Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was strange, Mal reflected thoughtfully, how alike dancing and fighting were. Oh, sure, they had their differences. Dancing generally didn’t include trying to stick sharp bits of steel into the other person, not unless you were doing something really wrong or if you had stepped on someone’s toes just once too often.

Still, there were similarities. Both included careful graceful movements, lots of sweat, and awkward moments. Come to think of it, that was a rough description of almost any event that involved large groupes of people, especially nobles. Especially the nobles of Xuan City.

They were the bluest of the blue-bloods, the upper-crust, the top of society. Mal knew a thing or two about crusts, creams, and society, and deemed this description accurate. The city was, after all, a melting pot, or so people said. Mal had noted long ago that the scum of cream always rose to the top first.

The gathering was an elegant affair hosted at one of the finer mansions in the city. Graceful paper lanterns decorated the walkway to the gorgeous house, their soft glow eventually giving way to the brighter shine of grand chandeliers inside the mansion. Along one side of the ball room, a long table was laid out with food: strawberries fresh from far away fields, tiny quail eggs, slivers of chicken prepared a hundred different ways, and more types of fruit than Mal had ever seen in his entire life. There were drinks as well, most of which Mal had never heard of. He was a long way aways from his usual fare, which generally consisted of whatever he could find and felt was safely edible. Opposite of the fingerfoods, a stair case rose up, leading up to the second floor. Music was provided by several musicians who were carefully tucked away in their own little corner up here. Mal didn’t recognize any of the tunes they played.

The nobles themselves were spread out on the floor, making an effort to look beautiful and an effort not to look like they were making an effort to look beautiful. Bright colors decorated their clothing, although lighter colors such as yellow, orange, or certain shades of greens were reserved for ladies, while the darker shades of red, blue, and, for a particularly brave man, purples were the realm of men. Jewels of every color glinted from fingers, winked at wrists, dangled from ears, and sparkled from the throats of women. Mal’s hands itched slightly, yearning to collect a few of those gems for himself. If not dancing or gathering around the refreshments or going outside for some fresh air, most of the nobles talked in pairs or groups. It was a slow purposeful dance of information, each noble a veritable bounty of data.

Some called it politics. Some called it the Great Game. Still others called it the Game of Houses. No matter the name, the basis of it was still the same, to find out information about your friends, family, and foes (or potential friends, family, and foes) and use it to your own benefit while appearing to do something completely different. Subtlety, intelligence, and the ability to always, always appear to be doing nothing at all were prized in this world.

Mal called this game ‘Silly Buggers’. And he could play it better.

Sipping at his wine, he started making his way towards the stairs. There were a couple balconies just beyond the stairs and he needed the fresh air. One could only take so much perfume before one started feeling light-headed. He had a feeling that was the point of the perfume, but he couldn’t help but wish that the women wouldn’t bathe in the damn stuff.

By the time he had reached the foot of the stairs, he had started about a dozen conflicting rumors about Malcolm Lansing.

With a smirk, he ascended the stairs and went out on one of the balconies. Lanterns in the shape of butterflies lent a soft multi-colored glow, courtesy of the stained glass in the wings. Mal traced a stone carving of ivy on the railing, considering what to do next.

He stood out. This was both intentional and coincidental. Mal realized that he would never ‘fit in’ with the nobles and made no attempt to do so. He radiated a perpetual ‘scruffiness field’, as he called it, that always rumbled his clothing, no matter what he wore. In contrast to the colors of the nobles, he opted for plain clothes of browns, grays, and the occasional hint of black. His dark brown hair, as always, was tousled as if he had just woken up. No gems or stones decorated him. He would have been mistaken for a soldier who had walked in by mistake which was pretty close to the truth. But, there was something about him that generally made even nobles take notice. It was the look in his gray eyes, the look that said, ‘I will not bow before you or change myself to please you’. If he seemed to be backing down, it was only so he could get a good run-up later.

As relaxed as he seemed, every muscle in his five foot three inch frame was tensed to react at the first sign of… well… anything, really. In war, there was no such thing as being moderately cautious. You were either completely cautious or you were dead. While he hoped the rapier that hung at his slim hip would remain unused, there was always the possibility that his daggers wouldn’t be enough protection. Behind his eyes, Mal’s mind whirred away endlessly.

Little did he know that a figure from his past was right below that same balcony…
~.~

Lieutenant Remiel Quillan had no interest in playing games of any sort. Unfortunately, he was having trouble convincing one young lady that this was so.

“Come on,” she purred lowly. “It’ll be fun! It’s not like anyone will know…” her slim hands played with Rem’s belt buckle.

Remiel grabbed her wrists and held them tightly. Normally, he would have been worried about harming her, but this was getting ridiculous! He had already told her several times that he was NOT interested! Was that really so difficult to believe?! Each time he said ‘no’, it only seemed to cement her interest in him. “Look, miss…” he hesitated, realizing that he didn’t even know the young lady’s name.

She smiled at him, mistaking his silence for a sign that he was thinking ‘yes’ even as his lips said ‘no’. Playing hard to get, was he? How adorable! “Mmm... so, you’re into the rough stuff then?” she wriggled her wrists lightly and winked at him.

He hurriedly let her go as if her wrists had suddenly turned into live brands. “No! I don’t want anything to do with you!”

“You mean I’m not attractive?” She demanded, her hands settling on her shapely hips. “Is that it?!” her features went from flirtatious to utterly pissed off. Her sizeable bosom was thrust towards the lieutenant like twin missiles.

The blonde man took a few steps back, his hands held up in the universal gesture for, ‘I’m not touching anything!’. “It’s not that! It’s just that I don’t know you! I don’t even know your name!”

Crossing her arms underneath her breasts---a movement that Rem felt ought to be banned in the war between the sexes---she scowled at him before turning away in a huff. Rem heard her mutter something under her breath, something along the lines of ‘damn, he’s uptight’.

Leaning back against the wall, Rem sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair, heedless of the strands he was disturbing. Good God, this city was impossible to understand! Whatever happened to honor? Morality? Justice? Common sense?!

He felt oddly out of place here. True, he dressed as his fellow nobles did, clad in shades of blue, but he couldn’t get his mind align with the trickery and deceit that riddled this city. An expensive and thorough education as a gentleman had left him decidedly unprepared for a life as a gentleman in Xuan City.

He almost yearned for the army life again. It was just so much… simpler. There was the enemy, right in front of you. You defended your friends and they watched your back in return because if they didn’t, you wouldn’t be there to watch their back when they needed it again. Camaraderie! That was the word he wanted. That was what he missed the most.

Many of the men----and quite a few of the women---in this place had taken part in duels. A few had actual battle experience.

None of them had an experience in war. That was a different world. Rem had been born into their world, a world of luxury and decadence, but then he had gone into an entirely different one.

War changed them all and left a faint patina on every soul it touched.

Still, that was a depressing thing to think about. This was not a night to be depressed.

By the time he had entered the mansion once more, another half dozen conflicting rumors had been started, this time regarding Lieutenant Remiel Quillan. He never paid attention to such things, regarding rumors as the playthings of those who didn’t have enough work to do. But, of course, this being Xuan City, most nobles assumed that his apparent complete lack of attention towards rumors meant that he was, in fact, monitoring them very closely. It was just too impossible to believe that there was a noble who was actually honest, just, and honorable. Those things just didn’t happen, except in fairy tales!
~.~

The garden in the backyard was another world entirely. Out in the back, moonlight filtered through verdant foliage and trickled its way to the ground. A few night-blooming plants had opened up their blossoms in the light of the evening. Leaves were perpetually rustling in this garden, where each plant was carefully chosen for beauty and, of course, being hardy even when gryphons were about. That sort of thing was important when trying to find a good place to keep the gryphons of the guests. Of course, a few were wandering around with their owners inside, but the majority were outside, where it wasn’t quite so stuffy and they could feel the wind under their feathers.

Just as food was provided for the human guests, there were treats offered to the gryphons as well. Bits of deer, rabbit, beef, pork, even boar were offered to the graceful creatures, who were, more or less, left to themselves. This was a night of relaxation for the gryphons, and a night to meet up with their fellow grphons.

Aeron, for one, was enjoying himself immensely. He nibbled curiously at a few of the meats, trying to recognize them. Being a wild-borne creature himself, he knew a fair bit about game-meat. Like his owner, Malcolm, Aeron stood out with his wild and natural plumage. Mostly tan, he darkened at the tufts of fur on his legs and the feathers on the tips of his wings. With his wings spread out, it was possible to see dark bars on the underside of them, while his creamy belly was speckled with black. He bore a crown of black feathers, just as arrogant as any king and there was a definite imperial glint to his golden eyes. Bells jingled on his leg, neck, and tail, adding their song to the rustling leaves.

Aeron was very proud of his shiny, shiny bells. Leaning over, he delicately adjusted one of the bells on his front leg before glancing around. There were lots of pretty females to flirt with tonight! But… Sekhmet wasn’t among the ones he had seen thus far, which made him a little sad. He liked Sekhmet. Even more than he usually liked other gryphons, even. Maybe even more than he liked his bells!

Tapping one of the bells thoughtfully with his beak, he gave this thought due consideration.