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It was a good moment...was being the key word. But not it was turning into not so happy a moment. Giving a groan of perhaps annoyance she sat up and then eased herself off of Malik. "I have to go throw up all that I just ate now..." As her stomach started doing flips and twists...hm, morning sickness would replace potion induced nausea wouldn't it? And she had been throwing up for quite a few mornings now hadn't she? Though this time there would be something to in fact loose. But that was all she said before leaving him there, sitting in the arena, heading for their room.

Sevilin merely stood there with his arms crossed, merely just being there for perhaps show. After all, Broog had tended to listen to him in Malik's absence and they had held a few conversations. But it seemed Zahara didn't need the help as she easily manipulated the system with Broog, earning herself a ticket from her collar, and sparing the ogre's feelings while also giving him something to do for a while. It worked. A nod at the creature. "Thank you broog." A look to Zahara and a nod of his head in the direction they had come from, before they headed back upstairs.

A pause in her trek as she came across the two. One hand to her stomach the other held to her mouth she looked to them both a moment. "Oh, just who I wanted to see...there's going to be a ball that King Jiscal is holding and I'm allowed to bring people...I was going to ask you both to go. And I'd stay for your answer, but I have to go pay homage to the porcelain god, so do excuse me." Thus continuing on upstairs to do so.

Sevilin merely blinked. Ask them? More like probably suggest and then if they said no, Malik would order. Though as the surface elf left, Zahara disappering breifly as well, he shook his head, attention turning to the drow as she came back...and apparently was going to decided to say yes to the invitation. Well...he wasn't going to let her go alone, which meant if she was going...he would be too...and she seemed to suggest that right off the bat. "Fancy clothes? No I don't...why?"

And there it was...he was at her mercy. Though not in the usual way, no he was at the mercy of her fashion sense...and his apparent lack of it as she was implying. Though he frowned when all of a sudden her was under assult of a tape measure...and was clearly glaring death at that little tailor...someone was going to be severly hurt in the next two minutes if they didn't stop touching him, and that's what that look said.

Though he doubted he could argue his way out of this one...if Zahara didn't have her way well he was sure someone else would make him wear something fancy...at least this way he got to have his say. Better open that mouth of ours that gets us into trouble again, eh Sevilin?

"I don't wears sleeves on my left side..." He just didn't. Ever. It was a thing with him, went back to his past somewhat, but also had other motives. Point was that's how it was. Then a little frown. "So I wear green all the time...it's my main House color..." Like his sisters whom were part of it? No, but the name and it's colors and traditions he held fast to. A wary look to all in that room as he reached a hand up to his shoulder, petting the little creature there almost as if for comfort.

He forwned again at her light little wrist smacking gesture to get his attention, meaning he looked away long enough and mumbled under his breath long enough to let the tailor get his measurements. "Who says? Women don't wear sleeves...and I've seen more than one man pull off fancy with no sleeves. I'm not having both arms covered..." Oh look, he was actually adamant and putting up a fight with her on the issue. Had a backbone on this one for certain.

Though a blink as she moved away to look at fabrics that were being already picked through. Oh what was he in for now? Soon enough though she was giving an example how a certain color would look on him. Not that he had an opinion about color...long as it was in darker shades. He just didn't wear bright or light colors. "Fancy is about details and draping of clothing...not covering everything up..."

He frowned. "If I cover my hands for keeping them safe for runing, then I only need one sleeve and that's on the right side, seeing as I rune with that hand. Leave it as it is." Nope, not giving into her on this issue. Hey he had to wear this stuff and he wasn't going to spend several hours uncomfortable in clothes that he didn't ever like to begin with. "Not wearing sleeves on both sides. You can't at least give me that when I'm letting you have your way over the majority of this, color and all?"

Oh look someone was being a referee between them...good because they would probably keep at this before someone started screaming at someone else, though he would put his money on her to start the shouting. But he only gave an exasperated sigh, and a step back when his tunic was brushed. Did he have to keep touching?

Crossing his arms over his chest he kept from rolling his eyes and only sighed once more. "Sounds fine to me. As long as everyone comes to agreement right?" Though the raise of an eyebrow at Zahara on her questions. "Runes will work well...don't have to be Andalian..." Because that was just dangerous...and runes of any place had a nice look to them.

King Jiscal I, how odd, that not even a year ago, that title would have been nothing more than the silent dream of his mother, yet here he was. Ruler of all Deep Water.

Yet, how vast was his empire? According to the former king, Jiscal was entitled to all the lands in known existance. A pitiful policy. What would be the benefit of ruling such a vast domain in such an ungodly place? The king sighed. At least, he could find out exactly which lands were worth keeping.

Deep Water, Lostagracia (Now Honoursfield), and the Purian Peninsula. That would be his internal sphere of influence. Dragnon in the distant north would be his portal to the rest of the underdark, as Dragnon had a history of such notabliity. It was very lucky that such a nice, and understanding (therefore dangerous) person of Akbarizad was readily availible shortly after the fall of Dimitri. Dragnon had been intrerested in the local variety of Kelp, which unlike so many other speices, could be baked into something like bread (Something, Jiscal had little knowledge of).

In three years time, or four at the most, Deep Water would be a glorious place. The archetecture would be stronger, the elements less of a threat, the food supplies strong, and the militia capable of fending off a small army of drow. The wonders that were worked, simply because any opposition to Jiscal disappeared in the night.

But, as of late, Tarathiel had been interferring less and less with the politics, offering less and less good advice, if any. the drow left a rather heavy not e in Jiscal's office one day, foretelling of the doom that was Tarathiel's mother, but retracted that notice shortly there after, with news of his mother's death, and the political instability it caused the armies of Domina.

The king sighed again. He was become rather depressed with all this dark thought, so he decided to seek out someone that would bring some measure of cheer to his dreary life. He smiled softy, he was king after all, there was nothing wrong with an abuse here or there...

But Jewel would not stand for that... So he would have to choose how valuable that girls life was. One brief moment of fun, followed by an eternity of waiting for a new girl, or keeping the company as is.

Usha's door appeared before him before he had answered that question, and his hand knocked in his normal demeaner.