Do a little dance... get down tonight...

["Kathie Care" <kathie@availablelight.net>]

I've not seen any logs from the event at Revelers hit the list yet, so, I'm
sending mine. In the interest of file size, I've not included the descs of
the players. They were all so well-done, it was a hard decision to make.
Thanks, all, for a really fun evening of spontaneous merriment!

Kathie (aka Tat'iana)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

11/27/00
Logfile from DuneIII
Where the Great Houses vie for power in the Padishah Imperium....


Ballroom -- Revelers (Kaitain)

     The first impression upon entering this large, domed ballroom is
one of music. Not just the melodies that waft from the low stage at
the far end of the hall, but the room itself with its sweeping curved
walls and columns, large floral patterns, and complementary shades of
green and pink and gold, accented with black. Everything is designed
to draw the eye toward the central dance floor crowded with revelers.

     Women in flowing gowns and men in formal black, or costumed in
motley, whirl across the dance floor, parade along the colonnade, or
enjoy refreshments on the raised patio. Almost everyone is masked and
these are often elegant and elaborate creations of papier macheÕ
and
lace or gauze and glitter, feathers, beads, ribbons, gold leaves,
even precious gems and seed pearls, as each reveler strives to out-do
the next.

     Murals painted on large wall panels copy watercolor techniques
with washes of muted shades over which are drawn black outline
sketches of a lush garden on Caladan, a high walled pleasure palace
of Gamont, the exotic green Pleniscenta bloom of Ecaz, and the
mysterious spaceship Ampoliros. The floor is carpeted in royal purple
surrounding the paler wood dance floor of faux Giedi marble in white
with violet and gold veins.

     The costumes worn here are as varied and distinctive as the
imaginations of the revelers can produce. Slaves dance with
mysterious cat creatures. Smugglers disappear into the shadows with
princesses. Paladins share tables with jesters and clowns. And
figures in black cloaks and featureless white masks pass through the
crowd incognito.

                    <There are places here. +places/help.>

Players:

 Raschid                                            Anakiel

 Sylvie                                             Fahahd

 Ulricke                                            Cromwell

 Ruhail                                             Trasil

 Sarah

Exits:

 Wide Marble Staircase <U> leads to Balcony -- Revelers (Kaitain)

 Mirrored Door <MD> leads to Hall of Mirrors -- Revelers (Kaitain)

 Lacquered Door <LL> leads to Ladies' Lounge -- Revelers (Kaitain)

 Columned Door <GL> leads to Gentlemen's Lounge -- Revelers (Kaitain)


One of the twin constellations attending upon the Bajazet Sultan
steps forward and curtsies to him, her bright orange wings tipping up
as she does so. Dressed as al-Anka, the phoenix, she is led off by
the Sultan himself onto the floor; the couple is shortly lost in the
twirling forms of dancers.

Lena comes in from the Ladies' Lounge.

Lena has arrived.

The costume men in Ruhail's entourage glance about with such
frequency that it would be hard to place them as anything other but
security. The mingle among the dancers and from vantage points,
keeping there eye on his whereabouts.

Lena enters the Ballroom from the lacquered door of the Ladies'
Lounge holding a goblet of wine. She smiles mischievously as she
makes her way across the floor searching the faces of those she
passes trying to guess at their identity.

Sylvie tries to catch Fahahd's attention, pointing at the dancefloor
and grinning.

Sarah stands and leaves the table.

Ulricke finds herself a chaise and lounges on it, a Valkyrie
overlooking an entirely different, but no less veritable battlefield -
 the dance floor. She perches on her side like a queen on a throne,
the cut of her paneled skirt revealing legs that surely in the
venacular, reach all the way to Valhalla.

A Lady dressed in a gown and mask reminiscent of a peacock steps
through the doors to the ballroom, as a man in a simple black dress
uniform and black mask steps out through the gentleman's lounge into
the ballroom. Once inside, they step closer to each other once more,
searching through the costumes and partially-visible faces in the
room for anyone who looks familiar. She waves a feathered fan
serenely as she looks around.

The black canine bends his head attentively to Sylvie - green eyes
behind the PVc obviously curious. He murmurs a query in his harshly
accented voice.

The Harkonnen griffin-boy looks around for a moment, then spots a
place out of the way. Longingly, he gazes at it, but...he
nevertheless remains near the canine guardsman. It's quite possible
he's supposed to.

Cabal comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Cabal has arrived.

Cromwell casualy winds his way through the colonade taking in the
gathering with cool calculation.

Sen comes in from the Ladies' Lounge.

Sen has arrived.

Boris comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Boris has arrived.

The dancers billow back and forth throughout, causing commotion to
those unfortunate enough to try and wade through the sea of humanity,
back to the relative safety of the chaises. Men and women in black
capes and white masks approach wallflowers with a rose, drawing them
in to the dancefloor.

Cabal enters with an unusual gait to his walk, as if skipping to
purposefully mock himself, or at least the costume he is wearing. He
stops somewhere in the crowd and begins looking for familiar faces...

Ruhail walks out onto the dance floor.

Sen drifts lightly in simultaneously with her Baron but from the
opposite side of the room, circling the floor to attend him.

Ulricke is reclining on a chaise like Cleopatra...if she were Norse.
She's enjoying the view of the dance floor, and casually dismisses
any man that mistakes -her- for a wallflower.

A vast man-wolf enters, chuckling to himself, a knot of costumed
retainers in tow. He rubs his hands and orders, "Wine, if they have
any here, and keep it coming, eh?"

Ulricke enters the colonnade.

Ulricke leaves the colonnade.

Ulricke sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Cromwell enters the colonnade.

Fahahd raises his muzzle a little as the elder wolf enters, before
again inclining his head to Sylvie.

A waiter dressed as a bishop hears and obeys, bowing deeply and
scurrying off with infinite poise to recover wine for the Siridar.

Sarah sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Sylvie nods to Fahahd and turns to smile brightly at Boris,
commenting as she crosses the distance between them, "Don't you look
the beast, My Lord."

Boris approaches Sylvie, extending a hand to her in courtly manner.
He chortles, "The better to eat you with, madam. Will you gavotte
with me?" he asks, half-bowed to her.

Fahahd pads softly along behind the lady, his mask in keeping with
his duty, it seems. But the green eyes behind the black leather are
oddly wary.

Sylvie curtsies as she laughs, "With pleasure, My Lord."

Anakiel's eyes flick across the newly entered Harkonnen...and stop on
Sen. He blinks vaguely, caught by the celestial spectacle, and seems
utterly unaware that his 'escort' has trundled on without him.

Ulricke watches the old wolf with a wry and yet oddly soft smile for
a moment, before her eyes rest on Cabal. Then they turn mirthful, and
she hides her laughter via her cup of wine.

Cabal spots what he believes to be someone he knows, and is about to
make his way to her table when takes a moment to grin and bow with
the flourish of a jester to Boris and company. "My Baron, it seems
House Harkonnen has set the standard again."

Sen follows her bestial master on tiptoe, intercepting the wine as it
returns and uncorking it herself, with a twist of the wrist and her
short fingernails in the cork. She passes a hand discreetly over the
mouth of the bottle, pauses, and pours for the Baron.

Sarah sits down at a table by herself, looking a bit lonely.

Boris calls to Cabal, as he leads Sylvie to the floor, "We are the
makers of manners, Warmaster!" With that, he sets to dance with
Sylvie, light on his feet for a man his size, and considering the
bulky wolf-skin he's draped in.

As Sylvie is passed off to the Baron, the guard hound
withdraws...backing to where the blond griffling stands gawking at
the wolf's guardian angel. "Close your mouth, there," he urges, in a
low, amused voice. "Or you'll end up catching flies?"

A beautiful nymph, who wears the twinkling stars of a constellation,
is escorted to the floor by a fellow with skin like midnight dressed
in snow white garb. He seems very stiff with her, and she gives no
undue affection in return.

Anakiel does an admirable job of fluttering as he tries to compose
himself. He's probably blushing, but while the hooked beak dips, any
rosiness is hidden thankfully by black leather.

Sen hands the bottle off to an attending Harkonnen slave and turns
with a flicker of her wingtips to be seated, carefully arranging
their expansive span out of the way behind her. Her eyes rarely leave
her Baron.

The feathered peacock glances around the room once more, chuckling to
herself at a couple of the costumes present. She touches the black-
garbed man next to her on the arm lightly, and gestures to the
colonnade as she murmurs, "I think I will be able to observe better
from there, for a time." Fluttering her fan, she sets off towards it.

Ulricke's eyes are attracted to the ebony man, she watches how he and
the woman dance with interest.

Sylvie looks at the other dancers as she is led to the dance floor,
but as soon as the Baron begins leading her in the dance, her
attention is solely upon him.

You enter the arched and columned walkway.

Sen sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Three constellations dance and twirl, near one another on the floor.

Cabal sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Raschid nods softly to the costumed Lady and mutters something into
her ear before following a step behind.

Raschid enters the colonnade.

Boris walks out onto the dance floor.

Sylvie walks out onto the dance floor.

The orchestra concludes it's present number and couples across the
dancefloor take pause to bow to each other. Three or four depart at
this time, but the majority remain where they are as the orchestra
quickly begins a waltz.

Ruhail leaves the dance floor.

Fahahd rests a hand on the arm of the Harkonnen youth, drawing him a
little towards the end of the colonnade - apparently a suggestion
that they withdraw.

The Baron leads Sylvie in the waltz, leaning close to her ear to jest
with her a moment.

Ruhail enters the colonnade.

Trasil enters the colonnade.

In the colonnade, Cromwell leans against one of pillars, sips a
cordial made from distilled Sapho juice, and observes the proceddings
with detached amusement.

Anakiel seems only too happy to, enfolding himself in his midnight-
colored wings and padding that way. Perhaps amazingly, he manages to
negotiate the crowd without bumping into anyone.

Ulricke watches the little contingent enter the colonnade with some
amusement, and goes back to watching the dance floor.

In the colonnade, Ruhail and the Bajazet party steps up to the
colonnade, both of the Baron's attendant concubines fading to the
background to rest and refresh themselves with glasses of wine. The
Baron himself twirls his bow and carefully inspects the other
revelers, ascertaining their identities.

Fahahd draws back, as the colonnade grows too crowded. Instead, he
drifts towards the table where the other Harkonnen sit, to hover at a
properly deferential distance behind them.

Sylvie presses so close against Boris as they dance, it's a wonder
they can manage the steps of the waltz.

In the colonnade, Tat'iana walks a few steps along the colonnade,
then pauses next to a column. She does not lean against it, but does
let her shoulder brush against it faintly. Continuing to look about
at all the costumes, she pauses upon seeing the white-garbed man
enter, an eyebrow rising behind her mask as she thinks she's pieced
together his identity.

In the colonnade, Trasil stands observantly, watching the revelers,
but also keeping an eye on his Sultan.

Anakiel executes a deft turn, dodging a man in a leopard mask in
order to remain a certain distance from the guardsman.

In the colonnade, Ruhail passes over towards the Rastanyev
delegation, perhaps one step ahead, with one of his concubines on his
arm. "It appears that there is more than one Phoenix in attendance
this evening," he says in a low rumble. The woman at his arm, dark-
skinned and attired in an ornate costume of orange and yellow
feathers, smiles lightly and performs a deferential bend at her
stomach.

Boris whirls Sylvie lightly in his arms with a laugh and a roar.

Ulricke is suddenly quite attentive to the targeted Sardaukar, her
hand going to his and brought to his lips. She laughs and talks with
him quietly.

Sylvie blushes at some remark of the Baron's as she twirls around.

A pair of little fish, known by their sea-green wigs, trailing filmy
sleeves and blue glitter covering their faces, dance and giggle about
a tall, thick-necked man dressed as some variety of shark. He laughs
huskily under the hood which covers his head and blends it into his
shoulders, white teeth shining in the glowglobes and candles.

Fahahd sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Sarah has disconnected.

The Black Cat pads to a corner and leans against a wall with a mural
of one of the pleasure palaces on Gamont; Her hips jut out while her
shoulder leans against the mural and she folds her arms. Feline eyes
scan the room as she watches the scene with obvious amusement,
content to observe for a while.

Trasil has disconnected.

In the colonnade, Tat'iana chuckles lightly as she nods, then
curtseys gracefully to the Sultan. "Indeed, m'Lord Sultan, it does
seem so," she replies smoothly, her eyes passing over the young woman
actually customed as a phoenix, as she nods to her. "A splendid
costume. I almost chose a similar one for myself, however... it just
didn't seem right. It looks lovely on you."

Sylvie misses a step in the dance, but quickly recovers.

The Baron gracefully leads Sylvie as they step together, but he
doesn't miss a pace.

In the colonnade, the young woman in a phoenix costume, rather than
tittering as one might expect, smiles broadly. "Many thanks, m'Lady,"
she says, executing a light curtsey. "Our Slavemaster thought it
would be most engaging to dress as the stars this evening." Her voice
carries a gentle accent, but she is on the whole quite well spoken in
Galach.

In the colonnade, Raschid bows slightly as he sees the Baron
approaching, he never strays far from the side of the costumed
Lady. "Lord Sultan I hope the evening finds you and your's well?"

Fahahd's mask reveals little of his face..and what little there is
seems utterly expressionless beyond a keen attentiveness. He occupies
himself with keeping watch on the room, though the bulk of his
attention seems to be on his Baron and the concubine.

Malia comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Malia has arrived.

Jihat comes in from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Jihat has arrived.

Ulricke rises from her table and with an utterly cheerful smile on
her face, walks over to the colonnade.

In the colonnade, Raschid would appear to be carefully observing the
concubine for a moment before returning his attentions to the Sultan.

In the colonnade, Ruhail smiles and appends in explination, "Al-anka,
the phoenix. A constellation from the skies of our ancient home." He
turns to a man in the black mask. "Quite well, Master. Thank you for
the inquiry." His manner might be considered curt, but it could
easily be explained by a noted probing glance at Tat'iana.

Fahahd trails after Ulricke, reflexively.

Ulricke stands and leaves the table.

Ulricke enters the colonnade.

Sylvie waltzes with light and graceful steps once again, almost as
skilled on the dance floor as her partner.

At the table, Cabal calls out to no servant in particular, "Wine!
Wine for this impatient and thirsty Imperial Terror Trooper!" The
result of stampeding servants to attend him is rather amusing...

In the colonnade, Ruhail, a concubine attendant, and the Rastanyevs
stand clustered by one column, talking quietly.

Sen keeps an eye(only one) on Ulricke as she approaches the Bajazets.

In the colonnade, Cromwell leans against the colonade, sipping his
drink.

In the colonnade, Ulricke walks over to the little group, expression
pleasant, save for the intense blue of her eyes, and a slightly
wicked smile. "Ah, what's this?" she says grandly. "Standing off to
the side, and at such a grand gathering. The room is terribly
unbalanced, gentlemen..." she pauses, as if the thought just occurred
to her, eyes falling on Ruhail. "Would the Sultan care to dance?"
Why, -the nerve-! A Harkonnen, what's more, a /woman/, addressing the
Sultan, and in such a fashion!

Malia slips quietly into the ballroom, looking only slightly
uncomfortable, hiding the majority of what she's feeling rather well.
She lifts her gaze from the floor, glancing quickly around the room
to see where best she should go.

In the colonnade, Cromwell grins slightly within the shadows of his
cloak and mask.

Boris is about to ask Sylvie something, when he notes where Ulricke
is, out of the corner of his eye. He pauses from speaking, angling
Sylvie to get a better view of what's transpiring with his daughter
and his foes.

At the table, Cabal receives his requested wine in adundance, and
watches Ulricke's approach to the Bajazets in poorly concealed
amusement. He notices Malia discreetly making her way through the
crowd, and with a wry smile, waves her over to his table to join him.

In the colonnade, Ruhail clears his throat and turns slowly, lizard-
like, to look at this new addition to the erstwhile quiet
gathering. "M'lady," he says after a moment's pause. "We have not had
the...pleasure of meeting you before." He forbears from further
speech, waiting for this upstart to either introduce herself or flit
off somewhere else.

Jihat walks in quietly. He raises himself over the crowd in an
attempt to find his fellow Rastanyevs.

The guard dog is a few steps behind Ulricke, concealing his amusement
at her temerity behind the glossy leather of his mask.

Malia catching sight of Cabal and the motioning of her towards the
table, she swallows, her tongue moving to wet her lips before she
lowers her eyes back to the floor. After a moment's hesitation, the
slave moves forward, somehow managing to avoid bumping into anyone as
she moves, despite the fact she doesn't noticably look up.

Malia sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Tat'iana, as the peacock, chuckles lightly, her attention drawn from
the Sultan and his concubine to the Valkyrie that just approached.
She raises her fan a notch to cover her mouth from view with its
flutterings, her eyes moving from the Valkyrie to the Constellationed
Sultan, and back.

In the colonnade, Ulricke is an upstart indeed, and she calmly offers
her hand and says, "Lady Ulricke Sasha Ludmilla Harkonnen." her eyes
lock on his, daring him. Daring him to take it and play the civil
noble, and just as much daring him to spit at her feet or in her
face. But which will he do?

Sylvie keeps pace with the Baron, trying not to grin when she sees
what Ulricke is up to. When they stop at the edge of the dancefloor,
Sylvie glances around again. Seeing Jihat, she waves at him.

Anakiel just sort of watches the room in general. Either he isn't
aware of what exactly Ulricke is up to, or he doesn't care.

Jihat wears a simple costume of a knight in armor. The shine of the
armor glints against the pale light as he makes his way over to the
Rastanyev table. He looks a little nervous, but that was
understandable; it was his first time in such a place with people
such as these. Looking over to the dance floor, he sees Sylvie wave
to him. He waves back, grinning slightly.

Sylvie turns her attention back to the group in the colonnade, and
begins to pick out who's who behind the masks. Having identified one
Rastanyev, it doesn't take her long to pick out the others.

Behind the Valkyrie, the hound's eyes narrow very slightly. He
watches her carefully, gaze flickering between the Bajazet lord and
his own young mistress. Sultan or not, he doesn't seem willing to
brook any offense to the Lady.

In the colonnade, Ruhail takes the Harkonnen by his left hand and
raises it in a partial shake. His lips twist upwards at the corners,
but his eyes and expression refuse to take part in this smile, making
him a very odd figure to look upon indeed. "Lady Ulricke," he says in
a sigh. "A pleasure." He looks back to his companion, who in spite of
the warmth, would appear to be shivering. He whispers something in
Amat to her with a smile before looking back. "Is your father aware
of this proposal?" It's a fool's question, and the Sultan undoubtedly
knows this. Still, the repurcussions would be interesting to say the
least.

In the colonnade, Ulricke seems delighted, and faintly amused when
her hand is shaken, rather than kissed. "I didn't detail my itinerary
to him, if that's what you mean." she says blithely. "Did you ask
your father, Lord-Sultan?"

Cabal stands and leaves the table.

In the colonnade, Tat'iana continues to look on, the fluttering of
her fan slowing, then stopping altogether, at the Sultan's question.
She looks to him, her mask hiding the surprise on her face, but then
the Lady's retort causes her to turn her attention back to the
Valkyrie once more. A small chuckle escapes her, too late for her to
stifle it.

Sylvie's attention wanders from the Sultan and Ulricke to the others
in the colonnade and she smiles at Raschid and waves.

Jihat sees Raschid adn Tat'iana speaking with a few others. His ideas
on greeting them evaporate. His unwillingness to disrupt their
conversation takes their place. Instead, Jihat makes his way to a
table, calling to a nearby waiter for a drink.

A tiny grin flickers over the lips of the Harkonnen guard, as he
stands tautly behind Ulricke.

Sylvie giggles and walks with the Baron to get a glass of wine.

Boris leaves the dance floor.

Sylvie leaves the dance floor.

Raschid smiles and he notices Sylvie and he gives a smile and a bow
in her direction, and perhaps just a flicker of understanding as they
make eye contact.

In the colonnade, Cromwell slips around to the other side of the
pillar he is leaning against in order to get a better view of the
goings on. He takes in both the exchange within the colonnade and
also that of the spectators.

Cabal leaves his table and begins making his way across the colonnade
as he heads directly toward Cromwell...

In the colonnade, Ruhail's face takes on a solemn disposition, while
he still maintains a fairly friendly tone. "I ask my father daily of
what lies before me. Surely his answers are delivered unto me by
Heaven." A religious Sultan? More likely a ruse. "I would commend you
to do the same." He looks over his shoulder and catches the Baron's
eye on him with a smile. "He is no doubt eager to speak with you on
the issue." The Sultan blinks twice, pausing briefly to see if the
Harkonnen girl has yet another retort for him.

Jihat glances at Lena for a moment from his seat before turning his
attention back to the waiter to receive his drink.

Sylvie says wordlessly, "Later?" mouthing the word to Raschid and
giving him a questioning glance.

Anakiel, for whatever reason, wanders off into the crowd, away from
the comparative safety of the other Harkonnen at his table.
Probably....only because no one is watching him at the moment.

Jihat sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Raschid smiles again more warmly this time and crooks a brow as he
mouths back, "Certainly, Lady."

Boris grins at Ulricke and the Bajazets. "Uli!" he calls. "Who's your
friend, eh?" He ambles over, happily.

The woman on the Sultan's arm bolts upright as she notices who has
decided to join the colonnade. She presses against his body slightly
more as the man approaches; Ruhail's expression doesn't seem to
change much at all.

Boris enters the colonnade.

Anakiel ends up some distance away, gazing at the dance floor with no
small amount of curiosity.

Cabal saunters up to Cromwell in a rather ridiculous manner
considering his costume. As he approaches the solitaire man, he bows
with a grin and invites, "Would His Imperial Majesty's Mentat care to
join me at my table for a drink and conversation?"

Fahahd stands and leaves the table.

Fahahd sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

In the colonnade, Tat'iana notices the actions of Raschid next to
her, and clears her throat quietly. She gives him a pointed glance,
before turning her attention to the Baron Harkonnen.

Boris just looked at you.

Sen claps her hands discreetly. "Boy," she lilts in a voice pitched
only to carry as far as Anakiel, "come pour the slave's wine into a
dish so she may lap it up unaided."

Fahahd steps aside slightly to allow his Baron passage, bowing very
slightly. He continues to observe Ulricke and the Sultan blandly.

In the colonnade, Cromwell turns slightly toward the Sardaukar
parody, "Well trooper I am not in the habit of conversing with those
below the rank of Bashar. Perhaps you had better go and kill a few
more enemies of his Majesty and then we may be able to talk."

Malia really should have been ready for something like that from Sen.
She lowers her head slightly farther where she sits at the table.

Anakiel takes a bit longer than he probably should to realize he's
being talked to. Finally, however, he turns and putters back to the
table. An utterly blank look is aimed at Sen while he works on
rewinding his mental tape back to the instructions, then obediently
sets about complying.

Sen stands and leaves the table.

Sylvie leans against Boris as she listens to the rise and fall of the
conversation, her hand running idly over the wolf pelt on his back.

Jihat sips at his drink, reviewing the situation silently. The sweet
taste fills his mouth and kicks him as he swallows.

Sen has already forgotten about Anakiel and Malia by the time she
pushes back her seat and rises out of it, as the Baron has evidently
crossed some invisible radius about the Sultan. She springs off of
the Harkonnen table's platform, wings snapping out with a muffled
thwap, and glides down to light on her toes before the colonnade.

Sen enters the colonnade.

Fahahd stands and leaves the table.

Fahahd enters the colonnade.

Cabal chuckles lightly, somewhat surprised to find a sense of humor
in a Mentat, and he returns with a sinister smile, "It would seem the
Emperor has no more enemies left to be killed, Lord Cromwell, unless
of course you include the assassin of our former Emperor, Jeon XIV,
who's still at large last I heard. But I thought the chance to speak
with Malia would be enticement enough for one so accustomed to
misplacing things." His expression becomes implacably impudent.

Ruhail's eyes fall on the Harkonnen entourage that appears to be
crowding around his person. Such odd little things these people
insist on bringing into their fold. Behind him, twin Janissary
guards, dressed identically as Corsairs, stiffen further to attention
and swivel their hips outwards.

Anakiel sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

In the colonnade, Tat'iana smiles archly, turning to the Baron
Harkonnen and lowering her feathered fan. "M'Lord Baron, I don't
think we've yet had a formal introduction," she says in a smooth,
soft tone, extending her hand to him. "Lady Tat'iana Anstasovna
Rastanyev..."

Jihat watches Sen as she leaves her table, passing by him on her way
to the colonnade. Her grace amazes him; she looks so young. His gaze
slips past her unto Fahahd for a moment; a bodyguard, he guessed. He
returned his eyes to his drink, now at half, but he trains his ears
on the conversation to his back.

Anakiel is left to tend to the hobbled slave...which he really
doesn't seem to mind doing.

Fahahd all but mirrors the motion of the Janissaries, though his
expression changes not a white. The eyes that peer out from behind
the mask are keen, though, as he remains behind his Baron and Lady.

Sylvie murmurs to Boris, "Would you mind if I visited with that
diplomat all by himself there, My Lord?" She gestures toward Jihat's
table.

Boris grins at Ulricke and the Bajazets. "Uli!" he calls. "Who's your
friend, eh?" He ambles over, happily.

Boris shakes his head at Sylvie. "No, no, come and tell me about the
fellow later. Looks a gloomy sort."

Ulricke smiles disarmingly. "Actually, I am told that Paradise lies
at a mother's feet." The woman has the audacity to quote the Koran
back to Ruhail, and then turns with a smile. "I was asking the Lord
Sultan Ruhail to dance with me, Father...but I believe he is going to
refuse me."

Sen doesn't mirror anyone. She retains an aura of stillness around
herself as she stands balanced on the balls of her feet, toes
together, utterly serene.

Sylvie grins and disappears into the crowd, only to reappear at the
tables.

Boris smirks. "Perhaps he's afraid of a real woman, Uli. Or perhaps
he simply can't dance."

Anakiel is eventually brought a small dish, which he takes graciously
and sets on the table. Picking up a flagon, he pours a bit into the
dish and slides it in front of the slavegirl.

Sylvie sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Boris approaches Ruhail, pulling back his wolfshead mask to look the
fellow in the eye. "Lord Sultan Ruhail, eh? Baron Boris Harkonnen,
I'm sure you've heard of me." he says with a grin. "What's this about
you not wanting to dance with my daughter?"

Sen looks up at Ruhail thoughtfully. She's heard of him as well.

In the colonnade, Cromwell sluffs off Cabal's jibe with a dismissive
snort and remains intent of the harko-bajazet exchange.

"Because he had already promised me one," Tat'iana speaks clearly
from her place near the column, her fan's fluttering picking up once
more.

Sen just looked at you.

Ruhail turns around, bringing himself face to face with this man, the
Baron Harkonnen. "Siridar-Baron Harkonnen," he says in a stiff
voice. "Had we known that we were to meet the Household of our Right
Honorable Friend this evening, we would have invited our Noble Wife,
and perhaps a kinsmen acquainted with yourselves." He looks back at
Tat'iana as she makes her remark, but decides not to verbalize any
sentiment regarding it. "The Lord Bashir, perhaps."

Ulricke looks languidly at Tat'iana. "I was not aware that there was
a quota on the dancing." she looks back to Ruhail and her father.

Malia closes her eyes for a long moment as the dish is slid in front
of her. She pays little attention to what's going on around her,
deciding it's better to act as if they weren't there if she's to lap
wine from a bowl like an animal. Without a sound, she lowers her head
over the dish, and as ordered, begins to dip her tongue into the
liquid, attempting to take any decent amount she can manage.

Fahahd remains poised near the Harkonnen nobles, as if his current
posture were habitual. His air is oddly absent-minded, his gaze
oblique, as he continues to watch the Bajazet Sultan. A cat may look
at a king, they say...so well may a hound observe the Siridars.

Ulricke ah's. "It would indeed be a pleasure to meet your bas-
kadin...I understand it would be a rare treat for her to leave the
Seraglio."

Tat'iana laughs lightly, shrugging off Ulricke's comment. "Of course
there's not a quota, dear," she answers softly, the motion of her fan
stopping for just a moment.

Boris glances about, theatrically. "Where is the Lord Bashir, anyway?
Out polishing glass on Malarca Secundus, eh? I understand that the
landscape is covered with it, eh, isn't that right, Swordmaster?"

Sen replies gravely in her flat youthful voice, "It forms a sea both
deep and wide, My Baron."

Tat'iana decidedly frowns as the thinly-veiled insults continue to
fly. She looks to her side, and realizes that the Mentat, Raschid,
has slipped from her side with a slight start.

Boris offers a snort, a bow and a grin to the Lady Tat'iana. "Lady
Tat'iana," he rumbles, as he rises. "Surely you know my name, eh?"

"She is quite ill," Ruhail agrees. "Our House Suk is insistent that
she not strain herself unneccesarily." At the Baron's mention of the
word Swordmaster, however, Ruhail's lazy demeanor and trained
attention vanish. His eyes are drawn over to the angelic figure
addressed by the Baron. Surprisingly, he is either unable or
unwilling to draw his attention from there. "The Lord Bashir remains
in our Court on Kaitain," he says, his voice becoming nearly a
rumble. "The landscape on our fief, covered in glass and Harkonnen
poison..." his concubine audibly gasps as Ruhail makes this comment.
He turns back to Boris at last, concluding, "...are tended to by the
Hacegan."

Cabal shrugs bemusedly at Cromwell, returning the disregard for more
interesting distractions. Satisfied with his conversation with the
Imperial Mentat, he decides to join the festivities occurring
elsewhere and walks towards Boris and the Bajazet Sultan.

You sense: Boris takes a moment to ogle your form, quite frankly.

Tat'iana gives the Baron a thin smile, dipping into a curtsey in
response to his bow. "But of course, m'Lord Baron..." she responds,
her voice even, her slight unease hidden by a sweet tone.

Ulricke sighs softly. "A simple request to dance, and it turns into
such as this." she looks at her father and Ruhail." Then grins
impishly to Tat'iana and the concubine saying in a gently amused
tone, "Men." she then looks to Ruhail. "Does the Lord Sultan wish to
converse with my father on these unpleasant matters - surely more
appropriately spoken about in Landsraad chambers, or in this festive
occaision?"

Sen's wingtips flicker. They are extraordinarily lifelike. "I'm
certain they are tended well," she intones to noone in particular in
that same weirdly sexless, pastel-coloured voice.

Boris senses, "Tat'iana would be blushing fiercely at the ogling,
were it not for the protection of the covering of her mask to hide
it."

Ruhail grins at last at Ulricke's comments, baring his teeth. "Well
put, daughter of the Baron. The burden of leadership is strong, and
the deaths of our subjects leaves a terrible taste in our mouth. One
which we would not care to taste again." He turns his head to the
Lady Rastanyev, and disengages his arm from that of his
concubine. "M'lady Tat'iana...you wished to dance?"

Malia straightens, lifting her head to actually look at Anakiel as
she says something quietly to him.

Boris shrugs, generously. "Oh, very well, Uli, I'll cross swords with
his Lordship another time, eh? And there will be another time, eh
Sultan?"

Cromwell slides away from the colonnade

Cromwell leaves the colonnade.

Cromwell climbs the stairs to the balcony.

Cromwell has left.

"Indeed," Tat'iana breathes with relief, "Let's leave such serious
topics to the council chamber. I intend to collect on my dance,
m'Lord Sultan." She steps around the crowd to lay her hand lightly on
his arm so that he might escort her to the dancefloor.

The muzzle of the guard-dog mask lifts just a fraction, as if
scenting the air.

Boris turns away, to call for wine as he heads for the Harkonnen
table.

"There always has been, Baron," Ruhail agrees, slipping off of the
Colonnade with Tat'iana on his arm.

Cabal inserts himself into the conversation occuring between his
House and that of the Bajazets with little regard for manners, as
befitting the archetype of his costume. He muses to Ulricke with a
perfectly wicked smile, though he looks to the Sultan as he
speaks, "I do hope I am interrupting? Ah, I see our...friends the
Bajazets know another guise other than that of a partisan? What a
delightful variety!" He looks incredulous as if he just noticed the
Bajazet contingent through their costumes.

Anakiel is just looking at the slavegirl quietly, responding to her.

Sen watches after the Sultan for a few breaths, committing him to
memory, then turns and follows her master back up the steps to their
table.

Sen leaves the colonnade.

Raschid leaves the colonnade.

Ruhail leaves the colonnade.

You leave the colonnade.

Ulricke shrugs. "It is of no matter father. Obviously the Lord Sultan
would rather be rude when offered a civil and courteous gesture on my
part, a minor show in some diplomatic way that he can be civilized,
and prove himself gentleman enough to even partner the daughter of
his enemy. Apparently he is incapable of such magnanimous a
practice." she looks to Cabal, amused. She moves to him, slipping her
hand on his arm and following back to the table.

Sylvie spies the Rastanyev Mentat as he wanders from the colonnade
and waves to him.

You walk out onto the dance floor.

You sense: Ulricke gives you a -look- as you lead off. Your school
friend is probably going to be quite put off with you for a bit.

Ruhail follows Tat'iana onto the floor, smiling all the way.

Ruhail walks out onto the dance floor.

Fahahd drifts after the departing Harkonnen, tread as soft as a
dancer's. The mask still conceals most of his features, but he seems
almost pensive.

Fahahd leaves the colonnade.

Fahahd sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Raschid smiles and nods once more to Sylvie, as he threads his ways
through the tables he glances towards the dance floor, the slightest
trace of a frown visible briefly underneath his mask.

Boris turns away, to call for wine as he heads for the Harkonnen
table.

Boris leaves the colonnade.

Boris sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Cabal is only too happy to lead the lovely Ulricke, envy of all men,
back to the table where Malia sits with Anakiel.

Anakiel picks up the dish in which he'd poured the wine, and holds it
for Malia so she can drink without staining her finery.

Raschid sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Ulricke leaves the colonnade.

Ulricke sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Cabal sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Sen sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

The departure is well-timed, for the orchestra has just begun another
piece. The music calls for steps neither too complicated, nor too
slow, and the Lady Rastanyev and the Baron Bajazet begin the dance.
By their postures, complete propriety is the aim of this dance, and
nothing more.

Sen stands and leaves the table.

Sen sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Ulricke stands and leaves the table.

Ulricke sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Cabal stands and leaves the table.

Cabal sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Raschid glances at Sylvie "And? I trust it was an..ahem...educational
experience?"

On the dance floor, Tat'iana sighs deeply after the dance is
sufficiently underway. In a quiet tone, she murmurs, "I apologize,
m'Lord Sultan, if I have over-stepped this time. I hope that my
assistance was a help, and not a hindrance, in this instance."

Sylvie nods and laughs as she answers, "Very."

On the dance floor, Ruhail's voice modulates up and down as he
follows in step. "Your assistance was most appreciated, m'Lady.
Manners are one concern, but we are the figurehead of all those under
our care. Dancing with a Harkonnen is out of the question while our
Landsraad claim is outstanding."

On the dance floor, Tat'iana nods slowly, "Exactly my concern. But at
any rate, this gives me opportunity to personally convey to you my
sincerest apologies over the trouble between our Houses. I intend to
do everything in my power to ensure that any remaining issues - and
lingering feelings of ill-will - are resolved, to the satisfaction of
all."

On the dance floor, Ruhail inclines his head at the suggestion. "Such
is our own hope. As the Lady Harkonnen has so delicately
demonstrated, minor matters may be blown out of proportion when the
many become involved in the business of the few. And as you have been
so kind as to demonstrate as well, it takes the intentions of the few
to sort it out again. Our thanks."

Raschid chuckles into his glass as he lifts it to his lips

On the dance floor, Tat'iana navigates a set of steps before saying
anything further, her eyes traveling over to the Harkonnen tables in
the briefest of glances. "Lady Harkonnen has always delighted in
stirring trouble, m'Lord. I saw her intent as soon as she approached."

Sen leans over and pours another glass for her Baron.

Ulricke looks up and over, indicating to a servant - she is promptly
brought wine.

On the dance floor, Ruhail replies almost immediately. "So much the
wiser you are, then, m'Lady Rastanyev. Your brother must benefit from
your advice often, correct?" He spins Tat'iana lightly at a pause in
the percussion beat.

Raschid looks thoughtful for a moment..

On the dance floor, Tat'iana moves through the spin easily. With a
small bite at her lower lip, she hesitates a moment, pondering her
response. "Ehrm... I wouldn't say it is 'often', m'Lord. I am loathe
to tell him how to run his House, as he is the one bearing the title.
I offer what observations I may, to assist him in his decisions, from
time to time. That is all. I often think he has little need of me."

Malia is once again attempting to drink from a bowl, held this time
by Fahahd, and seems in quite the hurry.

The Harkonnen chatter with dark humor amongst themselves in their own
tongue- deriding the objects of their hatred, making unkind innuendo,
humiliating their slaves, and generally doing what they do best.

On the dance floor, Ruhail's eyebrow is raised at your hesitant
response and subsequent admission. "Interesting, m'Lady. I find it
hard to believe that any Siridar would have little need for such sage
advice, no matter the extent of their holdings or their numbers of
ministers."

Cabal stands and leaves the table.

Boris climbs the stairs to the balcony.

Boris has left.

On the dance floor, Tat'iana frowns slightly, then shrugs her
shoulders. "He made it known to me, during this incident over Arra,
how little he thought of me or my skills. I seek to make myself
useful, but not overly noticeable to him."

Cabal leaves the table and walks with a near shuffle toward the
orchestra. He speaks briefly with the conductor, wearing an even
expression as he does so, and they shake hands before Cabal returns
to the Harkonnen table.

Ulricke watches curiously as Cabal heads over to the orchestra. Her
gaze is inquiring when he makes his way back.

Cabal sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Sen rises and floats up the staircase with etherial grace.

Sen climbs the stairs to the balcony.

Sen has left.

Boris comes down the wide marble staircase.

Boris has arrived.

Boris sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

On the dance floor, Ruhail manages to sneak a shrug into the
movements of his dance. "The Earl's decisions are his own. But your
council would be valued in our own Household, should you wish to join
us on retainer at any point. I am sure a brief exchange of personnel
could be arranged..."

Sen comes down the wide marble staircase.

Sen has arrived.

Sen returns shortly after the Baron.

Sen sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

The tune of the dance begins drifting, subtly at first, then more
directly as it transforms into something that bears little
resemblance to propriety. The notes swell in rapid succession, rising
and falling in multiple crescendos, and it quickly becomes obvious to
both the dancers and the spectators that this is distinctly a
Harkonnen tune, and one of the Baron's favorites for those that know
His tastes.

On the dance floor, Ruhail leans close to you and whispers, "Hold for
a moment. We must give our friends a show."

On the dance floor, Ruhail and Tat'iana slowly glide to a halt on the
dance floor. The Sultan's expression is bemused as he leans close and
continues to whisper in Tat'iana's ear.

Jihat nods and laughs, "It's fine with me, m'Lady." His gaze moves to
Raschis, questioningly.

Ruhail whispers, "M'lady...have you any training in the musical arts?
Singing, perhaps?"

Boris grins and hoots his approval at Cabal and the
orchestra. "Splendid music! 'The Forest of Harko!' Let's see them
dance to that, eh?"

Tat'iana nods to the Sultan's whisper, with a murmur of her
own. "Some.... yes..."

The Harkonnens laugh and murmur to eachother bemusedly, flashing
white teeth in predatory smiles.

Jihat takes another slow sip of his drink, smiling.

Malia glances towards the dancefloor for a very short moment, uneasy
with things, but quickly returns her attention to finishing that bowl
of wine.

On the dance floor, Ruhail leans forward yet again. "Then we shall
make a scene. 'Phoenix Arisen,' in 3/4 time."

Sylvie gets up from the table and downs the rest of her wine as she
waits for her table companions to stand, as well.

Sylvie stands and leaves the table.

Raschid stands and leaves the table.

On the dance floor, Ruhail pauses and begins to tap his foot against
the marble in a rhythm quite contrary to what the orchestra is
playing. It is not loud or annoying; indeed, it's sound would appear
only to reach he and his dance partner.

Jihat stands and leaves the table.

Sylvie turns to address those at the Harkonnen table, "We're going
into the hall of mirrors."

Fahahd lifts his head, turning away from Malia to look enquiringly at
Sylvie.

Anakiel finally does look up, expression somewhat confused.

Sen holds up a hand to Cabal to give him pause.

Tat'iana laughs out loud, their dancing pausing for a moment.
Quietly, she hums a contrasting melody, as they begin their steps
once more, a bit different than the music might call for. After
humming a few bars, she begins to sing aloud the lyrics...

It might be recognized as a song... Phoenix Rising.

Boris brats a rude noise. "Turnips rising is more like it!" he jeers.

Malia stands silently from the Harkonnen table, and without a word
turns in the direction of the door out of the ballroom, preparing to
leave obviously.

Sylvie smiles, "We've got a bet going on who can find their way out
first." She turns once more to speak with Jihat and Raschid, "A
bottle of wine, right?"

Ruhail's baritone rumble seconds Tat'iana on the high parts. One
might be quite surprised to see a Sultan singing the Rastanyev
anthem...but the site appears to amuse the Sultan himself, who raises
his voice and smiles even more broadly as the pair continues. He
begins to dance with the Lady in the slow, regal march of the anthem,
and dancers from around the floor make room to keep from hitting the
oddly timed couple.

Raschid nods and bows slightly "Correct, Lady"

Fahahd moves to follow Sylvie, slowly.

Anakiel stands as well, silently gathering his cloak about him.

Boris tells Sylvie, "I'll throw in a thousand solaris, my lady, that
you emerge first."

Malia pauses for a moment as Sen speaks, her head falling forward
farther. She still doesn't answer, instead simply heading towards the
door. From the expression on her face, whatever she's going to do
does not sit well with her at all.

Malia passes through the door into the Ladies' Lounge.

Malia has left.

Sylvie glances from Boris to Raschid, "Can you match that bet,
Master?"

Raschid quirks an amused brow to the Lord Baron and bows slightly, "I
suspect I'd be a fool to wager against her, Lord Baron, but, we shall
see."

Raschid says, "I can, Lady."

Lena has disconnected.

Sylvie nods, "Then, let's begin..." She moves toward the mirrored
door, weaving through the crowd.

Jihat follows the Lady quietly.

Ignoring jeers and strange glances from the other dancers, Tat'iana
continues her singing of the anthem in a soft alto, laughing between
refrains.

Raschid moves to stride beside her, step for step.

Raschid passes through the mirrored door into the mirror maze.

Raschid has left.

Sylvie passes through the mirrored door into the mirror maze.

Sylvie has left.

Fahahd clearly doesn't intend to let Sylvie go here alone...trailing
along after her.

Fahahd passes through the mirrored door into the mirror maze.

Fahahd has left.

Jihat passes through the mirrored door into the mirror maze.

Jihat has left.

Anakiel trails along...

Anakiel passes through the mirrored door into the mirror maze.

Anakiel has left.

'The Forest of Harko' slowly draws to a close. Amidst bowing
partners
and clapping listeners, however, Tat'iana and Ruhail continue their
final refrain of "Phoenix Rising," though their guffaws and chuckles
makes it hard for them to do so. Just short of the last verse,
Tat'iana bursts into laughter, leaving Ruhail to conclude with, "And
shall ever...rise...again!" The pair bow to each other and then make
their way off of the floor, laughing good naturedly throughout.

Sylvie emerges from the hall of mirrors.

Sylvie has arrived.

Sylvie stands outside the hall of mirrors door, waiting for the
others.

Boris sees Sylvie emerge, and grins proudly. "D'you see? Did I not
tell you?"

You leave the dance floor.

Ruhail leaves the dance floor.

Sylvie waves at Boris and smiles triumphantly.

Jihat emerges from the hall of mirrors.

Jihat has arrived.

Raschid emerges from the hall of mirrors.

Raschid has arrived.

Sylvie is outside the door, waiting to greet the losers with a wicked
grin.

Raschid snorts as he spies Sylvia leaning against the door.

Tat'iana steps off the dancefloor, laughing, and pauses to whisper
something to the Sultan.

Raschid bows to the Lord Baron "I will deliver the funds tommorow
while delivering the Lady her wine, Lord Baron, if that is
acceptable?"

Jihat just smiles as he bows to the Lady Sylvie.

You whisper, "I thank you for your kind offer, m'Lord Sultan,
regarding my services. I will take it under consideration. Given that
Ulricke has positively been giving me daggered glares since we
entered the dancefloor, I advise an immediate departure. It seems
tonight's merriment must end... at least for me. It is time I left."
to Ruhail.

Fahahd emerges from the hall of mirrors.

Fahahd has arrived.

Anakiel emerges from the hall of mirrors.

Anakiel has arrived.

Ruhail chuckles at Tat'iana's comment and leans forward to add his
own remarks.

Anakiel finally shuffles out in Fahahd's wake... evidently unable to
find his way out alone.

Fahahd sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Fahahd returns, looking rather bedazzled.

Boris nods to Raschid. "I always collect my debts promptly, eh,
Master?" he chuckles, smugly. "Otherwise the Swordmaster will come
looking for you. " Tossing back the last of his wine, he gives an
appreciative belch and rises.

Ruhail whispers, "M'lady, we, too had best be off. Would you allow us
to escort you out?"

Sen glances briefly at Raschid. She looks as if she would.

Raschid laughs good naturedly at this comment "Perhaps a challenge
for some other time, Lord Baron? I always attend to my obligations."

Anakiel sits down at one of the tables on the raised patio.

Sylvie nods to Raschid and Jihat, "We should wager again on
something. That was fun."

Tat'iana nods her response to the Sultan, no words needed. She
gathers her skirts, glancing back towards the Harkonnen table for
just a moment. Her shoulders lift as a deep sigh escapes her, her
mask hiding any expression that might be visible on her face. She
turns back to the doors to the Lounges, and begins to make her way to
them.

Boris says, "Excellent, fellow, excellent! Now you'll all excuse me,
I've so many others to terrorize this evening, eh?"

Sen looks up at her Baron quizzically.

Sylvie hurries to the Baron's side, preparing to leave with him.

Raschid bows deeply to the Lord Baron and nods softly to Sen

Jihat leans into the wall, his arms crossed. He responds, "Indeed,
m'Lady."

Ruhail smiles at his entourage and speaks in low Amat to them. They
gather themselves and begin to follow the Sultan at a distance of
several paces as he proceeds to follow on the heels of the Lady
Rastanyev.

Anakiel seems to intend to leave with the Baron as well, though he
seems subdued even yet.

Boris mutters to Sen, "Look after... eh Sen?"

Sen ticks her fingers against her jaw. "Yes, My Baron."

Boris offers his elbow to Sylvie, with a laugh. "Shall we, my
treasure? We've much to discuss."

Ulricke rises and likewise excuses herself, silently encouraging
Cabal to join her on the ride home as she slips into the lounge.

Ulricke stands and leaves the table.

Ulricke passes through the door into the Ladies' Lounge.

Ulricke has left.

You pass through the door into the Ladies' Lounge.

Ladies' Lounge -- Revelers (Kaitain)

     Pale, beige walls are dotted with prints of red blossoms,
horses, and black dragonflies, all surrounding one large painting of
a graceful, black haired woman wearing pink and green robes playing a
baliset. Glowglobes are set high on the walls, casting a soft light
over the intimate room. The floor is covered with a white carpet
patterned with delicate gold dragonflies. A black lacquered pedestal
to the left of the entrance holds a golden mask in a glass case. The
mask is adorned with enamel flowers and leaves. The door that leads
to the ballroom is lacquered and embellished with gold rosettes and a
large bronze dragonfly.

     No men are allowed in this room and women in ball gowns of every
color, masked and unmasked, hold quiet tete-a-tetes in the shadowy
corners or rest and enjoy a glass of wine. Settees with white and
gold brocade are scattered about, interspersed with black lacquered
tables and potted bamboo plants. One table holds a cheops game board
and another has crystal wine decanters on a silver tray beside
delicate goblets. The air is scented with rose perfume and the soft
melody of classical music fills the room.

                    <There are places here. +places/help.>

Players:

 Ulricke

Exits:

 Ballroom <BR> leads to Ballroom -- Revelers (Kaitain)

 Polished Metal Door <O> leads to Main Entrance -- Revelers (Kaitain)

Sen comes in from the ballroom.

Sen has arrived.

Removing her mask, Tat'iana makes her way through the lounge, to the
doors out, not knowing she is followed.

Sylvie comes in from the ballroom.

Sylvie has arrived.

Sen follows Ulricke attentively, eyeing Tat'iana warily just in case
Ulricke should take it on herself to slit her belly.

Sylvie passes through the polished metal door into the main lobby and
the door slides shut behind her.

Sylvie has left.

Ulricke lifts her mask, walking to the mirror and casually checking
her make-up. A terribly pleasant smile is on her face. She looks over
at the woman. "Well, Anya." she says without preamble. "I would have
thought our friendship was important to you, but apparently you're as
two-faced as the Imperium likes to claim we Harkonnen are. Perhaps
it's that you think that now that you're to become Empress, such
trivial things like our friendship are no longer important or valid."

The Swordmaster's wings flex and stretch, limbering, as she stands a
few paces away from Ulricke, little white hands hooked in her sword
belt.

Tat'iana pauses as she hears Ulricke speak, and turns carefully. "I
am sorry you cannot realize the enormity of the political faux pas
you placed yourself in, Ulricke," she says evenly, without
haughtiness or acidity. "What I did, I did to preserve you face, as
well as the Sultan. Dancing, with a Bajazet, with a claim before the
Landsraad for what happened between your houses? And as for the
singing, twas his idea. I'd no idea what he intended until I'd
already agreed. Again, I am sorry. I had to do it."

Ulricke looks at Tat'iana. "Don't presume to know why I do
things....or presume to know why I may or may not choose to perform
a 'faux pas'. Have I /ever/ done anything that was without intention,
dear, sweet Anya?" she walks over, leaning in so her lips graze the
Rastanyev's ear. "You betrayed me. Me, who have always been your
friend. But you think me foolish, and brutal and Harkonnen, my Anya,
do you not? So I give you a brutal Harkonnen promise. I /may/ forgive
you one day, I'm notoriously soft hearted, but right now, if I see
you within the Embassy walls..." and with that she leans in, and
places her lips on Tat'iana's cheek, giving her soft, disturbingly
erotic kiss on that soft skin, "I'll gut you while you're still
living and send your intestines to your brother as chandelier draping
decorations." The words are whispered with tender, almost loving
care, like a caress.

Sen rises on her toes, spreading her wings, and settles back down
onto her heels as she folds them tidily behind her back.

Tat'iana steps back immediately as soon as her surprise allows her.
Her eyes narrow slightly, as she stares back at Ulricke. Woodenly, in
a thin voice, she says, "Ulricke dear... there's something between
your teeth. You might want to take a look."

And without any further word, Anya turns to make her way out of the
lounge.

Ulricke laughs softly. "Goodbye, sweet friend." she drifts out as
well, humming softly to herself.

The door slides open silently and you pass through into the main
lobby.

Main Entrance -- Revelers (Kaitain)

     The walls of the small lobby sparkle with a river of stars
across a dark purple background. The room is full of shadows, the
only light shines from behind a wall-hanging shaped like a large
party mask in the center of the far wall, golden glowglobes gleam
through the eyes and reflects off the gold satin halo that trims the
edges of the mask in a wide ruffle dotted with golden stars. The
floor is covered by a plush carpet, the same shade of violet as the
walls and decorated with the outlines of tiny gold stars.

     There are wide doors left and right made of polished metal,
etched with similar mask designs as are on the front door and the
wall-hanging. There are no door knobs or fittings of any kind on
these doors, but they slide open silently when someone approaches,
men on the right, women on the left. A small table in the center of
the room, almost invisible in the dim light, holds a stack of
programs that detail upcoming events.

Players:

 Rhedek                                             Anakiel

 Fahahd                                             Cabal

 Ruhail

Exits:

 Polished Metal Door <GL> leads to Gentlemen's Lounge -- Revelers
(Kaitain)

 Polished Metal Door <LL> leads to Ladies' Lounge -- Revelers
(Kaitain)

 Double Doors <O> leads to Einrike Plaza -- Central District (Kaitain)

Ruhail looks up as Tat'iana appears. "Is everything alright, m'Lady?"

Ulricke emerges from the Ladies' Lounge.

Ulricke has arrived.

Tat'iana gives the Sultan the barest of nods, her face much paler
than usual. "I believe you offered an escort?"

        "Uah-ho!" A bellowing cry preceeds the thundering of the
doors - carven portals slung wide open by the force of a bearish
foot. With that kick the evening air swirls into the chamber, and
with it comes a tower of a man - and along with it the boisterous
aura of a thousand distant pavilions.

Sen emerges from the Ladies' Lounge.

Sen has arrived.

Raschid emerges from the Gentlemen's Lounge.

Raschid has arrived.

Ulricke walks out, humming softly to herself as she steps over to
Cabal and lets her hand rest on his arm. "Shall we?"

Sen pads along a few steps behind Ulricke, shoulders cocked forward
against the weight of her wings.

Raschid strides out and resumes his place at Tat'iana's side.

Fahahd's gaze falls on the ladies as they emerge, a gleam of
curiosity in the green eyes....before he pivots swiftly to face
Rhedek. the green eyes widen as he catches sight of the Colonel.
Goodness...

Anakiel waits patiently by the Hark guardsman's side, holding his
mask of ink-blue feather and polished black leather. The sudden crash
of the doors flying open makes him jump... one might almost expect
him to land in the poor guard's arms. Jumpy youth.

Cabal grins privately to himself as he imagines what mischief Ulricke
was up to and becomes certain that his imagination falls short
somehow. He looks to her contentedly and affirms, "Yes, we shall."
And he leads her out of the plaza.

Ruhail inclines his head, somewhat startled by the explosive entrance
of the foyer's latest occupant. "Indeed, Lady Rastanyev. Shall we?"
He pauses from moving, however, waiting for some of the more
boisterous revelers to exit first.

Ulricke passes through the double doors into the plaza and the doors
slide shut behind her.

Ulricke has left.

Cabal passes through the double doors into the plaza and the doors
slide shut behind him.

Cabal has left.

Tat'iana manages another nod, her jaw clamped firmly shut. She
doesn't even notice the Mentat's presence at her elbow.

Sen passes through the double doors into the plaza and the doors
slide shut behind her.

Sen has left.

Fahahd slips out after the Harkonnen couple, though he does flash an
impish grin at the Colonel in passing.

Fahahd passes through the double doors into the plaza and the doors
slide shut behind him.

Fahahd has left.

Ruhail's eyes curiously look Tat'iana over, but he merely turns and
procedes outwards.

Ruhail passes through the double doors into the plaza and the doors
slide shut behind him.

Ruhail has left.

        He bears but a half-mask, red silk bound about his face and
knotted into trailing pennants kicked into motion by the violence of
his entrance; over his shoulder the mountain of mirth beras a great
brass urn held just-so by his meaty shoulder. Tongues of wine splash
from the thing, and down the

The doors slide open silently as you pass through into the plaza.

------------------------

Bajazet Limousine

The vehicle has been appointed with every luxury that can be
installed and still provide seating for six with room to spare. Two
sets of three seats face each other across a small, solid mahogany
table. The sides of the table have recessed handles for access to the
compartments within. A circular light over the table bathes the
inside of the limousine in a soft light.

(For help see 'vhelp')

Ruhail has arrived.

Ruhail says something to the driver who nods.

There is a sense of acceleration as the limousine picks up speed.

Ruhail speaks to the driver.

Over your communicator's secure frequency, a man's voice
says, "Message from vehicle 2949, bound for Rastanyev Embassy,
requesting clearance, "The Sultan Bajazet escorts the Lady Tat'iana
Rastanyev back to her Embassy.""

The driver turns to the passenger area, "Clearance has been granted."

That vehicle has already been cleared.

Over your communicator's secure frequency, a man's voice
says, "Clearance has been granted for vehicle 2949, bound for the
Rastanyev Embassy, by Satyavrat."

Numerous vehicles can be seen darting through the avenues.

As she settles into the seat, Tat'iana's hand lifts to her cheek, and
she shudders visibly.

Lights from the numerous buildings and walkways outline the roadway.

Numerous vehicles can be seen darting through the avenues.

Ruhail turns back to Tat'iana. "M'lady. We could not help but notice
that you and the Lady Ulricke were detained in the Ladies' Lounge
for...quite a while. May we enquire as to the goings on?" The
question is posed in complete chivalry. It is clear that both
curiosty and concern motivate it.

The limousine decelerates steadily and comes to a smooth stop.

says something to the driver.

Tat'iana swallows against the lump in her throat. When she speaks,
there is a slight tremble to her voice, and she lets her hand fall
back to her lap. "She had a few words for me... and a threat or two."

Ruhail's brow furrows and his voice falls into a low rumble,
reminiscent of rain clouds on an early evening. "It is not our place
to inquire as to the nature of these threats, m'Lady. But I would
urge you to speak with your Brother at the first possible convenience
as to their nature, or your Master of Assassins at the very least."
His fingers find purchase on the limousine's door, and he taps an
angry rhythm out there. "The record of their travesties is being
kept, however. This we assure you."

Tat'iana nods, supressing a sniffle. "They have become friendly with
the Venhei. It does not surprise me. The houses are dividing along
clearer lines, I see." She looks up then, realizing the car has
stopped. "My thanks, for the escort home, m'Lord Sultan. Perhaps when
next I visit Star, it might be a more happy occasion for us to speak."

Ruhail nods his head. "Our own wishes are the same, m'Lady. And
consider my offer." A lackey opens the door for you, revealing the
greenery of the Rastanyev Courtyard. "Good evening."

Tat'iana nods her head, murmuring her own farewell, as she gathers
her skirts and steps out of the car.


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