BeforeDinnerInTheStarChamberIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Before Dinner In The Star Chamber Before Dinner in the Star ChamberBefore Dinner in the Star Chamber Clytemnestra Helena Amba Before Dinner in the Star Chamber Ingrey Damien Tear Before Dinner in the Star Chamber Meetings Before Dinner in the Star Chamber Ingrey Chadwick Before Dinner in the Star Chamber Ingrey Damien Before Dinner in the Star Chamber Islain Damien Vikund Before Dinner in the Star Chamber Delluth Paloma Before Dinner in the Star Chamber Petra Chadwick had managed to find a spot on the wall to occupy and watch the world go round. His mother leaving the room gave him hope that the rest of the conversation wouldn't revolve around what he did or didn't do on board the Queen that day, and he dare not approach Islain to find out what his mother had spoke of regarding it. It was the custom of the Royal Family of Amber, when dining formally, to gather beforehand in the Star Chamber - a name of faintly sinister import. In Oberon's day it had served as a court where somewhat savage verdicts were handed out. Mandor had, with Flora's assistance, turned it into a rather pleasant gathering area. The stars of Amber (which had given the room its original name) remained in place on the beautifully decorated ceiling. Many Chaosians, after all, found the night sky fascinating. And not a few found it rather disconcerting. Tonight, dinner was announced for eight. Flora had instructed the kitchens to serve it at 8.30 and had bidden the family gather at 7.30. An extensive drinks table had been set out; Merlin would have complained vociferously had it been any other way. There were small canapes to nibble; some popular in Amber, some decidedly Chaosian in flavour ... and some unique to such gatherings. The highly prized squelch eel was traditional, for example, on such occasions - although as far as anyone knew, they had been prepared solely for Gerard, who had had something of a partiality for them. Even now, no-one had countermanded the order that they should be served at Receptions. And so the Family began to gather. Chadwick had arrived just a little before 7:30. He'd tried his best, but came across looking more like an usher than a member of the royal family. He smiled to Islain and tried not to frown at the tardiness of Damien. The fact that looking at Damien reminded him of Johann and that horrible mess, the man in the dungeons waiting for his demise, didn't help matters. Morgan wandered in just after Chadwick, a glass of sparkling wine already in his hand. He had bathed just before arriving, and his hair was still wet. He wore a pair of tight black trousers with a scarlet stripe running up the legs, tucked into high black leather boots, and a black silk shirt with ruffled sleeves, worn open at the neck. Over the shirt he wore a long, unbuttoned red waistcoat, its pattern of interlocking knotwork so subtle that it was only visible in certain light. The light of the candles reflected off the polished jet buttons of the waistcoat. He was followed, a few minutes later, by Flora, who wore layers of a gossamer material in green that barely concealed the sheath dress of irridescent peacock green that displayed her figure to perfection. Her hair was swept up and fastened behind in a knot of atful beauty that allowed a few strands to escape and draw attention to the lovely line of her neck. She looked first for Chadwick; a faint frown - and then a nod. Then she saw Morgan, and one eyebrow arched felicately, as if to acknowledge, with some quizzical surprise, the effort he had made. Her frown almost crushed her son, who had that vague feeling of guilt that meant he'd probably done something wrong, but even he wasn't exactly sure what. Morgan gave her a conspiratorial wink, openly admired her figure, then made an elaborate show of noticing that his wine glass was empty and heading to the bar to fill it once more. At 7:35 exactly, a statuesque, elegant woman with eyes the wintry green of gemstones and a cool, confident expression on her perfectly chiseled face swept into the room. She wore a long, low-cut gown of black velvet which clung to her curves, belted with a low girdle of golden flowers. The gown had a train and long sweeping sleeves, lined in red silk. Her dark hair was pulled up into a braided coronet, adorned with jewels, and she glittered with gold and rubies. This was Islain, daughter of Eric and Moire, and at this moment she looked every inch a queen, and exuded the presence and majesty of one. As she entered, Islain smiled and nodded gracefully to Chadwick, and then to Morgan. Morgan also merited a conspiratorial wink and a raise of one delicate finger to her red red lips. A few minutes later, the Embassy of the Courts to Chaos to Amber brought forth its Ambassadress and her right hand. Paloma Baccaran was dressed in a cool formal style, dressed in a purple gown with gold accents, highlighting her role as the official envoy of the Emperor present. A gold chain was her primary piece of jewelry against that purple gown, with an oval charm of a dark blue stone, surrounded by small, bone white pearls. Her blond hair was pulled back. Her companion, Ingrey, was dressed in a white tuxedo, with a purple tie, and dark purple pants. His black hair almost glistened in its mild tangle, which on closer inspection was a subtly patterned sort of style rather than being a mess. He was clean shaven, and his blue eyes took everything in from his spot next to Paloma. Neither appeared armed...visibly, anyway. Once inside of the star chamber for a minute or two, at an unspoken signal, Ingrey detached himself from Paloma and began to circulate on his own. Islain nodded politely at the arrival of the unfamiliar ambassadoral party. She had retrieved a glass of red wine from the drinks table, and was sipping it occasionally, as she made the rounds and pretended to be unsurprised at the lack of commotion her presence was causing. Despite his best efforts, Delluth's hired carriage had not gotten him to the Castle on time; he paused in the Star Chamber's entrance at about 7:45. He wore his formal outfit, a very dark purple coat and knee breeches, the coat trimmed in gold, with a cream-colored shirt and stockings, all partly covered by an abbreviated academic's robe in black and dark purple. A cloth cap in dark purple had been left with a servant. As usual he was accompanied by his tall and impossibly elegant dog, who looked around and immediately headed toward Florimel and her customary admiration of him (and generosity with food). Smiling a bit ruefully, Delluth followed Zhenechka to greet the Castle's hostess, and so did not immediately notice Islain's presence. It was likely that Islain did immediately notice Delluth, but for whatever reason, she left him to his introductions for the moment. It was perhaps 7:50 pm when Damien glided into the star chamber. Damien had arrived at the castle with a cocked hat bearing a single white plume, but it had disappeared as soon as he was indoors. He wore a black velvet button-down double breasted coat with a high collar, six buttons bearing the design of a winged snake, and tails (but without facings) over a white ruffed silk shirt, cravat, and black trousers. The jacket and trousers were accented with metallic embroidery and piping, which matched the watered steel of his rings, earrings, buttons, eyes, and smallsword hilt. The blade was held within a black scabbard and suspended from a white swordbelt. His hair, (or perhaps black wig), fell in waves and curls below his collar. Damien nodded and smiled to those already assembled, exchanging token pleasantries as he made his way to the bar where he accepted a dry martini, then looked around the room to take in this growing family gathering. After spotting Islain, Damien slid across the smooth floor in her direction. "Good evening cousin. It's been far too long. Are you planning on wintering in Amber this year?" he asked with only partially concealed curiousity. Islain's face broke into a delighted smile and she bent forward to kiss his cheek, somehow leaving no lipstick behind. "Damien," she purred. "You look as magnificent as ever. Yes, I have come home, and I am very glad I have." She let herself sigh a little, contentedly, which made it seem likely she was taped into the dress. Looking around she added, "This is somewhat different. But perhaps only Flora and Bleys now remember what this room used to be for. And you, of course, dear boy." Damien made sure to notice her sigh, if only to be polite. "Oh, my memory is still as good as always," he said as he took a sip of his martini and glanced at her drink as she brought it past her neckline. "It is early for mimosas, but the dry sparkling white they've been importing from Variath has been quite good these past few years. I'm not sure we've had a chance to speak, since before then..." Having obviously not gotten Flora's memo, at 8:00 on the dot, Petra prowled in looking like the cat that just ate the canary and was now eyeing the goldfish. She was wearing an ombré gown of violet, cream and teal with flutter hem and a surplice sweetheart neckline that displayed her shoulders and her Etruscan Singer's Tear to perfection. The colors of the gown matched the jeweled dragonflies that held her hair up, emphasising the elegant curve of her neck. She was carrying a glass of dark Atlantean Firewine swirling with strands of color, recognizable by any in the room that had visited the Queen. It was the Strong Stuff. Petra felt him before she saw him - a prickle across the back of her neck that told her Mandor had entered the room. Ingrey swirled around the room in a manner and method that seemed practiced, and natural, a glass of wine in his hand. His eyes briefly showed unguarded interest when he gave a glance to Islain, but he merely gave a nod to her as Damien engaged her in conversation. Too, he gave a nod to Doctor Delluth as he headed toward Florimel. Finally, Ingrey decided, he would make the boy feel a little more comfortable. "Chadwick." he said as he turned his footsteps, and announced his intentions to speak to Florimel's son as he approached in a casual walk. "Good evening to you." Morgan, leaning against a wall holding a glass in one hand and a bottle in the other, caught Chadwick's glance and smiled at him. He lifted the glass in a salute, then made a vaguely obscene gesture with the bottle. Had it been more obscene and less vague, Chadwick might have understood it. As was, he was forced to raise an eyebrow in response and remember that he absolutely had to delve into the esoterica that the castle's library had on certain subjects. He turned his attention back to Ingrey. Ingrey didn't respond to Morgan's gesture in any manner. Instead, he continued to focus his attention on Chadwick, taking a sip of wine. Morgan, when he turned, saw that the hawkish-looking Kahfan ambassador was regarding him with sardonic amusement. When he saw he had caught Morgan's eye, he half-lifted his goblet in salute. His nails were enamelled in grey, red and black striped patterns - a suggestion that this Lord would fight any insult. Morgan smiled at him and gave a slight nod of his head. He didn't bother moving off the wall, however. Clytemnestra and Helena walked into the room side by side, Helena matching her sister's stride. Ness wore a simple dress of rich red, strapped over her right shoulder and leaving her left shoulder bare. The dress pulled tightly across her body and gathered at her left hip, leading the eye from her strapped shoulder, over her curves, and down to the generous slit on her left leg. Helena's dress was identical in style to her sister's, only strapped on the opposite shoulder and colored in dark silver. They paused and scanned the room, Clytemnestra looking from center to the right and Helena looking from center to the left. "Should we find Mandor so I can apologize for us being late?" Helena murmured. At this point a deep, low gong sounded - drawing their attention to the door. |
