[size=18]"Music is a moral law.
It gives soul to the universe,
wings to the mind,
flight to the imagination,
and charm and gaiety
to life and to everything."
- Plato [/size]
The flame undulated, then paused. Only to flare again before it twisted in a silent dance. Luminescent pale emerald eyes watched from a short distance away while her thoughts drifted aimlessly for the moment. Around her, there was an array of finery. From the opulent furnishings and the gilded guests that graced the party she was attending. The low drone of conversation teased her senses. The lilting tones of her mother's language was different from what she was used to, but it was still soothing. Songs from her childhood were recalled before she turned to smile at her cousin. Sorcha did not look to be at all happy. Her expression was a stoic mask that resembled cold marble.
Sorcha wore a lovely gown of deep plum with dark Elven spun lace the only decorative element. Unlike most in attendance both were wearing a slimmer skirt. Following the Mercivian styling of a simpler, classic fashion. Cieara knew that, like her mother, Sorcha was also well armed as was she for it simply was their way.
Muttering the other woman shot a look around that to the unobservant, would seem serene enough, but for Cieara she felt the barely contained irritation the other couldn't completely hide. ?Tis a waste of my time.? Sorcha muttered almost inaudible.
?Ye did nae need to accompany me to this event, Sorcha. I did say that to ye earlier. I am quite capable of taking care of myself generally. ? Cieara's tone was light, lacking censor, just a reminder of an earlier conversation. ?I nae understand why Bronwyn insisted I attend. Something about a certain musician she wanted me to hear. I promise ye cousin, the moment the music is over we shall depart.?
If anything this seemed to create further agitation within Sorcha. It was but a second of temper flared in her eyes but was quickly banked, which was followed with a short nod.
?One day, I shall ask ye why ye are so tense over such things. Nae tonight of course.? Again that soft, nonthreatening tenor used as Cieara turned and moved towards an open door. The mint green silk rustled softly with her movements. ?For now, let us find a place to sit and get some air. Tis my understanding we are to mingle for a time before the main event starts. I am nae in the mood for too much socializing.?
The air was cool and soothing against her skin after the more stuffy interior. There was that faint scent of rain in the air. Cieara could feel the energy building, there was a storm creeping their way and she felt sure that if not for the sound of laughter and conversation spilling from the Manor house doors, the low growl of thunder would be heard. That slow rumbling wave steadily coming closer.
It was apparent that Sorcha was already starting to relax. Perhaps it was the crowds that bothered the woman, Cieara thought to herself. Taking a seat upon a stone bench under an array of hanging candles she looked over at her companion. From the way her cousin was peering upwards she didn't need to ask if Sorcha felt that curling power that was still unreleased.
?So tell me Sorcha, what is this musical recital about? I was told it was based upon old legends but I an nae familiar with the tales of this land but for the few shared by my Mum.? Plucking a small golden flower from a nearby arrangement. The delicate bloom twirled gently in her fingers.
If anything Sorcha's expression darkened even further at the question but when she replied, none of what she may be feeling could be detected in her tone. ?Tis an array of poetry set to tunes based off the bard tales of old Zymire. Often one might call them fables, for they border on the fantastical. Best suited to children or fools. ?
?Tis stories of the old gods and the Palace of Mist. Of romance, jealousy, betrayal. Stories born of victory and defeat and of the many residents that reside there to this day. It is the history of life but on a grander scale.? Words offered with dramatic flair as an older elf emerged from the darker edges of the elegant gardens. His accent was slightly different then most Cieara had met. Not quite Zymirian, but she was unable to determine where he may be from. His manner of dress hinted that he was a comfortable member of the selected guests, but most of those around tended to be more sedate then he by far.
?Ah, I see and ye are?? Her auburn head inclined politely, but she was mildly surprised that he had managed to sneak up on them both like that. Such a talent did not go unnoticed by either of them for the frown upon Sorcha's fine visage was apparent.
A flourish of a bow then followed along with a charming smile. ?I am Talyesan, Bardic Lord of our lovely regent.? He dipped his graying head low in a respectful fashion. ?Forgive my intrusion, but your companion seemed determined to color ye view of tonight's performance in a less then glowing way. This is part of our heritage. Our stories teach us all about where we come from. Tis hardly fare for ?children? or ?Fools? only.?[/size]