|
|
|
|
Corinian funerals, by tradition, burn their dead King on a raft out on the water. Afterwards, the mourners don masques and
spend the night in celebration. Drinking, feasting, telling tales of their King, and dances around the fires. During her father's funeral, An'Thaya... for a few moments, finds peace and freedom in the dance.
Well away from anyone he knew in the mass crowd of celebrants, Callan Blackthorn moved from one group of people to another. Only once, maybe twice did he run into anyone he thought he knew, and those were the odd persons giving off the Pull...what remained of his House Guard that had not been sent back to the Diirlathe were in attendance, a show of respect for a King they had not known. A frosted glass bottle of some nameless drink was in one hand as he thumped another Man heartily on the back and turned to leave, almost lost his balance...surely the ground was at a slant here? No? Maybe he'd just had too much to drink? Regardless, he found his bearings and wandered through the crowd. The bottle was turned up, drained, thrown against a wall with a explosion of red and a crystalline sound of broken glass.
With topaz eyes a muddy shade of blue and grey from both drink and smoke, Callan faced the dancing crowd, then slipped among them, the predator among the ignorant herd. No one here knew him, nor did they want to, yet he was the one who'd caused the destruction in the Temple, it was he who had tried to slaughter their Princess' children and would have brought their lives to a slow, agonized end...had he not been stopped, and had Agaru not been brought back. That thought brought a dull stab of throbbing pain to his soul, the bond to her had been faint since her return, surely because of her exhaustion. His fingers caught at the waist of a slight woman and spun her to face him, then crushed her to him and whirled away with her. He was tired of being alone, tired of fighting to be honorable and tired of fighting the hate. For one moment, just one, he wanted to feel...to feel another warm body against his and not worry about who she was, what her name was, or if he'd have to kill her in the morning.
A slight tremor of alarm slid up An’Thaya’s spine as she was passed from a blonde human she suspected was Tobin, to a dark haired partner with the grip and grace of a grizzly bear. Senses hazed by too much drink she grabbed at him for a moment, small hands smearing the paint on his heavily muscled chest, then subsided, actually laughing aloud as the wild pace of the dance made her head spin. Closing her eyes the Amazon let her head fall back and let the half-Elven male whirl her about… for the moment, absolutely free.
Half-remembered dreams seemed to haunt Callan as he spun this woman in the dance, but laughter of his own finally welled up and overrode the heavy sense of being alone. He'd had only had one glimpse of her face, bruised and cut but healing like so many other people of Corin, her eyes shadowed and so dark a color in the shadows it was impossible to discern their color. In time, the dance came to an end on its own, a natural progression of time, and Callan released her with a wild spin and bowed low to the lady he'd danced with...and nearly teetered forward on his face, a not so pleasant reminder of his recent release from the statuary that had graced the fountain before the Temple.
"M'lady, I thank you, for many things" His slurred words were thick with his native accent as he rose and nodded, a crooked, drunken grin on his face. It had been such a long time since he'd held anyone for the joy of being a , including his own mate, then vanished into the sea of masked faces and white. It was time to go home, there was little left for him to do here, and home was where he'd been away from for far too long. All he wanted now was to sleep in his own bed, bathe in his own pool...and tomorrow? Spend a great deal of time getting over his inevitable, incapacitating hang-over...then spend a great deal of time in the Pit.
An’Thaya came to a dizzying halt and made some attempt at curtseying in response to her dance partner, nearly falling over sideways in the process. She couldn’t help the smile, or the blush. Somehow, being behind a mask returned her to a simpler time laced with innocence and simple joys. Though… there had been a moment, pressed up against the strange male, when she had felt anything but innocent. A physical burn of the blood that left her feeling unsettled and more than a little guilty.
She fled into the crowd, never seeing him leave as she shoved through the press of people. The sight of a blonde elf with a redhead in his arms brought the Amazon to a halt, and she watched for a moment, eyes shadowed behind the anonymity of the mask. Was that how she and Galain looked together? … once looked together? Or perhaps never had.
Turning away she melted back into the throng of dancers, her emotions a confusing whirl of conflictions that rendered her blind for a moment. Crashing into someone’s arms she muttered an apology, tilting her head back to find familiar blue eyes looking down. With a relieved gasp Tay laid her head against Adarin’s painted chest and closed her eyes. Here… for the moment, was some sense of reality.
He'd slipped out of the shadows, intent on returning home and hadn't expected the woman in his arms. Adarin spat out a curse and then froze as he looked down into emerald eyes he would love forever.
"Hello... Tay," he said quietly. "Might we dance?" he asked, a smile curving his lips. He led her away then, gently counterbeating the drums.
|
|
|
