no signs of disarray, something hung heavy in her eyes.

Fatigue.
Struggle.
And the countless dead.

Still, appearances had to be maintained, so she effected a curtsey to them all, and even kneeled briefly before Alexander. She rose after, a poem in spectical, and moved to be unobtrusive. She took a second glance at the halo about his head, and frowned ever so faintly.

I have just knelt to a man who wreaths himself in chaos. A frown touched her bage lips.

Alexander: "Hello, Opal." He nods, offering her to sit closer to the light.

He nods to Cael, and a smile crossed between them is all they need. And the hound enters...

Iselsis: Iselsis wanders in. Her coat was undone and open, moving freely behind her. Seemingly too light to be of any value in stopping blows. The tenebrous coat seemed to wrap around her and sway behind her like a giant ink blot. Of course, this was nothing new, but this was the first time she wasn't loafing around in the shadows with it. Beneath it a greyish black leather bodysuit with many, many buckles to make it skintight and easy to move in. Her scarf hung over her neck, also undone, and on her head the hat Faina had given her. Wingless once more.

Which she grabs and takes off as she enters the room and takes a nearby seat, not really too nearby anyone.

She seemed different from before. More confident somehow. Or maybe just less unwarrantedly cocky. She also wasn't hiding herself away from prying eyes; after all there was nowhere she could hide in this place after that battle. Everyone knew her and what she was. Though it did feel sort of pleasant to not have to hide anymore, worried about unkind tongues.

She places the hat before her on the table and leans back. "Sorry if I'm a bit late. I was outside having a smoke first."

Odd to those who hadn't seen her trick before, because there wasn't a drop of rain on her. She grins at moon and tips him a lazy wave. "Heya. You didn't kick it in my absence. Good for you."

She nodded at Alexsei and Ryshy, and then the prince, Kanti and Opal, unsure of what to really say to any of them right now.

Ryshassa Krauser: Ryshassa turns to the Prince, bowing her head once more. "Yes, well, this is not an event I would have liked to miss. I just had an early start, and well, my wardrobe was provided for me already." She looks at Kanti, smiling gently. There ought to be no discomfort or hard feelings for what happened or what she had seen.

That was what she wanted to believe.

Her hand reaches over to take Alexsei's hand under the cover of the table, as her eyes roam over the others who have arrived. There was Cael, impeccable as always, seemingly relaxed despite the momentousness of this occasion. That was no surprise. Opal's appearance strikes chords of both amusement and a hint of envy, for this time it is another wearing the kimono besides herself, and upon such a perfect and statuesque body.

Though Moon does not pay her an inordinate amount of attention -- and understandably, as the most time she spent in his presence was when he was comatose -- Ryshassa still takes care to make eye contact with him and smile, a silent greeting and acknowledgment, before he crosses the room and hops onto the window ledge.

Vorpal: "Oi", comes the familiar greetings from the doorway and...

...a stranger walks in.

Black has always been a signature color or Vorpal deFay. Not only does it contrast nicely with her white skin and hair, but black is also solemn and ominous - the perfect color for those who wish to intimidate others by their appearance alone. This is a fact dearly loved by so many assassins, Abyssals and Deathlords throughout Creation and Vorpal -- well, she is no different. Intimidation has been such an important part of her life for so long that she has taken to wearing black and dark clothes almost exclusively.

For a reason or another, the Pale Angel has chosen to break that habit today.

The woman who steps into the meeting chamber is dressed in pure white. Somewhere from the bowels of the freshly reborn First-Age city she had apparently discovered an age-old wardrobe and plundered its treasures to her own use. The pair of white boots covering her legs have strangely high heels. Her calf-long winter coat has been cut in a manner that is both far more advanced and much more ancient than any clothes designed in the Second Age. The soft black fur lining its hems, cuffs and the collar is the only concession Vorpal has made for her previous color scheme. She has even chosen to leave her cloak out, leaving only the great hilt of her enormous sword to jut in a lonely manner up from behind her shoulder.

Beyond the change in attire, however, the Pale Angel remains much the same. She pauses by the door to idly give everyone a short, inspecting glance, to ascertain her presence in the room, before striding further in. "Are we ready soon?"

Alexsei Krauser: He politely nods to the prince, and for a moment there might be the hint of a smile on his lips. "Thank you, Prince Alexander. The night has been short, and so I saw no reason not to use the idle time to get ready." He gives a polite nod to everyone who enters, even those he had only heard of and not yet met personally - or at length. He inclines his head a little bit lower for Cael, Iselsis and the Pale Angel, but otherwise says nothing.

Alexander: She was white...

She was white!

Smiling, the prince has to fight down the urge to run through the room and glomping the beautiful visage in front of him,

"Welcome, Milady." Is all he says, but his face says it all.
Her presence scared so many of his fears away...

Vorpal: "You like it?" the Pale Angel asks idly, spreading her hands a little and tilting her hips to shift her weight to one foot.

Gennadi: There is a time for life and a time for death, a time for joy and a time for hate. There is also a time to stroll into a world-shaping meeting with a smile and a laugh. And if there isn't, well, something can be done about that.

Gennadi has already made it to a chair before his presence registers, and he thumps into one of the seats and props his feet up on the table in one smooth motion, leaning back and running hands through crimson-streaked black hair afterwards. He itches at new sideburns, blinking at the people around him. "What? I can be a little late, I knew what was gonna happen anyway."

Alexander: "It is breathtaking. Simply... gorgeous."

Ryshassa Krauser: "Hello, Iselsis," Ryshassa speaks up this time for the demon-touched woman, glad to see her so casually energetic. It strikes her that Iselsis and Moon could get along quite well, if they did not already.

And now the Pale Angel, whom Ryshassa has not seen much of since the battle and the events within Spire, no doubt preoccupied with reorganizing and reassessing the troops with Valencia. Ryshassa's head tilts to one side, seeing the change in attire; she thought the change of color was still quite fitting for her, especially when paired with a cut and style reminiscent of a distant age. Much as everything else in Spire itself has become... a rebirth of ancient times.

"It is good to see everyone in good health," Ryshassa comments -- no doubt she has contributed a great deal to that fact, but it still pleases her anyway -- then raises her eyebrow as Gennadi enters. "Actually, you are not completely late. It seems the lady Aine has not made her appearance yet."

Iselsis: She glares at Gennadi, "Even I'm aware this table is not the kind you put your feet on top of, Gennadi.", then smiles for half a second at Ryshy at the greeting, before resuming the glaring at the sidereal.

• They enter, without any fanfare at all, not too far behind the Pale Angel. Both of them...oddly -- one wouldn't think the Dark and Silver Angels would be together. But they are.
  
  Valencia leads, silent and regal as always, attired in seemingly the same military dress uniform which Alexander and the others had seen that day they planned for war in her Windia manse. Long sleeved white uniform coat and shirt paired with a skirt that reaches half-way down to her calves -- dark stockings hiding the runes on the inside curve of one leg. No decoration besides her home unit's insignia and the national pin on her lapels. Winter sheathed and belted at her left side.
  
  Selina...is dressed much the same -- black wings a contrast to the pure white dress uniform she shares with the older woman. Only the insignia of the Duchy of Windia on her lapels along with the national pin is different. Dreamshard is at her left side, her gaze not so serene as Valencia's. A bit nervous, self conscious for being seen in such. But she still follows the Lunar's lead.
  
  Valencia nods to the rest, the ghost of a smile, oh so subtle, on her face. Selina grins somewhat sheepishly, turquoise eyes darting about the assembled group.

• Not too long after Valencia, Dorian Tierney walks in, with quite a few pages of report under his arm. Ficklers of lighting played over him, his wings like stormclouds as usual. He may have taken the time to look over and organize the reports, but the Tierney firebrand was not to come without proper regalia, Blue and Black jade mixing in his jacket like serpents in storm skies...

Gennadi: "Oh! Great. Wake me when she gets here." He looks Vorpal up and down, half appreciation and half appraisal. He lazily points the end of a yet to be lit cigarette at Ise. "Darling, I know it's biological, but sometimes you just gotta have stones." The cigarette turns to Vorpal, and he manages to kick the tired insolence partway out of his voice. "Oh, and I have an apology for you. Later."

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: Opal, with perfect timing, smacks Genn gently on the back of his head, before serenely taking a seat next to him, and folding her hands in her lap.

She turns to look at Genn and gives him a large, comically large smile. This fades, and she looks back toward Alexander.

Alexander: "Gennadi, lower the feet. Please." Alex asks, Solar command in his voice... and a little bit of desperation.

This is supposed to be serious...

Vorpal: "Late as usual", the Pale Angel sighs. She's about to add something else, probably about lateness being typical for an oh-so-noble ladyship, but cuts short as she notices the arrival of the two Winlandian Exalts.

Vorpal drops her hands to her sides and gives the two latecomers a short nod of acknowledgement. Then she strides forth again, heels clacking softly on the smooth floor. Pausing only to give Gennadi a short "Hrm" as a way of signaling that she had heard his words and would hold on to them, she makes her way up to Iselsis. "You all right now, sharpshooter?

Iselsis: Ise glances over as Valencia and Selina enter. The first she only gauges for any measure of recognition, since she definately remembered her. Not her proudest moment either. To Selina she seems rather neutral. Possibly odd after the explosion Alexsei had witnessed between them before. Then turning back to Gennadi.

"You're not supposed to smoke either. It'll linger."

And when Vorpal comes up to check on her she nods casually, "I'm fine, aside from a newly acquired dose of healthy cynicism. But I promise not to let it bother anyone too much."

• Gennadi , perhaps unsurprisingly, has only a laugh for that. "See? Stones." Nonetheless he spins the cigarette through nimble fingers and tucks it behind his ear, saving it for later. "Little Al, consider this" He taps his heel on the table. "A bit of a lesson. Someone else is always willing to trample what you believe in underfoot." Still, he swings them off and down, even if slower than he might have without that quite note of desperation.

Kanti: Kanti smiles to Moon, as he comes into the room, a small smile from behind the princes back, before she ducks back as Selina enters in military white and pomp, looking back down to the floor of the white room.

Ryshassa Krauser: It seems white is a theme. Ryshassa allows herself a little indulgent smile. The normally darker-attired ones in white, and she in black! There are many more thoughts rummaging around in her mind that would wipe away that smile, but for the moment, it amuses her deeply.

Ryshassa has actually grown fond of the gown that Kanti had brought her, quite a lot more than she was expecting to. Perhaps it appealed to a different aspect of her, to garb herself in such crisp, elegant darkness. Perhaps it just seemed appropriate this time.

She nods to both the Dark Angel and the Silver Angel, the former's presence reminding her of the question she wanted to ask. Later. After Alexander has spoken his piece.

Valencia Silverstar: "That is an interesting fashion." Valencia says in a considering tone to Vorpal, walking over to her. "It is good we are not in court for them to see. You might just start something new with it."

Winter courts tended to go for fashions like that. All those balls and other gatherings, not much mucking about outside except for the adventurous. Still, it is not a nasty compliment.

Selina de Windia: Kanti tries to hide from her, but Selina has had her long enough to know that. Moon is there, but first she walks over to Kanti -- moving up to Alexander and looking behind him. "Hi there~." She pats Kanti's head gently, then moves back a few paces.

Seventh Moon: Moon had answered Iselsis with a good natured one-finger salute, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he kept down a chuckle at the talk spreading among the rest of the room. But he could really only keep silent for so much and a familiar scent finally forced words out of him.

"What the fuck are you wearin'?" Moon's voice rang out suddenly. His eyes hadn't moved from the window, but they were focused now on the glass rather than what lay beyond it. Focused, specifically, at the black winged Windian who had entered almost last into the room. They were his first words to anyone in hours and his voice rasped with disuse.

Lulling to the side, he peered over the heads of the others in the room and looked down at Selina, mouth twitching back into a bemused smirk. "Hope the standard military stick up the ass don't come with the outfit darlin'."

Vorpal: Vorpal doesn't say anything else, just taps Iselsis onto the shoulder once before moving on. She walks around the table, picks herself a seat directly on Prince Alexander's right side and plops down with little ceremony.

"Feh", Vorpal responds to Valencia with a slanted smile. "Then I would be starting something that ended ages ago. That'd be ironic... I'll have to pay your court a visit one of these days."

Gennadi: The trouble with white is that it goes with everything. For these people, especially on this day, that just won't do. A deep blue dominates his attire of velvet, matched with ornaments of silver and paired ebon cufflinks holding the sleeves of his light jacket close. "I do promise after this I'll be good, but... I'd like to be the one who got to put the 'stick' there..." He smiles apologetically at Alexander. "I think I've just about ruined humor for the day, so it's all yours."

Vorpal: "Hey, hey, hey..." she adds softly to herself at Moon's comment, half-amused, mildly annoyed.

Alexander: The prince's hand moves to Vorpal's, caressing its side softly... as he looks at Gennadi. "Well, at least I have your promise. And I hope you murdered only the humor, not the good spirits... something tells me I will need them. Badly."

Kanti: Kanti stiffens almost visibly as Selina walks right over to her, petting her and leaving her trembling slightly

"Hello, my lady D..Dark angel." she says quietly.

Valencia Silverstar: "Perhaps sometime after the war is over." Valencia offers as she moves about the table as well, sitting at Alex's left, then surveying the affair from her seat.

• Alexander smiles at Valencia, happy that she is there, that she is safe... "I am glad you could make it, lady Silverstar..."

Ryshassa Krauser: "Fashion tends to be cyclical like that," Ryshassa contributes mildly from her side of the room. "Keep something in your wardrobe and eventually it will be fashionable all over again."

She notes the fear and nervousness in Kanti's whole demeanor as the Dark Angel approaches her, and feels herself grow apprehensive as well. The crush of influences in Kanti's life, the pull of her various mistresses and masters over time... if only Kanti could at least settle with one she would truly feel comfortable with, if it was her inclination to be owned.

It was one thing to believe herself undeserving of respect and boundaries, but she could never think that another. Least of all Kanti.

Later... think about that later, Ryshassa tells herself, her fingers tightening slightly around Alexsei's hand.

Selina de Windia: "Whaaat?" Selina calls over to Moon, somewhat amused (and embarassed still). Then she looks down at Kanti, smiling faintly. "Silly Kanti, why so afraid?"

It will probably take awhile to get rid of that.

She sighs inwardly, then shrugs helplessly to the Terrestrial and moves to take a seat next to Vorpal. She beckons Moon over with one finger, lopsided smirk on her face.

Vorpal: "Fashion is an endless cycle of reincarnation", Vorpal agrees with a mild smile. She gives a warm glance over to Alex as he touches her hand. "The Immaculates should add that into their texts."

Without even realizing it herself, the Pale Angel said something that holds doubly true to her. During another age long gone, there was a lonely woman on the frozen fields, one who dressed almost exclusively in whites...

Her eyes still soft, she looks over to her other side, to the Dark Angel sitting there. "You seem to be reincarnating something, too."

Fiona: Fiona walks in, a little late, clad much as she was in the party, the golden butterfly shining on her bosom.

With a wave for most of those she knew there, she took her seat, curious about what this was about...

Cloud in Dawn: Cloud arrives in what would be considered 'fashionably late'. Smoking a cigarette, not too far afar Dorian Tierney himself, who came with a bunch of documents... Cloud himself didn't even bother waving to most of them, just taking his seat. And almost doing the same as Gennadi....

Selina de Windia: Selina looks at Vorpal, a bit bewildered. "I am?" Such an odd mental state lately...and all since the battle. Really, something must have gotten inside her head and stayed there.

Seventh Moon: Might as well join the party...

Swinging down off the window ledge at the Dark Angel's beckon, Moon headed back across the room towards the empty seat beside Selina. Leaving her as a buffer between himself and Vorpal. Perhaps not the greatest place to be, but even though he gave the Pale Angel an evil grin as he passed around behind her, the Lunar kept on his best behavior. For now.

"A'ite, so we here for any reason or this just bein' sociable man?" Moon asked, looking up at Alex expectantly as he pulled out Selina's and waited for her to sit. Let it never be said he hadn't learned anything from hanging around with rich folk. "There's still kinda a fuckin' war on, y'know? Hangin' out 'round here takin' pot-shots at each other don't exactly seem ta be a productive use a time."

Selina de Windia: Taking her seat, Selina sits primly, not looking at Valencia across from Alex. Something did transpire between them.

"Just some planning, Moon." She says with a yawn, looking about at everyone else.

Vorpal: "Winlandian uniform", the Pale Angel responds. Her mien hardens a little as Moon passes behind her, and she responds to his grin with a very much dismissive stare. "It's been a while since you last wore something like that, isn't it?" she adds, her eyes still on Moon.

Selina de Windia: "Never did, actually." Selina replies with some hesitation. "My education got cut short before I was old enough to be allowed to do that."

Alexander: “A.. alright, Moon. I... If I may have a moment of your attention...”

Alex stands, then. Standing, he looks at them all, and for a moment, there is silence.

He looks around. Days is not there yet, but... he was told he could not trust faeries. That they would come and go like the wind... what is a pity. He believes she would love this... but there was no use. If he waited just a little more...

Ryshassa Krauser: Ryshassa still looks briefly ashamed when Moon speaks up, even though the words were not addressed directly to her -- or so she thinks. "I am sure the Prince has a great many things to tell us, Moon. He is simply awaiting the right moment to speak."

Taking in the room as a whole, she finds herself wondering just how well such a disparate assortment of people form a coherent group. Certainly she would do her part to keep them healthy -- as that was her duty and her... her pleasure -- but she could sense the tension lines between several of them, the barely veiled jibes, the glances, angry or covetous in turn.

Vorpal: "Hunh." Moving her gaze away from the Lunar, Vorpal leans back in her chair and folds her arms over her chest. She stares at the table for a moment, then looks up as Alex begins to speak.

Seventh Moon: Easing in the seat behind Selina, Moon stares back at Vorpal with hardening eyes. Without moving his gaze away from Vorpal, he slipped a hand down, closing over Selina's shoulder a moment and giving it a slight squeeze, just enough to say he was glad to see her again. His other hand comes up towards his face and as he glares at the Pale Angel, grinning with wicked intent, he juts out his thumb and touches it to his throat... then swings his finger up to his nose. Thumb pressing down on his nose, other four fingers raised and wiggling, he sticks his tongue out at Vorpal and wags it up and down.

Alex rising brings a quick end to that though, just because Vorpal looks away, and Moon quickly flumps himself down into his own chair, sprawling out a bit comfortably.

Alexander: “I... guess you all wonder why I called you here...”

He stops. That would not do. It would not do at all. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.. for all of the Exalted around him, it took him but a moment. But for him... it was like an eternity. The voices in his soul had called to him more than once, since the voice of the sun seared his soul with power. More than once he had been lost, not been himself, forgotten what he had done in a haze of light. He knew what lurked inside his soul, the souls of light, power and authority, the emperors of ages past.

You keep saying you will help me.
You keep trying to guide me.
You keep taking over me.
Well, it is time to help me for real.
To guide me for real.

He looked at thousands of years of memories, and for the first time let them come. In a moment of darkness, millennia washed over him. Love. War. Dreams. Ideals. Power. Charisma. Command. The young prince closes his eyes... and asks his dreams for help.

And the king he wishes to be opens them.

He looks at them like he did millenia ago, and his presence could take the sun back.

His words came, and the rain outside of the windows stopped to hear him.
Lighting and thunder, heaven and earth, turned in nothing but an audience to him.

“I called you here, because I have been talking to all of you...
Thinking of all of you...
Thinking on all we are facing now.
Thinking of all we have faced before.”

“Some of you I have met before, countless incarnations from now... friends, foes, lovers, subjects. Some of you I have never seen before, new to this world, new to Creation itself. Just like everything going on around us. I remember my father’s worries, about death, demons, heaven and incarnate gods. I remember how he used to feel like Creation was coming crashing down, and poor Whiteshield would be just one of the many unique, wonderful snowflakes crushed under its weight. “

“There are too many threats to Creation.”

“I have met many of them. And of those I met that did not wish to hurt it...”

“Most of them are here, assembled in this room.”

“And we have... so many enemies.”

“The dead we fight...”
“Those of Sun, Moon, Stars and Elements turned to selfish ends...”
“The Bull. The Dragons and Lunars who tried to kill us.”
“They are out there... and they are organized. Very well.”

“The Order of the Dead Hand.”
“The Shining Arbiters.”
“The Circle of Shining Whispers.”
“The Chalcedony Legion”

“They are organized.”
“They are good. “
“And against them.... we will fall.”

“How many times have you seen your life hanging by a thread on their hands?”
“How many times have you been saved by another one of us?”

“My life has been saved so many times. By the Angels, when we first met. By Cael Pattonna, the day the Disciple nearly struck me down. By Alexsei Krauser, in the day a Lunar nearly had me, Cael, and the Seven Sages struck dead. By Kanti and by the Child of Wyld Days that dusk on the Boil. I myself have saved the Pale Angel, and not a few days later did I get to save Cael Pattonna himself from the Celebrant’s machines That was a few days after Seventh Moon saved the Dark Angel from the dead... and on the same day she did the same for him. Kanti and Fiona, saved from the Vestal by the Dark Angel and Moon... who came for Kanti and the Dark Angels when she needed. Opal, who saved the Dark Angel more than once... and so on. Do you see what I mean?”

Many of those instances could get many of those there embarassed or ashamed...
But his tone was completely dignified. They would not.

“We have been lucky. Every time this happened, we have been lucky.”
“We have been lucky the others have been there.”

“What I mean to say is... that the way I see it, together, we will stand. Divided, we will fall.”

“And someone has to stand.”
“Someone has to be left to.”
“Someone has to be left to save the world.”

“And I think it has to be us.”

“Are you with me in this? To organize? To be a Circle, like once before?”

“I know we have our lives. That our goals may only coincide for the moment. Some of you may be worried about this when we say we stand together... but a Circle is not something that takes control of you. It is something that complements you. It is a family. A Circle does not regulate you. It does not interfere with your agendas. It will be there to help. When we falter, the others will be there to hold us up. To give us strength.”

He looked at them for a moment, held under the power of his words, still. All those faces...
So different. Some, so strange.
So ecletic... not something homogeneous, not something he would ever choose...

“A family.”
A family!

He ran his hand over the table in front of him, its layers of many Magical Materials...
All of them.
Pehaps this is what was intended all along?

“This may very well be the strangest Circle in the history of Creation...”
“But it may very well be just what Creation needs.”
“I repeat, someone has to be left to save the world.”
He says, a plea, the emperor vanshing, the prince seeming to.. shrink, almost.
Becoming a young boy again in front of their eyes, his eyes full of light and dreams.

“Will you stand with me?”

He asks with a smile.

Seventh Moon: "... so you want us ta be ya gang?" Moon asked, surprising himself by being the first to break the silence that follows the princes request. Once he started though, he found the going easier, gradually straightening up in his chair. "Cause that's what it sounds like ta me man. All that shit ya said. One big fuckin' gang. I ain't sure I'm keen on that, y'know? I don't know shit 'bout half these people. Nice'a them ta help me out 'n all, but fuck man. Ain't like I'm tight in with most of 'um, y'know?"

He scratched the back of his head a moment before going on, as if shaking the thoughts out into their proper position. "Whats the point though? We already helped each other 'n shit. Probably keep doin' just that. Any reason ta make somethin' formal outta it? If what ya say is true, after this fuckin' war is over, we might just all go runnin' off every which way. Might even start tryin' ta go after each other."

Ryshassa Krauser: Ryshassa rises, slowly, from her seat, not leaving her spot at the table, simply rising. The black and purple silks rustle as she moves, the bottom hem slithering back down to the floor as her knees straighten.

"I realize I have less immediately at stake as the rest of you. I mean... I am a foreigner to this place. To Winlandia. I was born on the Blessed Isle, to a Great House, raised in Dynastic schooling. When my now husband brought me away from there -- after I was Chosen -- it was to ensconce me in the mountain of Gethamane, so I might have the time to recuperate and discover my true potential." There is a slight, small thread of guilt and worry that filters to Alexsei as she speaks the last sentence. For she knows for what reason his quiet sorrow consumes him now. And she wonders whether, in the brief moment the Vestal took hold of her, she failed him.

"And when I came here," she continues, "it was as my beloved's companion. I knew little of what transpired in the North outside the shell I had withdrawn into. Since then I have seen so much more, I have participated in these struggles, and even seen with my own eyes and senses how they affect some of you."

"I am a healer, first and foremost. Here you wish to accomplish a healing on a grander scale. To heal the North, to mend the strands of Fate, to drive out the sinister forces that conspire to seek it. I wish to offer, as I have already done, my own powers of healing, to bolster you so you may be better able to reach your lofty goal. And perhaps through that find a greater sense of purpose and place."

Vorpal: A figure of authority in her own right, Vorpal does not make a habit of being terribly impressed by orations made by others. The same way she broke one habit with her clothing today, however, she makes an exception with this speech. She listens intently to her prince speak, hanging on to every word, catching every point of emphasis and subtle change in tone, both the intentional and unintentional. She almost feels her heart flutter in tune with his words, his voice evoking warm feelings of love and companionship within her soul --

-- until that word.

To save the world.

The warm flame turns cold at that point. Her gaze begins to waver, then wanders away from Alex's beautiful face, drifting aimlessly across the precious table instead.

To save the world, eh. Yes, that's what we've been doing here, isn't it?

The exact opposite of what we were created to do, Selina and I.

Iselsis: Iselsis crosses her arms and looks pensively at the tabletop as she listens to Alex, and then the others afterwards.

She wasn't here in honesty. She wasn't even here to help. She was here on behalf of Windia to keep the monsters in check. By all rights, she was a traitor to the prince's cause more than anything.

Alexander: "Yes, that is right, Moon. A gang."

"But not."

"A gang takes care of its own turf. It does not see all that is around it. What I am proposing is what White Dog wanted. To join. To look at the bigger picture." It had been his idea, after all. Hearing about White Dog... Alex found out what he had to do.

"Because if we fight each other, we will be fools dancing at the edge of the abyss. This is just the beggining, Moon..."

"And I have to make sure this sort of thing never happens again. Anywhere else."

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: She listens to Alexander, Prince of Whiteshield, who's words shine with the glory of the Sun and the passion of the young. Her shadowed eyes look down at the table as she listens, words passing through her ears and laying their meaning on her soul. A generation of men had been born and fallen into twilight from the last time she had truely belonged to something in her heart. To want and be wanted.

To no longer walk a stranger in a strange land, waiting til the time when her Essence would rejoin the eternal Earth and find itself resculpted.

She looked up at Alex, and as if seeing him for the first time, found herself surprised that her heart longed for what he offered. Desperatedly longed.

Gennadi: "Moon has a point. It is not as if families are so sacred, and I do not see what benefit making our current arrangement formal has beyond, perhaps, attracting more attention to those who aren't ready for it."

Selina de Windia: His tone wipes away her hesitation, for the time, and something rises in her that she must say. Her gaze hardens. "If we do not unite against the threats we face, there will be no dawn, no new day. Only night -- I have seen it. And then nothing. Alone, none of your vaunted powers shall save you from what is to come. Know this."

Vorpal: Oh?

Vorpal looks up again at that, this time at Selina.

She... honestly hadn't expected that from the Dark Angel.

Iselsis: Her sister speaking snaps her out of her brooding.

"Maybe, but the prince has no idea who he even invites to his table. Forgive me if I feel skeptical."

Ryshassa Krauser: Ryshassa turns to Moon first, an apologetic smile on her face. "I know very little about most of you, as well. There has been very little time to simply sit down and get to know everyone as much as I would like. What I believe, or hope anyway, is that all of you have a goal in gathering here and standing with the Prince in this war. Whether it is to protect your home or family, to exact revenge, to ensure the proper rest of the dead, to redeem yourself or find out whether you truly wish to be redeemed."

"It may be that we will end up enemies some day -- but in unity we may help each other reach our respective goals. And perhaps the journey itself may help at least some of us feel we would like to remain allies beyond the scope of the war. Perhaps not. But I would like to walk that path as long as I am able." She resumes her seat, addressing Gennadi with a small shrug -- "Some people need formalities. Others not. I believe Alexander at least wants us to see every individual with which we will be working if we ally ourselves to his cause."

"For better or for worse..."

• Gennadi dismisses Ryshy with a wave of his hand. "Not you. Him. Let the boy speak for himself, explain how this alliance works, how it's held together by more than a nightmare of the future."

Fiona: Fiona watches... hears... her eyes feeling with hopes and dreams, a smile widening as she watches...she remembers the feeling of belonging she had with the Holyswords... and with those now... she feels thrilled by it, smiling at the Prince. Especially after the Dark Angel says her piece... "Count me in, Alex."

Alexsei Krauser: He inclines his head at the Prince's words, then lifts his eyes once again to meet his. He finally rises, hands still joined in his lap as he stares at Alexander. He nods once, then his gentle voice rings into the room, breaking the silence he is enshrouded in.

"I come from lands much different than this one. I have seen many other lands since I have been in service of the Sorrowful One. Yet none of those have I ever called my home." He pauses for a moment, still as a statue. "Creation is my home, for my duties are not held by physical boundaries. But wherever the talents I possess - as humble as they might be - are needed, then there I will stand. And right now I believe I could be of assistance here, where the dead roam the land in their deep hatred for the still living. Those... I seek to put to rest."

He inclines his head once more, peering downwards as he continues. "I believe your quest to be just, and your intentions to have merit, young Prince of Whiteshield. I believe you seek to help the North and make it a better place. And for that, I understand what you are trying to accomplish here. But I know you already know my feelings on such a matter." He gazes sideways at the others for a moment, to the familiar and unfamiliar faces all assembled there.

"I cannot ask for other people to trust me, for they do not know me. I cannot ask them to even accept me as comrade and a companion, nor could I demand to be regarded as such even in passing. What I can say is that, as long as I stand here, I will help you, unconditionally and regardless of how you choose to regard me. I will join my force to yours, for like lady Aine pointed out, the threat is too great for one to face alone. Unity, in this case, seems like the best strategy."

"I ask for nothing. I demand nothing. I merely offer you my help and allegiance, for this cause we all seem to share."

Alexander: Alex's head hangs low.

This was not supposed to be like this...

His hands curled into fists at the table, but he held back. Ryshassa said a long piece about how she was a healer and had seen the war, but he did not see an answer. The only vocal person at his side was... the Dark Angel.

That was so ironic he felt like laughing.

But he could not... Gennadi challenged him. And he had to answer... if they were to have a chance...

"It will work like a Circle, Gennadi. Do your memories not tell you how they work? We will be together. We will come when others call. We will share what we know, and our resources. We will work together. Our knowledge, power, skills... we will be there for each other. But we will have our own lives. We have the Zephyr, Fiona's spells... and with some luck, more, later. We can be apart, and be together when needed."

"Our enemies are already organized, Have you not heard me?"
"All of us have learned that, alone, we were only saved by luck..."

Selina de Windia: "The nightmare is not enough for you, starchild?" Selina asks Gennadi. "There will always be dissention of a sort -- accept it. There is no magical formula, no philosopher's stone for him to reveal. There is only us."

Alexander: Alexsei pitched in as soon as he finished explaining himself.

It made his head rise a little bit.

Kanti: Kanti, standing behind the Prince, her prince, already knew much of what he was going to say, had been there as he practiced.and she was promised to him beyond that.

She still thrills at the speach, at the words, at seeing him speaking before her so regal.

She answers him then "Yes, my prince." It's only a whisper, but then, she had answered him many times before.

Gennadi: "Circles break, alliances fail, good friends come to blows over words misunderstood and misplaced caresses, nations shatter under the weight of their citizens. How do you intend to keep this family from being torn apart like so many others have this war? How will you keep deathknights as lifeknights, healers as warriors, fae loyal and sidereals honest?" He shakes his head. "If all you have for me is a dream and the hope everyone will behave, nothing truly changes at all."

Iselsis: "He could force an oath on us all."

She snickers at her own little joke at Gennadi's expense.

Valencia Silverstar: Valencia sighs at the pessimism. One would think an older one like her would be the one to voice it. But no, it comes from the young.

"What proof can he give, save our actions?" She nods to Izabella. "Many of us can be monsters, in our way. Is there then an alternative worth considering?"

Alexander: "How?"

He smiles. He smiles into Gennadi's soul.

"Simple. I trust you."

"I trust you all with my life. You have saved it already."

He smiles, and remembers his uncle. His smile becomes somewhat darker... hardened.

"And when we are a family... Gennadi. Do you know what happens when one betrays his family?"

He stands there, with Kanti behind him, and between two of the North's greatest generals in white and silver.
An answer in itself.

Seventh Moon: White Dog...

The prince still did sound like him, when he talked about that shit. Even almost looked like him with that halo glowing, like the sun framing Dog's head from on high. This was bigger than anything White Dog had ever wanted though.
Bigger, but not that different.
Not that different, but so much more dangerous.

This is just the beginning...

There was something about the way Alex said that which made Moon's spine stiffen. Something about it he didn't like at all. And now the non-to-subtle threat...

Almost everyone else there seemed for it though. Selina, Vorpal, that healer and her husband... the way Opal was making eyes at the prince, seemed pretty clear where she stood too. He took a glance at Iselsis across the table, then over at the Gennadi a foreigner and a stranger, the only other people who expressed anything resembling a doubt.

"I ain't in this ta save the world." Moon spoke up again finally. He rested his hands on the table edge, both palms upward. As he went on, the black curve of hard nails broke out of the tips of his fingers. "Never have been. World can go fuck itself for all I care. Started it ta try 'n keep what's left'a my home from gettin' stomped out. Still doin' it for that. And cause people I am tight with are."

One hand to the other, Moon drew the sharpened claws slowly across his palm, slicing open the skin neatly. He let the blood pool into his cupped hand, then slapped his palm down on the table, hard.

"Ya wanna make somethin' formal outta this, fine." He lifted his hand off the table, leaving a pattern of blood on the silvery surface that looked more like a paw-mark than a palm print. "There ya go man, my bloods in it. Long as the dead are still tryin' ta fuck with us, be more than happy ta wear ya colors. Thats far as I go though. Once it's done, I'm out."

Alexsei Krauser: "Things break. They come to a conclusion. It is the very nature of everything. And yet, people go on through. I do not see you surrender your life because one day it will be over, Gennadi. Things are meant to begin and end. Eternity and Certainty are concepts for those who are afraid of what lurks in the darkness under their beds. And I see no point in refusing an alliance merely because one day it will most likely come to its own end."

He sits, still as solemn as when he entered, a faint smile on his lips. "Everyone's decision is their own. And everyone should do as they will. I, for one, will do everything I can to stop this madness by joining my strength to those who also wish the same."

And then, he is silent once more.

Cael: Cael listens to the Prince, as he speaks about the war, about the things they have done together, against the dead and thier allies, and the ways they have saved each other.

Then he listens to the others, as they agree or as they question ... or as they remain silent.

Then he speaks "I do believe it is us getting at each others throats that he wishes to avoid, Seventh Moon." acknowlegding the man point before listening to the exchanges once more.

"And Miss Iselsis, I do believe the prince knows full well what he is inviting here with this offer. People from Windia, people from whiteshield, people from far off lands and people with none. Exalts of sun, of the moon, of the stars, of the dragons and of the void. That he can get us all in this room is something in itself."

"Anyway, Alex, I thank you for your trust in me. I will place my trust in you, in the others in this room. For however long this lasts."

May it last a good long while

Alexander: Moon was in. He smiled. Did he knew he was part of the inspiration for him? That their talk made him want to make a better world so badly? That White Dog's message got to him and gave him the confidence to try this, like in his memories?

"Thank you, Moon Thank you, Cael."

They appeared together, it was fitting they joined together.

And Moon... he would convince him, later. He would convince him.

Vorpal: The Pale Angel lets out an abrupt snort, her thoughtful mien turning into an irritated one. "Good grief", she snarls, "why are we still talking about this?"

She stands up without a warning, looming over the table like an angry snow faery about to unleash the killing blizzard at offending mortals. "Here we bicker about whether it should be called a Circle, a family or a gang while the enemy is still out there, raising new corpses to swell its ranks every passing minute. Every hour we waste is an hour the enemy gains to prepare for opening the Gates in Whiteshield. You want change?" She waves her hand sharply at Gennadi. "Then let's start changing. You want oaths?" She then turns to Iselsis. "Then let's start swearing them. Wolf-man is right. We're wasting time here."

She pauses, scowling at everyone across the table. "Cael? This is your territory. The demon-girl wants to swear an oath. You should get to work."

Ryshassa Krauser: "The rest of you may do as you wish," Ryshassa says, after sharing a glance with her husband. The others may not sense the subtlety, but she can. He is agitated. "I too will help the Prince. But there is more to it than that for me. This is not my home nor my people, but I love life. I believe all those who do not show utter heartlessness in the face of suffering deserve to live and to strive. I believe in doing what I can to combat those who wish to sow destruction indiscriminately and show no sympathy for those whose lives they crush into the dirt."

"That is why I am here. May the rest of you who hesitate to join in this, formally or not, find in yourselves a reason to do so, as well."

Iselsis: She cuts a sharp glance at Valencia. The only one at this god be damned table that might vaguely understand Ise's predicament. Then again, Valencia made no secret of who she was to everyone here. Still.

"How can you be so casual about throwing your lot in with this pact? You're a Windian. Correct me if I'm wrong but it could be tantamount to treason in some people's eyes."

"Fuck, I know at least two people here are liars. One is a self serving bastard. Two are tainted. One's a criminal and a thug. Two have things looking through their eyes that are worse than anything any of us can dole out individually. Several of us here are straight out liabilities."

• Gennadi points at Selina. He points at Iselsis. "They happen, Alex." He points at Alexsei, he points to himself, to the celestials in the room. "We happen, Alex." He waves at the sun through the window. "The Incarna happen, Alex. It is not that I won't help... it's that the same pattern that got us here has to change, and I don't know if you've got what it takes to do it yet." He grins. "Not that I've found anybody else that does, of course."

Alexander: "Yes, Iselsis. They are. But I trust them. And they can be more."

"Gennadi... it falls to you. I think I have everyone else's consent. Do you wish to be a part of this?"

"Do you wish to see a Circle taking its enemies, and punishing its traitors..."

"... or not? Trust that I will show you that I have what it takes... or not."

"There is not much else I can say, is there?"

Gennadi: "I suppose I can't really see if you've got it if I leave, now can I? I'm in, but remember today."

Alexander: "And you, Iselsis... get time to think, think Gennadi. But the invitation is open... you nearly died for us, after all."

He looked at the rings. Many of them filled, now..

Vorpal: "Good", Vorpal nods curtly at Gennadi. "That would leave you", she continues and turns her full, heavy-weighing attention on Iselsis. "Will you be swearing anything, like you suggested, or not?"

Iselsis: She narrows her eyes at Vorpal and stands. "I will not be threatened. I have my doubts and worries and I won't be intimidated into giving an answer until they're good and well allayed. If I can't even be afforded that much by this so-called 'family', then I foresee an ill fated future for this venture."

Alexander: "And since we exist, now, even if with an uncertain membership... we need a name."

"Names have power. We have them due to it. Our weapons, our armor, named, become a legend."
"If we are to become a legend... we need one."

He looks at Alexsei, a smile. "Alexsei... you are our Savant. Care to do the honors?"

Valencia Silverstar: "Those who are already guilty of treason may cast the blame, but it will not save them." Valencia says simply, remembering the obstruction the nobility had given her in gathering Windia's strength to defend itself. And the years before -- the butchery of the de Windia fief and assets, dividing it among the victors. She could do nothing then, and she knew almost nothing then. Now...she knows more. And suspects more.

"There is rot within our country, and whether it approves of me allying myself with others to save Winlandia is not my concern. I have watched it and done nothing long enough."

Cael: Cael extends a hand towards Iselsis. "As the Pale Angel says, if you wish to swear an oath, if that will make you feel better..."

"But what exactly is Valencia turning traitor to? What about this alliance is immicial to Windia's interest? What about we people gathered here spells a threat to Windia? A more stable North, a North that is free from the Bishop and not beset by our own troubles can only help Windia."

Alexander: "And Iselsis... I know. Do not think I am trying to trample you or your opinion... I just wished to know I had enough people for it to be official. I do. You... I realise you are not in. It is unfortunate... but..." He sighs. "And Gennadi is still keeping me on probation, but still. It is more than I could have asked for."

It is actually a lie. But... he had to try.

Iselsis: She grunts exasperatedly at Cael. Before turning towards the prince.

"I want you to give me a good reason for why I should go rogue. Why I should throw in my lot with you, which will cause me to become an outcast in my home, have everything I own taken away from me, including what little future I managed to build for myself? What possible incentive is there for me to recklessly throw away my future because a child prince asked me? The burden of proof is on you, because I won't recklessly plunge myself off the side of a cliff simply because I was asked to."

Alexander: "Iselsis... I am not asking you to go rogue. I am not against Windia, nor I wish to be."

"You still have your allegiances.. we do not take precedence. But we will be your help, and when you have time, you will be ours'."

Selina de Windia: "Have you been reading the history of the blind?" Selina asks her sister in exasperation. "Windia. Cannot. Stand. Alone."

Vorpal: "Yes", Vorpal adds in with an edged tone of voice. "Whether you like it or not, Winlandia and Whiteshield are one and the same here. Their fates are connected. If we don't liberate Whiteshield soon, Winlandia will share its fate and worse. By delaying this session you're delaying the defense of Winlandia."

In other words, thanks to your silly sense of justice, you are already a traitor to your country, she wants to add, but wisely holds her tongue.

Ryshassa Krauser: "Iselsis," Ryshassa points out, not without a note of sadness, "You really do not have to agree. You can walk away from this alliance instead, if you wish. I do not know your true purpose. You might be better served walking that purpose alone."

She did not much like the manner Gennadi "joined" either. Betrayal -- he believed betrayal was written into their very Essence. But she never expected that man to agree completely to a cause when he seemed more inclined to come and go as he pleased.

"I think I would still help you anyway, if you were hurt. That is my way. But follow your heart."

Iselsis: And that's the point at which the demon girl becomes angry.

"I'll still have my allegiances? Thanks for proving my point that you have no idea who you call to this table! You want to know why it's either or, and not both? Fine. I'll throw my lot in with you but only because I've seen the horror that is coming, even if it's but a fraction, and I see no other way to stop it from this. I hope ruining my life will make you happy, dear prince of Whiteshield."

She takes a deep breath and then raises her voice a bit, so everyone can hear clearly.

"Everyone, I have an announcement to make. Iselsis, as you all probably guessed, is not my real name. My real name is Izabella de Windia."

She lets it hang for barely a second, then point at Selina.

"Her sister."

Then she continues: "When our parents were killed I had an unfortunate accident a few years later that turned me into the half-demon you see today. I was put away somewhere until the country could ascertain my usefulness, and when I exalted they did. And I was trained in these."

She grabs her plasma repeaters, holds them up as illustration, then puts them on the table in front of her.

"I was trained to be a secret operative of the Windian state. I was sent here after I delivered the news of an incursion of the dead into Bluewind, intent on destroying our capital city. It was my reconaissance that alerted the officials, and got Valencia and others there in time. In Blue Wind I fought and thought I killed the Acolyte of Violet Whispers."

"I thought that would be the end of it all for me, but my superiors were... impressed, so I was given the mission to come here. And ascertain wether and how badly any of you were corrupted by these two."

She points at Vorpal and Selina simultaneously.

"I was ordered to deal with any threat to my country. Yes, that means kill them, and you too, if I were to think you had been corrupted. And that's why I'm here, not for the war, not to help, but to observe you lot and potentially kill you in your sleep if I ascertained you were a liability."

"Now you know who you ask to sit at your table, prince."

"Oh and there's the small matter of Adorjan waiting for the right time to burst out through my soul into this world and start destroying everything, but that's a whole 'nother matter entirely.", she snorts, and sits down heavily into her chair, having just made herself an outcast, a traitor to her country.

Valencia Silverstar: Valencia sighs heavily. Well, it wasn't very diplomatic, but it let them know who and what she was.

Selina de Windia: "Our country, sis, is broken," Selina says dryly. "and it needs an overhaul."

Iselsis: "That doesn't make me any less of a traitor as things stand."

Alexander: Now, that was.... a surprise...

"I... see..." The Prince says, a little shocked. Hoping someone will help him make this go on...

Iselsis: She cuts a glance to the prince. "And the answer is yes, I would've done it too, if you lot really had been a threat."

Ryshassa Krauser: Ryshassa is more or less as speechless as Alexander, though the fact Iselsis.... Izabella and the Dark Angel were sisters did explain the familiarity between them.

Even though they don't look very alike.

So Iselsis would have killed any one of them if doing so would have been in line with her orders? Loyalty to the highest degree. Loyalty so absolute she would slay her own sister for it. Ryshassa finds herself wondering what she might have done in that case. Likely try to stop the combat and heal all those involved, but...

...that was easier said than done.

Exceedingly Sublime Opal: She finally speaks up, after her long silence, "I am not of you. I was not Chosen by blood or deed or pact. But, nor am I blind to the circumstances of our situation, nor the bonds we have formed through our mutial cooperation. Many serpents gnaw at the roots of Creation. Many who, with malice in their heart reach with lustful hands to strike down Creation."

"I am not Chosen, but I do so choose to help in this. And though my efforts may fall and my works be broken, at least my hands shall be leant in aide to a goal of worth with people I care about, rather than standing alone waiting for the edge of an inevitable oblivian to wash over me because my preducases or fears stood in the way of better judgement."

She looked toward Prince Alexander, the Prince Resplendant in the Golden Hues of Dreams Reborn, "I am yours."

Vorpal: Even as the demon-blooded girl speaks, Vorpal slowly folds her arms over her chest once again, straightening her back and staring at Iselsis with a cold, even stare. "We'll need to talk", she says after length, her voice unreadable. "You and I, alone. After this."

"But not now. We have other things to attend to. Wonderful to have you aboard. Be careful." She turns and raises her voice lightly. "Do we have a report, Dorian?"

Alexsei Krauser: He lowers his gaze as he listens to Iselsis' words, keeping his face straight while emotions well up inside him. His eyes widen slightly, however, at the revelations Iselsis speaks of. They... are... sisters? His mind races to grab the concept, eyes focusing on each of them in turn, the differences bleeding from his sight for a moment, until some connctions are made - connections he should probably have foreseen, but, as he often say, looks can be deceiving. It... makes sense... Now it makes sense.

He keeps his thoughts much to himself, however, even when Iselsis mentions her role in the affair. He Chooses not to overstep his boundaries - there were those better suited to know about the Windian rule, about the potential danger they all represented...

He leans his head foreward, no words escaping his lips. Names have power indeed. In the end, when we fade from this world, names and legends will be all that remain, echo of what we once were and of the things we once saw.

He raises his head slightly so his eyes meet the Prince's, and then to everyone's across the room. "You put much faith in my ability, Prince Alexander. I suppose it is what you are trying to prove today. The power of a name..." He lowers his head for a moment, wondering just what appellation would befit such a group. He thinks for a long moment, head lowered, crossing his hands in front of his face, untile he finally speaks again, still gazing down.

"There exists a moment, at the very ending of the day, where all of the celestial bodies are visible, for the one who wishes to see. The Sun fading, still standing Unconquered by the Horizon. The Moon, high atop the sky, shining through the slowly darkening skies. The stars, already starting to light up like shards of diamond, here and there... And in that moment, the skies color in a collection of different shades. Lights and darks, Brights and Sombers... Everything seems to be united under the same heavens, sharing the same canvas, bringing their own acents to the picture, strenghtening them in their differences..."

He stops a moment, and he leans forward, pondering his next choice of words before he utters them.

"And so do we stand on this day, like Myriad Shades of Eventide."

Alexander: He is still taking in all Iselsis said. Selina's sister. An Yozi inside her soul.

And... the Windians want to kill them. That...

He would have to think on it. Thankfully, Vorpal and Alexsei had just given him the save...
"Myriad Shades of Eventide?"
"Alright then! It's official!" He says... and waits for Dorian's report.

Trying hard to pay attention to it and not to everything roiling on his mind about Gennadi and Iselsis...

Dorian: "Oh yeah." The man said as he got up.
"Thought you would never finish. All that talk about getting down to bussiness... well."
"There is... quite a bit."

Ahem

The man said as he cleared his throat. Nothing short of beautiful, the blonde man of purple eyes let lighting crackle down his self... and his cloth, a suit made of storms. Of eternally chaotic skies of the darkest clouds, from whence the lighting comes. Some could recognize it as a creative cosmetic effect of empowering the element of air on a suit, however his anima interacted with it in unexpected ways, whirlpools of lighting and fire appearing in clouds that curled like dragons... if he flew into the storm, those parts would simply blend in, forming quite an effect.

He let the lighting traverse down the rings of the table, striking the adamant ring... and passing his report to it. Words appeared on the center of the table, hovering in the air, for all to read his report. The details were there, so many of them, but he went on to explain them in broad strokes as he walked accross the room.

They were mostly amateurs, after all, he thought. They had to hear the facts gathered by the Windian military intelligence on the wake of the battle. He smiled, inwardly shaking his head at his father, who nearly forbid him being in this gathering of gods, before beggining to speak, every word laced with his confidence and nearly condescending tone.

“Well, as you know, we could capture a few ghosts from the battle, who are in well-warded cells around Spire. We have subjected them to heavy questioning. Of the individuals both them and Cloud in Dawn pointed out as figureheads, both Blight Lily and Brael Ir are unnacounted for; We can only suspect they got spirited away by one of their allies during the fight with the General. It is sadly not too hard, being that the pillars of lights of more than seven anima banners blinded any sense of peripheral perception for most of us.”

“Pehaps they need more encouraging; We will keep trying to milk whatever we can from them. Some of them claim to be from the deceased Parishioner’s information network - the dead must be as blind as we are now, and they have given us some possible whereabouts of some of the Deathknights. One in particular, the Prophet, seems to travel quite a bit.”

He cleared his throat once again, lit a cigarette with his lighting, and continued.

“We have been in contact with the Boil, and in fact Eva and much of our force has gone there. We have heard Iria and the Angels here hatched a plan to put an ‘Iron Army’ in motion after the Boil’s own decimations, but we need materials from the Guild, and the resources; But I am told both will be taken care of by you. I do hope you are right.” He says with just enough faith in them, before continuing. “There is also the matter of a... prision. It seems to be on the outskirts of the Boil.On Mount Rubro, on the Crimson Needle Peak. We have, however, sent a detachment there only to have them disappear. It is a Wyld region. We have no idea how they can be safe in it, but we are not if they have those able to shape it to its whims - as it stands, we are to accept our people are lost, insane, or warped beyond repair. But if we have a way to get into this prision and free its prisioners, it would be a great help.”

“Our forces are divided now - it will take us a little while to get the rest of our forces and supplies here, as well. Our gratitude goes with the Windwraith - what would be a matter of months became something we will have done in little more than a week, thanks to his great management plan. Windia needs bureaucrats like this man. “ He nods in deference, no trace of sarcasm or overconfidence. “We will also need to wait until the Bull is in position and coordinate our strikes, so for the time being, we are on hold. The dead themselves are reorganizing, and we can look foward to two to three weeks of hard work, but not battles, ahead of us. The enemy seems to have receeded, if the intelligence we have on that ritual made in the coldest month, we know they will be on the defensive. That gives us a reprieve, but to prepare to storm their walls. Make of that what you will.”

“And finally, there have been some strange reports over the White Sea. Hanslanti is worried - and they are holding everything back. No help until they make damn sure we are not aiding a known criminal of them. You know who." He smiles to Cael and shrugs, "Add to the fact we are standing over a mystery in and of itself, and that is pretty much it. There are more details, but you can see them in the report itself."

He finally sits down, and sighs, "Good luck; you are in for quite a read."

Elsewhere...

---

Cascavel Mountain, only a scant few miles away from the Boil.
It is known by its population that there aren’t any ores they could use or mine out of it.
Mostly because anyone who got too deep into its caves was never seen again.
Those caves do not exist anymore, their evil sealed off by Kodak long ago.

A seal that held until today.

Today, under rainy skies, the mountain shrugged, and like lighting racing down the skies, a crack ran down its surface. It trembled, its vegetation withering as black fingers appeared to grow from the ground. Like an obscene tree, he grows... fingers, then an arm, then a face... rain falling over him, the cold winds whipping his flesh, and it felt like heaven.

After endless days of dark suffering...
Of walking in hell, constantly fighting demons...
Body and soul rent together by their claws...
Until he was not sure if he had ceased to be what he is, and became one of them...
But that was past. He had been to hell, and back.

Reborn from the Earth tha empowered him, he howls.

Obsidian has returned.

---

Metal feet clang against the floor as he walks, his blade screeching fate in his passage.

A tall, powerful figure clad fully in metal armor, surrounded by an aura of command and shadows. He walks, and others follow, the souls in his soulsteel not suffering, but calm in prayer and meditation. And he... was calm, calm in his faith, calm in his wisdom. A warrior with the pure heart of a crusader. A Crusader Wielding his Regret.

Walking through the corridors of a flying murder factory big as a tower, he meets one his equals.

A Prophet. The Prophet of the Ashen Book.

“The General is dead.” The Crusader says, his voice heavy and mournful.
“This is a great setback for us. He was one of our best. Certainly our strongest in that field.”

A Prophet who holds an impossibly beautiful faerie of shadows in his hand, a princess of light and warmth turned into a beauty of ice and shadow. “Yes, yes. I heard. They cheated quite a bit, and got the upper hand. They are good... pehaps the best. Why do I sense the hand of the Lover in this? Why indeed?” The Prophet grins a lunatic’s grin, sipping from the wine offered by Jyoti, princess of shades. “But that is of no consequence is it, my dear crusader? What is, is this - that they have gone too far already. We are to capture the Angel and the Windwraith, but we don’t need cushioned gloves for it. It is time to strike at them, my friend. Where it hurts. And to make them beg for our mercy before void takes them.”

“I am not your friend, Prophet. And your conspiracies do not interest me. This fight is a nessessity... but we do not need to lower ourselves to the Lover’s level to fight it, much as you believe so. We are fighting for the right. Do not forget that in your schemes.” He says, as he continues his walk...

The Prophet smiles, holding Jyoti close. The beautiful, onyx visage of Omble, the Shadow Angel, walks through the room to him. He sips more of the wine, and watches the Crusader leave... “Tell me again, how come one who walks in the front line of war, who murders thousands, can feel so pure, while us poor diplomats are saddled with the burden of all evils?” The Prophet asks.

“Blood washes away sin.”
Is the answer given by the Crusader.

---

The Crusader walks to the edge of podium, watching the legions beneath him.

He speaks. His words laced with the solemn terror of the Void, the somber truth of the Bishop’s scriptures. He speaks of truth, of power, of equality, and heaven, he speaks of glory. He speaks of mission. And as he finishes, he lifts his blade, Sorrowful Dreamer’s Demise.

And the insane Sidereal’s soul cries from within it, their standard of war, shining in the Shadowland Moonlight. And of all those in front of him, three move foward. The first one of them is a ghost, a bald Immaculate Monk in black, a shadow of a scar on his face, and eyes of a maniac. Soulsteel shines in his forearms, on his hands... on the hands of the former Abyssal he was, the Hierophant Clad in the Skin of Deceivers. He steps foward, flanked by two Nephwracks, and nods. “The Shining Arbiters stand with you, Crusader.”

To his left side, stood a great scorpion of moonsilver, the war-body of a great Nemessary, the Silver Rock, the Scorpion-King. He stood foward, flanked by two dark gods in vaguely arachnoid shapes. “So do the Scorpions in Lie’s Shadow, Crusader.”

And to right side, a former God of War, his spear wreathed in prayer strips and ever-dripping blood. Behind him lay nemessaries, all soldiers, but clad only in jewels and veils. “And the Order of the Crimson Spear. Lead us, Crusader. To War. To heaven!”

---

The Prophet smiled, watching his group... the Supplicant of the Violet Altar entering the room, masked and clad in a full cloak as he was always. “Hey there, new guy.” The Prophet said, patting Jyoti in the back. “’ti, my dear, give the new guy a glass.” As she goes, he sips his own... “And don’t feel bad over being the new guy, man. It is not always we have defectors such as you, but there is my pet Lunars... and soon enough, the replacement for the Hierophant will arrive. I am told they are patching him through a regimen of intensive training... no worry about someone being crazy as long as he does the job, eh?”

“And the job, is throwing the bitches who killed my love into the Void, Prophet!” Blight Lily said as she walked into the room, rage on her face. “I had to hide into the ground, thanks to my stone, knowing that up on the ground he was being killed by them... I could only save Brael here.” She points at the large, grieving man behind her. “You will make killing them a priority, right?”

The Prophet handled her a bottle... full of something ashen... and screaming.

“Oh yes. But remember, no killing the Windwraith or the Dark Angel. Just suffering. And here... this is Seyirine, the Ashen Snake. A Hekatonkire hurt by a dragon of Void in Windia, my dear. She lost much of her body and power... but I hope you two will get along very well.”

---

The three Nephwracks watch.

The Dead Hand’s Chaplains.

They hold a loom, and with it weave a soul. Weave the soul of their equal, the Dead Hand’s commander, back into its fleshly vessel. It had been hurt by Ainerach’s touch, in Windia... and seen firsthand he could not hold back. The armor it used, the body it used, fully discarded... and his great body taken back from the Tabernacle. A work of art, of aesthetic, mystic and mechanic beauty. And that is where his soul is wove. The Nephwracks finish, watching the body in the buddle of ghostly strands in front of them begin to move... breaking out...

And stepping out. His skin smooth and clear as ivory. Hair that falls down his back much the same, eyes the color of Pyre Flame. Bare face and body beautiful like one of the Fair Ones, turquoise dragons serpenting around his arms, legs and torso the only reminder the body is not artificial, as it seems to breathe, to live. Alabaster watches the Chaplains, and bows respetfully.

“I have returned, my chaplains. And no longer will I underestimate the Exalted anymore. Assemble the Dead Hand. It is time we finish the work with the Pale Angel.. and destroy the one responsible for the demise of our Saint!”

---

The Mother Superior has lips like ruby, eyes like blood, hair like fire.

The Mother Superior is the Vestal of the Livid Lamasery.

Clad in the dark robes of a nun, she walks on the expanse of the Shadowland, surrounded by fallen First Age grandeur... and by a pattern. A pattern that extended from her, a pattern of scars on the buildings and streets and the very fate of that place.

Her anima flared to life, and the scars became like embers, burning coal. And she laughed.

'“Soon.” She called in her laugh, her anima reaching to the sky.
'“Soon, Miriana. Soon, my Kanti!”

Maera watched from afar, her claws sharpening, whispering... “And when that happens, Kanti, you die screaming...”

---

In the shadow of the Palace of Timeless Winters, Miani walked. She had been one of those lucky few who survived the General’s first attack on Spire... its revolution... the culling... and the rise of the beasts when the city went mad. She had grief enough for a lifetime... but now her life was back on track. The heroes came, and their light vanished the night pallor that had set over Spire...

The Windian relief efforts kept them fed, parts of the city now had all those wondrous resources... she was on a plaza with its own warming and miracle light! She walked the streets, holding the food she got at the relief effort’s tent, humming to herself, happy.

She did not even see the creature that turned her into a crimson smear on the wall.

The light of the heroes generated its own shadows.
And not all was right in Spire.

---

And coming up next in A Dance of Angels!

Great Jinx in Great Forks!
Who is Elizabeth Holysword?
The terrible secret of Spire!
Will the black feathers bring enlightement?
Alabaster angel!
Monster Hunters!
Vengeanceful Skies!
The Demons in Red!
Silent Windmills!
Battle for Souls in the Edge of Reality!
Those that are broken!
Enter The Crusaders!
And much more! Stay tuned for more A Dance of Angels in 30!

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