Her Majesty's Salon

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

A fun event! Keep your eyes peeled for future little shindigs!

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Logfile from DuneIII-Tat'iana.
Where the Great Houses vie for power in the Padishah Imperium....

Celestial Hall -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)

 One of the greatest feats of architecture in the Known Universe, the Celestial
Hall is a fitting audience chamber for the man who holds sway over millions of
worlds, or even the woman who holds sway over his heart. Walls, ceiling,
floor -- all are covered in the lustrous blue of lapis lazuli, the deep blue and
twinkling flecks of gold seemingly wrought from the heavens itself. Into the
walls and ceiling have been placed hundreds of thousands of gemstones of
uncountable shades and colours, each gem chosen to reflect the physical
appearance of a world from the vantage point of space. Behind these miniature
worlds, lights have been meticulously hidden, illuminating them and shining
through the room in every shade and colour of the spectrum.

 In the center of the ceiling, a glowglobe disk shines a golden light down upon
a dais of white marble. The dais supports two brilliant thrones. Upon this dais
would be seated the Emperor and Empress, to receive what petitioners may seek
their audience and ear. Those petitioners might find purchase on smaller chairs
and benches artfully engraved with stars and other constellations. Indeed, this
room echoes the political role of Kaitain as the centre of the Universe, the
spokes of its myriad worlds and their noble Houses radiating from the glittering
origin of Kaitain itself, and the man and woman who rule over it all.

Exits:

 Lapis Lazuli Staircase <D> leads to Eastern Wing -- Imperial Palace (Kaitain)

Maximillian ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Maximillian has arrived.

Adrian ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Adrian has arrived.

Emylie ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Emylie has arrived.

Adrian mills about in the Celestial Hall, the Caid of Kaitain found
inauspiciously and idly picking at one of the gemstones set into the lapis lazul
i walls, the dingy brown-purple of Reshul V, prized by noblewomen everywhere for
the restorative effects of its mud.

Maximillian slips inside the hall, two Noukkers quietly a step behind him. He
stands for a moment, looking at the two great thrones, relflecting quietly.

Several of Her Majesty's Ladies-In-Waiting burst into the room in a flurry of
colorful skirts. They are chattering away like bluejays on a bright spring
morning. Lady Elaine Fairchild leads the pack arm and arm with Lady Emylie
Fenring. The two have their heads together and are deep in some delicious bit of
gossip. Following behind are the Ladies Genoa and Henrietta. Espying the Caid,
Henriette, pinches Lady Madeline al-Haight who squeals loudly in response,
slapping at Henriette's hand. Lady Genoa grabs Madeline's arm just so as the
quintet promenades past the Caid. Madeline is swung around and deposited
directly in front of the Caid. Without remourse, the Ladies-In-Waiting parade
past the Caid, leaving Madeline stranded before the man. She looks about wildly
and finally opts for a simple curtsy and a bright, coquettishly smile.

Adrian flashes a broad and not entirely wholesome smile for the good Lady,
offering a flourished and artful bow. "Hello again, m'lady al-Haight. Tell me,
does that bruise you just received require any salving?" he teases with a wink.

Madeline nods, angling her arm towards the Caid. "Quite," she replies glumly.
"That cow simply has no manners." She had raised her voice, emphasizing the word
'cow'. Behind the Caid's back, Henriette makes a face at her. Lady Genoa,
looking across the room at the new man, leans over to whisper to Elaine and
Emylie. Emylie whispers back. Genoa nods, turning back to whisper to Henrietta.
her eyes on the new arrival the whole time.

Maximillian, noticing the attention focused on him by the crowd of nattering
young women, smiles and makes a short bow towards them. He walks forward,
Noukkers remaining quietly by the door. Easy grin still on his face, he queries,
"Good afternoon, my ladies. I could not but help noticing the whispers and
subtle glances directed my way." Some humor enters his voice; the next is not
meant to be critical, clearly. "Am I an object of some private amusement?"

Adrian takes the lady-in-waiting's hand and, never one to keep a lady waiting
for long, bends to bestow upon it a courtly kiss. As he rises and re-appraises
the young lady, his smile turns wry in humor. "I understand Lady Fenring is
going to be marrying a Harkonnen? And not just any Harkonnen, but the Earl of
Skye, no less. I knew those base-born, marmoset-munching sybarites liked them
young, but at least they had the decency to wait until she was into her
majority, hrmm?"

Yvgenie ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Yvgenie has arrived.

Madeline awards the Caid a triumphant smile, stepping closer to him, close
enough he might smell her lilac scent -- imported from Ecaz, no less. At the
mention of Emylie though, she looks slightly disappointed. "Ahh, yes," she
replies. "Though Emylie professes to know naught about it and insists she care
not a jot for the Earl." She looks pointedly at the Caid. "I am not engaged,"
she says.

Meanwhile, across the room, Emylie steps reluctantly forward, curtsying before
the Lord Constable. "My Lord, the Ladies Elaine, Genoa and Henrietta. My Ladies,
this is the Count Corrino, he's the new Lord Constable." She ends the
introduction with a bright grin. "He works with My Lord Pavel."

Adrian casually reaches round the Lady Madeline to pinch in the same place Lady
Genoa had just prodded. "More's the pity, then," he jests with a light-hearted
chuckle. "And tell me, m'lady. If your lady doesn't care for the Earl, then who
does she care for?"

Maximillian inclines his head. "A pleasure, ladies all, and my lady Fenring, I
am glad to see you in brighter spirits than our last encounter." He pauses for a
moment; ah, the spirit of the room seems bright, and excessive staid formality
can, thankfully, be forgone. "You haven't answered my question, though, my
ladies. What private amusement do I provide?" A grin tugs slighly at the corners
of his mouth, and there is some small twinkle in his eyes.

Yvgenie slips up the stairs quietly, hand on the railing. He looks graver than
is his wont.

Lady Genoa runs her eyes up and down the Lord Constable's figure, sizing him up.
"I'm afraid you are mistaken, My dear Count Corrino. We were most decidedly
unamused." She runs her tongue along her teeth.

Maximillian raises an eyebrow at that. "Indeed. If I might be so bold as to
inquire, Lady Genoa - why?" His tone, while still holding a hint of amusement,
carries now a slight edge. This was not the expected response, and Maximillian
is not sure if he likes the direction of the Lady Genoa's comments.

Lady Genoa pulls Emylie to her. Emylie frowns disapproving at the woman. Genoa
frowns. "We are unamused because our beloved Emylie is unhappy." At this Elaine
and Henrietta also frown, wilting into each other's arms. Genoa continues. "When
one of us is sad, we are all sad." She sighs dramatically. "Thus is the nature
of our communal life." She nods knowingly. "You know how it is."

Maximillian raises an eyebrow. This vaudeville act becomes more apparent. It is
no hurt to play it, however. His attention shifts to Emyle. "My lady Fenring; I
suppose then I must go to you." He does not repeat the question; the reason for
his shift of focus should be clear.

The stamp of booted feet on the stairs announce the approach of a larger group
of Noukkers, and moments later they emerge over the final stair. In the center
of their formation, the Empress, gowned as formally as is her usual state when
appearing in the more public aread of the Palace. Audiences in the Celestial
Hall are becoming commonplace, it seems, as her schedule returns to normal. As
they breach the elegant and favored hall, they fan out of their formation and a
footman lifts his chin for his announcement.

"Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Tat'iana Rastanyev-Corrino."

Emylie shrugs off the Lady Genoa, standing upright on her her own two feet. "My
friends are sad for me," she begins but is cut short by the entrance of the
Empress. As a collective whole all four Ladies-in-Waiting dip into identical
curtsies, sinking low, their heads bowed respectfully. Across the room, Madeline
dips into her own, straight-backed curtsy, resting a hand upon the arm of the
Caid.

Yvgenie bows low, with the same boneless quality his pet mink has.

Martin ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Martin has arrived.

Maximillian turns at the footman's announcement to bow formally, hand on heart.
As always, his movements show his deep respect for the Imperial family.

Adrian dips into an obsequious bow at the entrance of the Empress, his smile
steeled somewhat in the presence of royalty. With Erich, his old barracks mate,
he is certain he could get away with a degree of raucousness. With his Empress,
however, is another story, and he is cautious not to test the waters too soon.

Deep within the curtsy, Madeline cries out in pain. She rubs her arm, rising
quickly. Glaring at the Caid, she rebukes him, coldly. "Why everyone knows Lady
Emylie has eyes for no man but the Lord Justiciar. Not even Your Lordship could
dissuade her." And with that, Madeline turns her back on the Caid, taking a few
hestitant steps towards the bevy of Ladies, but clearly expecting to be called
back by Adrian.

Tat'iana paces forward at a slow, deliberately measured gait. The Ladies in
Waiting receive a nod from her as she passes them, but they are the only ones so
graced. The dais is gained, after what seems forever possibly, and she turns in
front of her throne - the smaller, mirror-image of the larger one - waiting a
moment while her train is straightened by one of the girls attending near
Emylie. Still moving at what seems a slow pace, she gracefully eases herself
down to perch on the throne's seat, her grey eyes surveying the hall.

"Who is the first with business for our consideration?" she asks, her voice
quiet but still pitched to carry appropriately in the intimate gathering.

Yvgenie clears his throat, hesitantly, as if wary of attraching Imperial notice.

Adrian frowns at the Lady al-Haight, muttering something under his breath about
women with social diseases. "And a good evening to you as well, m'lady," he
suggests, making no move whatsoever to bid her return to his side. "We shall see
what we shall see." And with that he straightens himself and looks onward at the
Empress' court, looking over the supplicants gathered.

Martin walks into the hall, moving slowly quietly. His eyes scan the room. He
bows to the Empress before moving off towards the corner to observe. His eyes
watching everyone carefully.

Mintor ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Mintor has arrived.

Sisay ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Sisay has arrived.

Having taken her few steps and not been apologized, Madeline spares a surprised
glances over her shoulder at Adrian. Seeing he is not interested, she sniffs,
lifting her chin haughtily and stalks across the room, rejoining the other four
Ladies-in-Waiting. For their part, the ladies have grown quieter as court
begins. They whisper softly, but make token gestures at paying attention. As
Madeline rejoins them, Lady Genoa looks over her shoulder at the Caid, smiling
comely.

Sisay, dessed quite unformally with a couple of books under her arm, arrives
walking close by Lord Mintor. She looks quite surprised by the many people
gathered and stops at the end of the staircase, hiding partially behind him.

A liveried servant, apparently the Seneschal by his formal, crisp uniform, steps
forward with chest puffed out. "Your most delectable Majesty, Lord Yvgenie von
Ritter, na-Viscount of Vingulf, Imperial Hunt Master and Keeper of the Imperial
Mews, has a matter for your ear." He turns, lifting his shoulders as he inhales
deeply and calls out, "Will the Lord Yvgenie von Ritter, na-Viscount of Vingulf,
Imperial Hunt Master and Keeper of the Imperial Mews, please step forward?"

Martin walks into the room, slowly. His eyes takes a moment to look about before
bowing to the Empress. He moves off towards a corner, where he stands casually
watching the events and everyone present.

Adrian settles to one side of the chamber, arms clasped behind his back, the
Caid rocking slightly upon booted heels as he watches the proceedings begin.

Glancing across the room, Henriette slowly detaches from the group and drifts
towards the Atreides Lord.

Yvgenie obediently glides forward, to make the appropriate bow before Tat'iana.
He glances up at her, waiting for permission to speak.

Mintor walks in with Sisay in tow.. they're try to remain quiet.. He's not quite
sure where to go and nods in appreciation to the Lady that approaches..

Maximillian moves quietly near Adrian, arms comfortably at his sides.

Tat'iana watches the Huntmaster, her eyes flicking ever so briefly to the top of
the staircase as she sees more people enter out of the corner of her eye. But
Yvgenie holds her attention, and she gives him a warm smile and small nod.
"M'lord... please, we will hear you. Do speak as you will."

Yvgenie rises, to proffer a rolled scroll. "MErely a proposal for the ordering
of the hunt and feast your Majesty suggested, to be scanned for approval," he
notes, gently.

Having arrived before the Atreides, Henriette drops a curtsy, her eyes running
up and down his female companion. She smiles, her plump face rosy and dimpled.
"Good My Lord, Lady," she says by way of greeting, her voice low and soft in
respect for the official formalities.

Quietly, the Ginaz Lady follows Mintor, trying to hde herself from view,
especially from the Empress and the other officials. I'm in no condition of
appearing in front of anybody dressed like this, she would think. As the lady
curtseys before Mintor, she responds with an equally graceful curtsey of her
own. Yet she remains silent.

A Noukker steps forward, taking the scroll into his own hand before turning to
the Empress with it. Tat'iana lifts a hand, waiting silently for it to be
delivered to her, before saying anything further. As the paper finally reaches
her hand, she unrolls it and scans the page quickly.

Leaning over Emylie whispers softly to Elaine, "Hunt.. .. beasts.. .. eat.. ..
.... .... .. poor rabbits." Elaine smiles sweetly, patting Emylie's hand and
whispering back. ".. ... Vingulf .. .. .... rabbits .... .... mink ... Majesty
... ... babies."

IT's a faitly traditional hunt and feast combination - nothing unusual. Yv waits
patiently, hands arranged before him in an nearly priestlike pose.

Adrick ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Adrick has arrived.

Tat'iana nods slowly as she finishes the last of the page, a smile rising to her
lips. "Excellent, m'lord. Invitations should be sent out, I would imagine... but
not before those promised lessons, hmm? What say you?"

Yvgenie bows again, his queue flicking over his shoulder as he moves. "Of
course, Majesty."

Separating from the group of Ladies-in-Waiting, Emylie crosses the room, inching
towards the Lord Rinaldi. She smiles shyly, uncertainly.

"We thank you, m'lord. In the morning, bright and early, we shall seek you out
at the stables," Tat'iana says with no small amount of cheer in her voice.
Compared to her last public appearance, at Court so many weeks ago now, she
actually truly looks alive and has real color in her cheeks. She glances to the
Seneschal, giving him a small nod, a signal to call the next petitioner.

Yvgenie bows yet again, before withdrawing.

Yvgenie slips back into the crowd of courtiers, before makign his exit.

Maximillian looks to Adrian, standing next to him. Murmuring, he says, "You are
the Caid of Kaitan, I presume?"

Adrian smiles faintly to the Lord Constable and nods. "I am, yes. Baron Adrian
bin-Alman Corrino, and pleased to make your acquaintance."

Yvgenie descends the lapis lazuli staircase to the eastern wing.
Yvgenie has left.

Fahahd ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Fahahd has arrived.

A little man enters and offers a gracefull bow after a breif glance at the
Empress. With a stoic expression, Adrick stands near the door, carefully
observing.

Maximillian nods in return. "As am I, my Baron-cousin." He glances towards the
dais. "The Empress seems exceptionally well."

Adrian nods in agreement. "She is as resplendent as ever, no small miracle
concerning all she has been through," he agrees in hushed tones.

Isabella ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Isabella has arrived.

Mintor looks around, and finds an empty place to take up while watching.. he
leans towards Sisay..

Mintor mutters to Sisay, "... there... why... are..."

The Seneschal takes the clear signal, and steps forth once more. "Your most
succulent, delightful Majesty... there is business from the Caid. Allow me to
summon him for you." And with that, as before, he turns to the small crowd,
"Baron Adrian bin-Alman Corrino, Caid of Kaitain, do step forward please..."

Adrian detaches himself from the Constable with a parting nod before taking a
moment to aright his tunic, walking forward to stand the requisite steps from
the Empress' throne, bowing with a flourishing arm, awaiting recognition with a
pleasant and polite smile.

The new Earl-to-be slips in late, and as quietly as he can, taking up his place
among the gathered courtiers.

Martin returns the smile to her, looking to her momentarily before looking to
the court. His place in the corner gives a rather nice view of the events.

Isabella enters quietly eyes surveying the group that has gathered here. Seeing
her counterpart from her embassy in the corner she tries to slip over to him as
softly as possible.

Maximillian glances after Adrian as he walks up to the dais with some interest.

Slade ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Slade has arrived.

Tat'iana surveys the tall form of the Caid with a small smile, though her eyes
are studying him intently. "We are charmed to meet your acquaintance, m'lord
Baron. Please, state your request..."

Emboldened by the Lord's smile, Emylie nods bobbing a quick curtsy in return.
"Lord Rinaldi," she says amiably. "It's been quite a while. I do hope you
enjoyed your extensive trip?"

Henrietta smiles winsomely at Mintor. "Good, My Lord," she says curtsying.

Lady Genoa leans over whispering to Madeline. Whatever is said isn't heard, but
it's enough to make Lady Madeline flush crimson. Lady Elaine Fairchilde gives
them both a sharp look.

Behold from lower levels of the Majestic Palace does the Hegemon emerge like a
great dragon from times of long ago. The Supreme Commander of the Imperial
Forces make his way fully into the chamber. A stoic creature that stories tell
lacks any link to humanity. Pausing for a mere momment in time, Slade looks over
the room before proceeding.

Martin looks to approaching Lady Gambacorta and nods to her. He speaks quietly
to her before moves closer to Lady Finring and speaking softly to her.

Adrian levels his most shining smile for the Empress, straightening into that
perfect, ramrod Sardaukar posture only honed from too many kicks in the arse
from superior officers and too many nights sleeping on the rocks of Salusa
Secundus with either the lizards or overly-friendly barracks-mates to fend off.
"Your Majesty," he submits humbly, "I have a rather irregular petition to bring
before you. Having heard ... rumours of your entourage's apparent freedom to
engage in romantic entanglements, I would, in the most chaste and reverent of
terms, ask you for permission and freedom to pursue a relationship with one of
your ladies in waiting." He takes a moment to look over that colorful crew, a
warm grin granted to the Ladies Genoa (woof), Henrietta (woof), and Elaine
(mrrowr), before looking once more to the Empress, expectantly. "I realize the
busy schedule your ladies must keep in attending to the needs of the Imperial
Creche, nor would I presume to ever distract them from that duty. Should Your
Majesty deem my request impropriteous at the moment, I would fully understand."

Mintor sighs and leans in towards Sisay..

Mintor mutters to Sisay, "I'll... to keep... mind... in... dear.."

Fahahd just blinks once at this request. So, that perennial rumor about the
Sardaukar and the gelding isn't true. Other than that, he seems to simply wait
his turn with a curious unawareness of the others in the room, as if the mass of
hangers-on simply didn't exist.

Isabella smiles quietly at Lord Rinaldi before turning her attention to the man
speaking before the throne. Her fingers entwine absently behind her back as she
watches events unfold.

Tat'iana arches a brow slowly upwards as she listens, her level gaze noting the
direction of his gaze. She resists, however, the urge to bristle with maternal
protection, instead, smoothly and slowly dipping her head in a single nod.
"Yes... and we presume you have one specific Lady in mind....? Or do you mean to
tell us, m'lord, that you've the stamina to Court them all, completely within
the bounds of propriety?"

Sisay leans over to her fiancee but she talks a little louder than the wanted:
"The most improbable things happen at the most probable times, my dearest..."
and she shrugs innocently. With the corner of her eye she notices somebody she
knows... She turns, still safely anchored at Mintor's arm and waves towards
Fahahd.

Adrian coughs faintly and shakes his head most emphatically. "Not in the
slightest, Your Most Radiant Majesty. It would not be an entirely unpleasant
prospect, given the peerless beauty and matchless candor of your retinue. I do
have a special one in mind, actually, but before I dare direct anything in a
direction other than mere friendship and comraderie in common service to Crown
and Imperium, I would crave your permission."

For all his apparent obliviousness, Fahd doesn't miss the gesture, and offers
Sisay the tiniiest of waves in return, as well as a smile.

At the statement from the Caid, the Ladies-in-Waiting, from their spots across
the room, all collectively inhale and pause, listening. Their eyes of course,
all stray to the Lady Madeline al-Haight. She clutches Elaine's hand. They share
a conspiratorial grin. Henrietta attempts to hide her jealousy by batting her
eyelashes at Mintor.

The Hegemon makes his way to the left side of the Empress, turns sharply to face
the others of court, and stands solidly like a some horrible gothic statue.
Maybe with wings and he would be a gargoyle on some archaic church.

Tat'iana looks away from the man, studying each one of her Ladies in Waiting.
Madeline, too, is noted, as is the direction of the gazes of the other Ladies.
"Ahhhh," Tat'iana breathes quietly, nodding. Her grey eyes settle once more on
the Caid, amusement crinkling them at the corners. "I see. Well then, m'lord...
our permission you do have, indeed."

If Slade is a gargoyle, then Fahd is one of the saints in the alcoves below.
There's still that quiet to him, as if meditating on matters very far from the
bustle of the court.

Adrian turns to take in the reactions of the Ladies-in-Waiting, offering a wink
... not to any of the usual suspects, but to Emylie herself. "Ah, good. The
stories I've heard regarding the Lady Fenring of late rather neccessitate I take
matters into my own hands, hrmm?" he inquires rhetorically, and exactly what
matters he's talking about he leaves unsaid. Looking back to the Empress, he
offers a short bow. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Your permission opens all sorts of
doors, and I am quite eager to get my foot in before they close."

Martin arches a brow as he watches the Caid. He looks to the Empress, curious
how she will handle be trick by the man. He momentarily whispers to Lady
Isabella.

Lady Madeline sputters and, in fact, all the Ladies-in-Waiting look rather
dumbfounded. "Me?" Emylie mouths in silence, taking a step backwards. She looks
around suddenly conscious of all the eyes on her. She blushes.

Maximillian raises a single eyebrow as he focuses on Emylie.

Tat'iana's expression, contrary to what might be expected, remains pleasant and
unconcerned over the possible 'trick'. "But of course, m'lord. Just see that you
don't stick your foot into the wrong door... or too far into the correct one.
Matters such as this are indeed delicate." As before, a small nod is given to
the Seneschal.

Isabella leans toward Martin as he speaks softly, eyes yet upon the throne. She
nods silently. Straightening her gaze follows to the woman who seems to take
this news with surprise.

From that place where he stands, the Hegemon keeps an eye on the Caid. Nothing
is said or signalled but perhaps there is some meaning exchange that
non-Sardaukar could no pick up on.

Adrian mutters as he steps away, "Never fear, I am most attached to my foot."
That concern apparently foresaken for the moment, he strides confidently towards
the Lady Fenring and offers his arm. "Yes, you," he assures with a wink. "Is
that such an awful prospect?"

With a click of his shiny bootheels, the Seneschal hops forward and bows. "Your
most scrumptious Majesty, the Earl of Skaya wishes a word..." The
vertically-challenged fellow turns, lifting his voice to the rest of the room,
"Lord Fahahd Alaurans, Earl of Skaya, please come forth!"

Sisay smiles as she watches the proceedings from the background. Only now she
sees Isabella and Martin, and studies them for a while before fixing her gaze
back towards the throne, the Empress and Emylie.

Flustered, Emylie nods repeatedly at the Lord Rinaldi and Lady Isabella. She
curtsies quickly. Darting across the courtroom, she attempts to reach the safe
haven of the Ladies-in-Waiting. However, she is intercepted by the Caid.
Helplessly cut off, she looks up at him, stammering, "I-I-I. Oh. Ahh. My-My Lord
Baron." She places her hand on his arm, doing her best to ignore the looks of
ice coming from the Lady Madeline.

Adrian cannot help but laugh and leans in to whisper something to Emylie.

Adrian mutters to Emylie, "... if your... you... but... we?"

Maximillian registers some internal amusement.

Fahahd steps up, bearing a small box on his hand, as he bows before the throne.
"Majesty."

Slade clears his throat. "Caid, save it till after court."

Emylie mutters to Adrian, "..."

Isabella watches the Lady Fenring's discomfiture with some sympathy alighting in
her grey eyes before turning back toward the throne and the figure currently
being presented. She raises a brow, and watches him approach with the small box.

Tat'iana casts a questioning glance to Slade, having not noticed the quiet
conversation going on. Such things do, of course, happen on the periphery of the
room. With a small frown, and purse of her lips at the Hegemon, she holds her
pointed gaze on him a moment longer before looking back to the Harkonnen.
"M'lord," she says softly, nodding to him. "It is indeed a pleasure to our eyes
to see you before us. Please... do speak your mind. We are exceedingly curious
as to your thoughts."

Adrian looks over at the Hegemon with a slight frown, but says nothing, merely
patting the flustered (and rightly so, given his cheeky performance) Lady
Fenring upon her hand.

Whispering loudly to Lady Genoa, Lady al-Haight spitefully suggests, "That
base-born Earl -- He's probably come to ask for Emylie too. That cow." Elaine
hisses at her and she lowers her voice but continues to whisper to Genoa.

The Harkonnen doesn't flinch at the all too clear whisper, but merely notes, in
his still accented Galach, "I would simply ask permission to offer a gift to
Your Majesty," He proffers the box, as he speaks.

Maximillian keeps one eye on the Empress and her supplicant, but seems mostly
focused on Emylie and Adrian.

Emylie keeps her eyes lowers, clearly shaken. Passively, she lets the Caid lead
her to the edge of the courtroom.

Emylie mutters to Adrian, "... apologize,... I shan't... interesting company...
this... quite a shock. I... I... thought..."

"And that is all you wish, m'lord?" Tat'iana asks, surprise crossing her face as
her brow lifts. "We are surprised by such a humble, sincere gesture, m'lord."
She lifts a hand, signalling one of the closer Noukkers, and the man steps
forward to accept the box. Security, of course, being high in the Palace.

Adrian remains quite attentive and calm, shaking his head at something which the
Lady Fenring says to him, replying in equally politely hushed tones.

Adrian mutters to Emylie, "... anything,... I... frightfully interesting...
and... told.... the... between... the conservatory,... when I... you... you...
the... much... take... has... you... a... don't... in... or woman...."

Fahahd passes it to the Noukker, who scans and snoops it, discreetly opening the
package to check its contents, before handing it on to the Empress. "Indeed,
that is all, Majesty," Fahd replies, for the firs time showing a touch of
diffidence. "Simply a token of my thanks, for your Majesty's generosity." Within
the box is simply a scarf, almost a veil, of some airily fine silken weave, dyed
in jewel like shades of deep blue fading to green.

The ogre of ill repute focuses now on the Harkonnen before him with solemn face.
The emotions of Sardaukar are so...lacking.

Sisay walks closer to where the action is, stopping a few meters to the side of
the Hegemon. She looks towards Fahahd and the Empress with curiosity.

Lifting her verdant eyes to the Caid, Emylie permits a faint smile to cross her
lips. "T-Thank you," she murmurs quietly. She then looks in the direction of the
throne, attempting, at least, to appear as though she is paying attention.

Isabella peers at the scarf as it is lifted from the box with curiosity. Both
brows raise in surprise as she takes in the scarf. Her eyes drift from the gift
to the man who presents it intently.

Adrian winks silently at Emyile then turns back to the Court proceedings.
Wouldn't do for either the Empress or the Hegemon to get irate. Wouldn't do at
all. Should be a pity were his foot cut off.

Fahahd is still again, waiting, but without any particular nervousness. Again,
there's that sense that he's not aware of anyone but Tat'iana.

Martin simplely nods at the Harkonnen Lord's gift. He speaks quietly to Lady
Isabella. His eyes continue to watches those present, momentarily falling on to
everyone one by one.

Galen ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Galen has arrived.

Lady Madeline elbows Lady Genoa. "Here it comes," she hisses. Genoa pats the
younger woman's arm. "It's not as though you'd want the Earl," she replies
calmly, patting the girl's arm "I know just the man for you, my dear." Placated,
Madeline smirks, her eyes scanning the Earl of Skaya scornfully.

Tat'iana eyes the scarf with open admiration, her smile broadening. "Such vivid
colors I have not seen in cloth in such a very long time. It's... exquisite,
m'lord. Thank you, so very much." And, in quite an unexpected, uncharacteristic
fashion, she raises a hand, offering it to Fahahd, palm down and fingers dipped
downwards in relaxation.

Maximillian's focus abruptly returns to the Empress and Fahahd. There is a sense
of quiet, vigilant interest.

Galen slips casually into the Hall, offering the prefuntory bow to the thrones
before blending into the gathering.

The Holy Death Sentinel of God tenses at the Empress's act. Hands to his sides
so near to his saber and other party favorites like the kindjal and kukri.

Fahahd pauses an instant, surprised by the gesture. But then he moves forward,
feet soundless on the flooring, and bends over the offered hand to brush his
lips over the air just a bare fraction of an inch above the Empress's skin.

"M'lord, we are immensely pleased beyond measure of the recognition you have
received of late. Our congratulations also go to you for the deservingly new
title bestowed upon you. Our favor does not rest upon your head without right
cause," Tat'iana smiles down at the Harkonnen, then carefully withdraws her hand
to rest it once more on her lap. The Seneschal is favored with a nod, and she
smiles once more at Fahahd.

Fahahd withdraws, humbly, after another murmur of his thanks. "Your Maesty is
too kind." THAt said, he betakes himself back to the fringe of the crowd.

The Spiritual Avenger continues to watch the Harkonnen.

As Fahahd departs without further word, the Ladies-in-Waiting exchange puzzled
looks. Jettisoning from the group, Henrietta trails after him, apparently on an
intelligence gathering mission.

Sisay approaches Fahahd from the side, in hope to exchange a few words with him.

Henrietta glares at Sisay as she got to Fahahd first. All the same, she simply
curtsies, eyes casting about for Mintor.

It's like watching a pair of sheepdogs close in on a hapless lamb. Fahd doesn't
even try to escape. Rather, he waits patiently, and bows in return to
Henrietta's greeting. "My ladies," he notes, favoring Sisay with an puckish grin
that takes about ten years off his age.

The Seneschal tromps forward, folding neatly in half at the waist. "Your
luscious, palatable Majesty... a Lady de Gambacorta is here to be presented."
Then, to the room, the man turns, "Lady Isabella de Gambacorta, do bring
yourself forward!"

Isabella looks toward the seneschal sharply as she hears her name and is called
forward. She glances briefly at her companion and then quietly makes her way
forward. She lowers her head and curseys deeply before the Empress.

Sisay doesn't wait for Fahahd to finish the greeting and takes him by the arm in
a friendly hug. Then she glances back at Henrietta with a cold and piercing
look. Her smile is nevertheless in place and she whispers to Fahahd: "My dear
friend I hoped to catch a glimpse of you to congratulate. Or should I say, My
Lord?"

Fahahd returns the hug, though it's a gesture oddly intimate, especially for a
Hark in public. "Oh, hardly - everytime someone addresses me that way, I'm
tempted to stand to attention - makes me think someone else has come in. But,
now we're equal enough to use our names with each other, if you prefer?"

Rising from the curtsy, Henrietta smiles winsomely at the Earl of Skaya, waiting
until he's done embracing the Ginaz girl-child, whom she dismisses without so mu
ch as a glance, "My Lord Earl," she begins in a sweet voice. "My collegues and
I, were were touched by your gift to Her Imperial Majesty, as we do love and
adore her muchly. Anything that makes Her happy, delights us."

Tat'iana settles back further in her throne, eyeing the presented lady with a
not unkindly eye. "We understand that you are newly-arrived to Kaitain, m'lady.
We would like to welcome you. Is all to your liking, thus far?"

Fahahd replies, voice bland, "As well it should - though such loyalty and
affection is certainly commendable. May she have joy of it." He keeps an arm
halfway around Sis's shoulders, though, in a gesture of almost brotherly
affection.

Galen raises an eyebrow at the Senechal's rather provocative word choice, but
otherwise remains contentedly masked amidst the crowd, his arms folded across
his chest.

Isabella rises from her curtsey as the empress addresses her. She smiles softly
at the lady and nods, "Thank you for your kind welcome. I have found Kaitain and
my duties here much to my liking. New people and challenges are always of
interest Your Majesty."

Slade, the Supreme Sardaukar, glances over at the official calling court as he
addresses the Empress but turns his attention to the Moritani woman. The Eye on
her form.

Martin stands calmly in his place in the corner of the room, he watches his
fellow Moritani Ambassador almost if the support her. A smile does appear on his
face.

Sisay slips her arm around Fah's waist, holding her books in the other one.
Although she smiles (more to Fahahd some might say) her eyes sparkle with
antipathy. <<My dagger with your spoiled blood on it would be more happier.>>
She mutters: "Fhahd, I think the Lady likes you. I wonder when the next 'party'
at your Embassy might be..."

"And what is it you will be doing here, during your tenure on Kaitain," Tat'iana
inquires softly, her head tilted forward to listen.

Fahahd mutters to Sisay, "... me.... party..."

Lady Henrietta places her hand to her heart in an elaborate show of being
utterly moved. "Lady Genoa sends you her regards, My Lord Earl." She twists
around, indicating Genoa with a nod of her head. Lowering her voice, she says,
"She's the bigger of the two." Then smiles again. "She wonders if you mightn't
like to dine with her tonight. She dines...late."

Isabella stands very still before the lady as she replies, "I am a diplomat for
House Moritani Your Majesty. Thus far I have merely been attempting to make the
rounds to the various embassies to introduce myself and get to know the other
diplomats here."

Fahahd makes a moue of regret, before replying, "I fear I have other duties
tonight, my lady. Perhaps some other time?" Duties involving Ulricke and
leather, no doubt.

Maximillian, distanced from everyone else, still stands and watches, an observer
for the moment.

Sisay just can't help herself and bursts into laughter. Quickly she conceals her
face between Fah's shoulder and her books. She comments: "I wonder why such
refined and young Ladies would dine late... and lonely..."

Fahahd looks patient, as he murmurs to Sisay. "Why doesn't she just say what she
wants? All this dancing around the issue," A shake of his head. Harkonnen are
very direct about this sort of thing.

And God knows Lady Genoa can dance. Feet that just don't quit.

Tat'iana peers across the room to the Harkonnen, and the young lady, the
laughter having caught her attention. But the glance is brief, and not hostile.
Merely curiosity is upon her face, but she quickly turns back to the Moritani.
"Ahh, our noble cousines, the Moritani. Most excellent, m'lady. We bid you much
success in your endeavors." And, to the Seneschal, another nod. Next petitioner?

And Sisay knows that, much of her own experience. "I think the Ladies would
pretty much need a lesson in directness..." And pain, she would add.

Isabella curtseys once again and then makes her way back to her quiet corner.

Martin nods to Isabella with a smile as she returns to the corner, speaking
quietly to her.

Henrietta smile sweetly once more. "I'll let the Lady Genoa know you are
occupied." To Sisay, she smiles kindly, as though to a small child or half-wit.
"My dear, someday you might understand, if you are lucky enough." She winks at
the girl impishly. Turning she returns to Genoa to deliver the bad news and
anyone can tell she's not disappointed that Genoa was rejected.

The Commanding Killer watches for the next 'victim'.

Fahahd bows again to Henrietta, looking not at all rueful that she's gone.

Sisay curtseys as the Lady leaves, thinking <<You wouldn't know just how lucky I
am... and how miserable your kind is>> But she turns to Fahahd and says:
"Finaly, I can congratulate you propperly for your title _and_ for the noble
gesture you just did." She pauses and looks up to him. "You don't know just how
special you are, my dear friend."

Scuffling forward, the Seneschal tirelessly performs another perfect bow, one
surely deserving of a 10, even from the Rastanyev judge. "Your ambrosial
Majesty, another presentation..." He pauses there, to turn to the room,
announcing, "Please come forth, Lord Constable, Count Maximillian Alaric
Corrino.."

Fahahd just grins down at her. "ANd you're too kind, my dear. Do come visit the
EMbassy, when you can?"

Maximillian steps forward from his place at the wall, pacing smoothly across the
room to bow formally to the Empress, on hand on his heart, the other tucked
slightly behind him. "Most radiant Majesty," he murmurs.

Sisay retreats her arm from around the Harkonnen's waist, not without lingering
a bit to give him a squeeze. "Only if you promise me you send that horrible
dragon away..." she says, surely meaning the na-Baron by that denomination.

Galen can't quite stiffle an amused snort, at the rather gushing praise being
leveled at the worthy, and recently enobled, Harkonnen guard captain. Of course
he immediatly focuses his attention back to the 'action' revolving around her
Imperial Majesty.

Fahahd grins, giving her a last hug. "Surely."

Sisay curtseys gracefully to Fahahd before turning around to watch the
proceedings.

Tat'iana chuckles quietly, seeing who is the latest to be presented. "M'lord,
or, perhaps I should call you cousin, given your relation to His Majesty. We are
pleased to so formally make your esteemed acquaintance."

The Socrates of Sardaukar Order turns to look at the Constable.

Maximillian smiles at the Empress as he straightens. "My thanks, Majesty. I
wished only to be able to say I had stood before your person. It is a unique and
most pleasant honor." As much for the room as for the Empress, "I stand here
ready to serve your Majesties, your laws, and the Lord Justiciar." A thought
turns back to Emylie, but only for a flickering moment - what will come of this?
No matter. Maximillian looks up at the Empress.

Tat'iana smiles softly, inclining her head to him in a slow nod. "We bid you,
again, a warm welcome, m'lord. And much success to you." To the Seneschal,
another small nod is given.

The Terror Tropper of Religious Fanaticism continues to hold his place at the
Empress' side.

Maximillian bows once more and withdraws, moving this time towards the larger
clustering of nobles, though with no specific person as his destination.

Kaira ascends the lapis lazuli staircase from the eastern wing.
Kaira has arrived.

Fahahd has stepped back to the edges of the gathering, as well.

Scurrying forward, a small bead of sweat finally appearing on his brow, the
Seneschal bows yet again. "Your most dulcet Majesty... a final entry on your
schedule today -- the Lady Sisay Ginaz, to be presented." The man turns, raising
his voice above the quieter conversations around the room, "Would the Lady Sisay
Ginaz, please come forth?"

Hearing her name being called, Sisay quietly approaches the Empress quickly and
dips in a low curtsey which would seem quite gracious would she be wearing a
dress. But in those pants, she looks rather... curious, although it is a
preferred outfit for the practice hours at the Conservatory. She says: "Your
M... Majesty.."

Stepping into the Hall and slowly joining the assembly is a woman that can only
be of the House Bajazet. As is common for their women this exotic creature wears
a thin red viel over the bottom half of her face, easily see through as she is
not one to wish to cover herself. Her dark almond shaped eyes wander curiously,
trying to draw little attention to herself while all eyes are on Her Majesty.

Tat'iana barely contains the rise of her brow at the young lady's costume, but
smiles nonetheless. Her voice softening upon noting the apparent stammer of the
nervous-looking young woman, she says quietly, "Lady Ginaz. Now this is indeed a
distinct honor for us to finally meet you, and bid you welcome to Kaitain. All
is well, thus far, yes?"

The Gray Guarding Golem of God continues to stand so close to the fruitful Womb
O'Heaven.

Fahahd gives sis an encouraging smile.

Sisay raises from the curtsey and quickly hides her books behind her back. She
looks towards the Empress and glances quickly at the Golem besides her. "Your
Graceful Majesty, the sun keep shining on our paths, many thanks to You and His
Most Sublime Majesty. The Maruis Ginaz, as well as my teachers at the Imperial
College would like to greet Her Majesty and wish You all the best in the
Universe." She can't believe that she's actually talking to the Empress! And
that excitement can be surely felt in her voice.

Maximillian moves towards Emylie, eyes questioning. He nods slightly towards her
as he steps nearby. "Lady Fenring."

Despite the rumors, Fahd hasn't even given EMylie a a glance.

From her vantage point along the wall, Emylie turns to see the Count Corrino.
She offers him a vague, if wary nod in greeting, dipping ever so slightly into a
curtsy.

Tat'iana chuckles very quietly, giving the young girl a final, deep nod. "We are
grateful for your kind wishes," she says slowly.

Before Tat'iana can gather herself to depart, though, the Seneschal weasels
forward, much like a puppy who knows it's done wrong. "A thousand pardons, Your
most melliferous Majesty," he murmurs, lifting his thumb in the air. "My wayward
digit concealed a name from the schedule. I've missed one...."

Maximillian raises an eyebrow as he takes a position near Emylie on the wall.
"You seem... uncomfortable, Lady Fenring."

Sisay curtseys once again, turns around and dissapears quickly from the
center-stage. Arriving in a more quiet place she allows herself to start
breathing again.

Her Eunuchs behind her keeping close watch over their charge, the Lady al-Ashrad
watches the scene unfold before her. Being one of her few visits to the Palace
she conceals none of her fascination with what she beholds.

Fahahd moves through the crowd to pat Sisay gently on the shoulder.

Were this lady of any other House, perhaps, she might very well have ordered the
Seneschal to cut off the offending thumb as penance. But, instead, the Empress
merely indulges the man with a nod, replying smoothly, "We will of course hear
them. One more soul on my schedule does no harm."

Breathing much easier, the man turns to the room, "Lord Martin Rinaldi, Earl of
Tuscan, please present yourself!"

Sisay turns around and nearly collapses into Fah's arms. Too much excitement for
one day... she says: "Startled me, did you!" before embracing him again.

Fahahd laughs, before letting her go. "Jumpy, are you?"

At the sound of his name, Martin Rinaldi slowly makes his way up to the Empress.
He bows deeply and respectfully to her. "I'm glad to have this opportunity to
say this before our departure for Arrakis, Your Majesty. House Moritani is
greatfully to see that you are alive and well. As a small token, I have brought
you this gift." He holds out a box that was concealed under his jacket. He waits
for her or her servants to take it before continuing.

 Breathing much easier, the man turns to the room, "Lord Martin Rinaldi, Earl of
Tuscan, please present yourself!"'.

Sisay gasps and motions with her hand towards the Empress... "She ... talked to
me! My god, I was just trying to relax after my work when I stumble to the...
uh... Empress... too much, this is

Tat'iana waves a hand to summon a Noukker, nodding to the Moritani as her eyes
study him briefly. "We are pleasantly surprised, Lord Rinaldi... such displays
and gifts as have been given of late are indeed touching. Indeed, I am nearly
speechless." She flashes a brief smile, as the Noukker strides forward and
accepts the package from the man.

Once the box is open, it is a transparent globe. With a large snowflake hovering
inside. The key on the bottom once turned starts to play a Rastanyev melody from
it, turning the snowflake slowly. The snowflake in the music looks different
givening off a shimmering sparkle.

Kaira grins softly seeing a familiar face in Lord Rinaldi. She steps through the
gathering remaining in the outskirts of the crowd.

Martin grins and bows to her, never looking up or making eye contact. His voice
is steady and strong. "We are simplely overjoyed and try to show our happiness
in appropriate matter as possible. The snowflake is maded out of Arrakis sand,
polished into a his crystaline shine." He bows again. "Thank you for your
moment, Your Majesty."

Her eyes light up, and she tilts her head to listen to the melody, closing her
eyes ever so briefly as she does. When Tat'iana again looks to the man, her
smile is even more fixed on her face. "My daughter will love its music, m'lord.
I will ensure she hears it every night as she settles down to sleep."

Martin continues to grin. "You honour us, Your Majesty. We are happy to know
that your children will enjoy your gift and so will you. House Moritani will
always be willing to serve and celebrate you and your family."

"Yes, My Lord Count," Emylie replies hestitantly. "The Baron has recently been
appointed Caid of Kaitain."

Isabella stands quietly in the corner watching Martin's exchange with the
Empress. Her hands are folded behind her back and she dips her head as if in
agreement with Martin's last words.

Tat'iana dips her head in a final nod. "We are confident, m'lord, of the
continued success of your noble House. Our thanks..."

Fahahd is back among the crowd, though his dark uniform stands out amidst the
bright colors of the courtiers.

Martin bows and to her backs way, before departing from the area and to the
corner. He stands besides Lady Isabella waiting for the end of the court.

Maximillian looks at Emylie for a moment. "He seems fond of you."

Kaira takes a moment to note the many faces present. Some she has seen, most are
unfamiliar. She does keep to herself, only her escort captain occasionaly
whispers to her in the Amat language.

Isabella descends the lapis lazuli staircase to the eastern wing.
Isabella has left.

Tat'iana rises from her throne and steps down from the dais. The Lady Madeline,
however, is given a pointed glance, and she stands waiting for the girl to note
it.

The Brute makes his way down to the side of the Empress. Eye focused on the
door.

As The Empress descends, the Ladies-in-Waiting jump into action, flocking around
Her Imperial Majesty. Madeline starts towards the Empress as well, but slows
down as she catches Tat'iana's eye. She blanches slightly, but soldiers on
bravely.

Across the room, Emylie, too, takes her cue. She curtsies before Count Corrino.
"My Pardon, My Lord. I must attend Her Majesty." Emylie darts off, not the least
be ungrateful to have ben sparing having to answer the man's question.

Fahahd deliberates, not far from the exit. TO stay a bit, or head for the
Library.

Maximillian shakes his head as Emylie dashes off, then looks around to see who
else is here and of some interest.

"Lady Madeline," the Empress says in a slightly stern, but quiet voice, "I will
see you in my sitting room... later."

Martin stays in his corner, but bows again respectfully at the Her Imperial
Majesty. The Majestic presences. His eyes do peek up, looking momentarily to
certain people present, before they departure.

Lady Madeline can only manage to nod grimly, a stricken look on her face. The
other Ladies-in-Waiting fall silent, staring at Madeline both sympathically and
with morbid interest. Suffice to say though, they are all grateful 'tis she and
not they.

Kaira furrows her thin brows slightly nothing the tension between the Empress
and this Lady Madeline. She remains with a passive expression continuing to move
slowly through the crowd with curiosity.

Fahahd glances back, to notice teh EMpress's expression.

Tat'iana turns, giving nods to those whose eye she happens to catch, and begins
to make her way to the stairs. Noukkers, ever watchful, snap to attention and
then move rapidly to their formation around her in preparation to descend.

You descend the lapis lazuli staircase to the eastern wing.


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

-----Imperial Seneschal-----
This petite man is puffed with his own self-importance. Never far from the
Emperor during public appearances, he flits about, making adjustments,
straightening the hair of pages, reprimanding Noukkers for scuffed boots, and
overseeing the servants. He carries the schedule for Imperial court in his left
breast pocket, his hand nervously patting it every few minutes. The overall
effect is of a hairless, yappy dog darting around the larger dogs, trying to
convince everyone of his larger stature.


-----Adrian-----
Tall, handsome, with broad shoulders and a musculature obiviously honed in an
environment foreign to the idle luxuries of Kaitain, Adrian bin-Alman Corrino
stands a hair over six feet in height, and carries his form with the careless
agility of an athlete. Swarthy black hair, kept short and neatly groomed, frames
a face of olive skin which is dominated by an aristocratic chin and nose, proud
and strong as are his expressive mouth, often given to winning smiles as well as
brooding scowls, and his eyes ... a dark blue that is almost black, its midnight
hue all but blending with the pupils.

His trim figure is dressed in the stark severity of a Sardaukar uniform, its
black tunic and trousers, immaculately free of stain or speck, are unbroken of
decoration save for a series of iron stars over his breast, their circular
formation surrounding a single, lustrous diamond coloured blue and green to
mimick the view of Kaitain from space, the very world he is sworn to protect. A
personal shield generator is hooked upon his belt, as are a maula pistol and a
communications device. Indeed, there is no room for ostentation, not in this,
his official service to the Padishah Imperium, perhaps a difficult truth for one
Corrino-born to swallow.


-----Adrick-----
         You see before you a rather short middle-aged man perhaps half as tall
as you. His hair graying and thinning on the top, he has very bushy mustache and
long eyebrows. Despite his size he appears to be in quite good physical
condition. Adrick's face is thin with a few wrinkles which begin to show his age
His red sapho stained lips quite prominent.
         Adrick wears a brown tunic that buttons down the side, a dark brown
overcoat, black pants and black boots. His clothes remarkably fit his small form
quite perfectly.
         Adrick wears a small pin on his right breast. It is the crest of House
Zisaria: a small marine animal with large fins and a small snout on an ocean
background. The orange Zisarian sun setting over it. On his index finger, the
ring with a strange red symbol on it.


-----Emylie-----
The face is oval, under a cap of hair the color of roasted chestnuts, swept up
and twisted about a simple silver ring - encircling her head like a coronet -
before cascading down her back in a mass of curls. Her eyes are set wide, as
green and as clear as the morning skies of her beloved Hasrith. The nose is
small and patrician, the mouth wide and generous.

Emylie Fenring has donned a black mourning garment woven of brushed silk which
highlights her trim physique and yet flows about in a mass of gentle folds which
descend tauntingly to the soft, silken slippers that encase her feet. Long
sleeves balloon at the elbow into long drapes, the square cut neckline hints at
much but prudently stops short of revealing any secrets. The dress sets off to
perfection the seventeen-inch waist and the tightly fitted basque shows breasts
well matured for her nineteen years. Around her neck hangs a platinum ring with
the manticore regnant sigil of Fenring etched on it.

But for all the modesty of her spreading skirts, the demureness of hair, and the
quietness of small, white hands, her true self is poorly concealed. The verdant
eyes in the carefully sweet face are turbulent, wilful, lusty with life,
distinctly at variance with her sorrowful demeanor.


-----Fahahd-----
         The face of a hardened warrior, with steely eyes that would strike fear
into the hearts of even the toughest of the Imperial forces....not quite. In
fact, the man's face is disarmingly boyish, making his real age hard to tell. No
scars or lines betray the hand of Time, save one: the lobe of his left ear is
simply gone, as if cut or ripped away.. The green eyes, slightly slanted and
posessed of a peculiarly innocent intensity bordering on bewilderment, peer out
from beneath slender brows, over high cheekbones...the thin mouth is generally
set in a thoughtful expression. The rest of his features are slightly angular,
giving him a gamine, somewhat feral air. Hair of a deep ash blond is cropped
close, giving it the appearance of a marten's pelt - though glints of silver now
spark among the darker hairs, an odd contrast with the youthfulness of his face.
         Neither very bulky nor particularly large, he's sleek and compact, with
the build of a trained gymnast - all muscles in proportion. His movement is
fluid, with the speed and boneless grace of one of the small furred fighters: a
mongoose or marten, rather than a panther....though his general stance is
posessed of a peculiar solidity, seeming nearly unshakable when his feet are
planted. The squarish hands are strong and deft, adorned with scars and
calluses, rather than the soft skin and jeweled trinkets of the nobility.
         He's neatly and soberly clad in the dark uniform of a member of the
Harkonnen Familiar Guard, with the silver eight-pointed stars that signal a
Commander's rank gleaming from collar and cuffs, and jackboots polished to a
gleaming gloss. On the left shoulder is a brightly embroidered patch: a white
shield emblazoned with an equal armed scarlet cross, surmounted by a silver
sword - the insignia of one who served in the campaign in the Outremer system on
the Bajazet frontier. From a sword belt of glossy black leather depends a
steel-hilted kindjal in a worn sheath. The belt also holds a maula pistol in a
snug holster, as well as a standard-issue shield generator, most often on and
humming contentedly. Despite the uniform and weaponry, his general air seems
more clerkish than martial.


-----Galen-----
         A man, standing at 6 ft. 1 in., the lyth athletic frame of Lord Malcolm
Galen has obviously undergone a high degree of martial training. However, there
is very little 'bulk' to his musculature. 'Wiry' would be a good term to
describe him. Malcolm has close-cropped dark hear frame piercing gray eyes. A
neatly trimmed goatee adds definition to his chin, and his face is mostly
unlined. His lips bear faint red stains brought on by the drinking of the juice
pressed from sapho roots, however the stains are not nearly as pronounced as
they are on most Mentats. Perhaps Lord Galen is not a habitual imbiber of the
traditional drink of his profession?

         Lord Galen is dressed in a suit of charcoal-grey silk, with matching
black boots. His frock coat is gathered at his waist by a silken sash over which
rests a finely made, but well-worn, shield belt and ebony hilted dirk with a
platinum band around the pommle. Upon his left breast is a silver phoenix,
symbol of the retainers of House Rastanyev and is Lord Galen's only adornment
save for the ring upon his right hand. The ring is a simple silver band bearing
a sapphire cut into the House Galen crest. Closer inspection of the ring reveals
that it is also a miniature poison snooper of Ixian manufacture.


-----Isabella-----
She is a lady of medium height and build. Grey eyes which vary in hue depending
upon the lighting regard the world from within an olive complected face. She
wears her dark thick hair long. Parted at the left temple she has woven a braid
across her brow which continues down the right hand side of her face and neck.
She has lightly pulled all the rest of her locks into a burgundy colored ribbon
at the nape of her neck. The dark mass continues down to the middle of her back
where it curls at the ends in a random fashion. While the cut of her dress is
simple the design suggests a subtle sophistication. The white dress is unadorned
but for the burgundy fleur de lis that encircles the hem and cuffs of the dress.


-----Kaira-----
Kaira is a stunning beauty. To look upon her is to see the kind of woman ancient
kings erected monuments too. Clearly of the Middle-Eastern ethnicity of old
Terra, with the classic almond shaped eyes of such a bloodline, she seems in her
very early twenties. Even in her eyes can her heritage be seen, for her gaze is
as deep, and proud as any of her noble ancestors.
          Her face is extraordinarily lovely, showing off some fine traits.
Soft, flawless skin, thin brows, dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and full,
pouty lips are among those qualities. By nature her skin is a very tanned,
coppery color, even though you doubt this well bred young woman spends much time
in the sun. She stands at 5'6, and couldn't weigh more than 110 pounds. Her
chocolate colored hair, falling from a centre parting, flows like silk past her
shoulders to her mid-back, seeming smooth, and soft to the touch, with her long
bangs flowing down the sides of her face. Her thin figure is very attractive,
with sensually enticing curves, shapely hips , and excellent legs. She has a
sleek, thin figure, which seems almost feline. Her breasts are generous, and
clearly fit her frame adequately. She displays both grace, and strength, again
much like that of a feline, with her every stride. Her head is always held high,
her confidence giving a dignified impression. Her voice is usually playful in
one manner or another, soft, and most pleasant to the ear. She does indeed give
off a light accent of the Bajazet homeworld, but no matter what language she is
speaking in, her words are always well pronounced.
          She dresses in the elegant manner of royalty, wearing a form fitting
dress that looks almost oriental in style, which flows almost to her ankles. The
designs are intricate, flowery patterns, with the colors of House Bajazet.
Mostly black, interrupted by white, and red, with added yellow. On her feet you
find a comfortable pair of sandals matching the dresses style.


-----Martin-----
This average sized man stands before you, but no longer looking his normal self.
His complexion seems a little pale than normal. His hair is kept neat and
trimmed along with the rest of his appearance, but his attire is no longer his
normal self. His fashionable style of dress is gone. A conservative cut, black
jacket and matching pants is his attire. The jacket is always worn button up,
his normal vest is now gone. A dark grey shirt is worn underneath. His normal
black leather boots are still present, but what is missing is his gold spurs. An

oddity for him to no longer wear them. The gold pin of the House Moritani livery
is still attached to him. The only true colour of his clothing. His long
overcoat is still present, but he has worn a black coat, not the more
fashionable of his previous one.


-----Maximillian-----
At just under six foot, Maximillian is a thin man with a handsome face and
serious mien. His hair, a light brown, is cropped short; his eyes, a hazel
approaching amber, bracket an aristocratic nose. His skin, though very fair, is
slightly tanned, as if he's been spending some significant time outside.

His clothes are exquisitely made, elegantly simple works of art in the black and
gold of House Corrino. His jacket is black suede, held closed by a line of gold
buttons down the left side of his chest and set off at the cuff by a thin line
of gold piping. His pants, cut close to the leg, are also black; they descend
neatly into the tops of ankle-length soft leather boots, each with two small
gold buckles.

He wears no jewelry besides two rings: on his right hand, a gold signet bearing
the family seal, and on the left, a silver signet with the mark of the Lord
Constable.


-----Mintor-----
         The handsome, rakish man that stands in front of you is tall, over 6
feet, and wiry. He appears athletic, a testament to his rigorous workout
regimen. His dark hair is well kept and short, cut in a military style. His blue
eyes are bright and seem to have an amused air to them most of the time. His
smile is warm and inviting, and he has an easy going, friendly air about him.

         He is currently wearing the finest Caladanian fashions, rich in design
and unique to the Atreides. The Atreides green looks sharp, a contrast to his
blue eyes. The long cape that flows from the back of this man is long, and made
of Caladanian silk. His pants are form fitting, and the latest in fashions from
the Empire. His boots are out of place in his outfit. There are a worn pair of
black riding boots, that come up to his calves. It actually adds to the nostalga
of the clothes he is currently wearing, and gives onlookers a peak into the
man's personality.


-----Sisay-----
Sisay is a tall teenager, with curly black hair reaching down her shoulders. It
flutters wildly in the breeze, giving her a rebel look. Her eyes are obsidian
black and seem to radiate inner awareness and strength. Her body is very well
built, generous forms with an athletic look. Although she might not be
considered a classical beauty, her cute face, tiny nose and full, sensual lips
make many viewers' eyes linger, or return for a stolen second glance.

She wears a scarlet sleeveless tunic with dozens of tiny silver and purple
dragonflies - insignia of House Ginaz - painstakingly embroided in metallic
threads about he neck and shoulders. A broad red belt is tightened around her
waist. You think you notice a dagger underneath it. Sisay form-fitting,
buttercup-yellow pants of lightly textured silk which meet high wolfskin boots
of exquisite quality.

At Sisay's wrist is a remarcable piece of art. The bracelet is made of black
opals and perls, woven with the purest gold on a delicate silver mounting. The
Ginaz firefly emblem is woven onto it aswell, made of many small rubys and
perls. It fits the Lady's wrist perfectly.


-----Slade-----
 His skin is like leather, rough and brown. Black hair cropped close to the
skull revealing his widow's peak where he is going bald. Angular cheekbones
supported by a strong jawbone. A slight cleft runs in the chin adding to the
angles of his face. A single cold blue with in blue right eye hides under a
thick brow. The left eye socket is covered with a piece of dull gray steel held
in position by screws drilled in to his head. He wears his scars proudly as
medals. His mouth is set in a simple neutral line and his face is a stoic mood.
The most prominent scars on his face are a diagonal slash across his left eye, a
small vertical scar at the right corner of his lips, and a horseshoe shape scar
that begins in the middle of his forehead and goes around his right eye and
stops in the middle of his right cheek. His short, thick neck rests upon wide
shoulders that descend in to a broad back. A large, powerful muscled chest rests
at top a flat stomach. His giant thick biceps and triceps are attached to huge
forearms and his powerful long legs move in a fine tuned military cadence.

 He wears a simple long sleeve, black tunic over his torso with the proper
indications of the rank of Hegemon, unit patch of 75th SRFL Emperor's Own on
left sleeve, and a circular patch showing a skull and cross bones on the right
sleeve. Dark gray field pants cover his legs and are tucked into knee high black
marching boots. From the right boot, the pommel of a dagger can be seen sticking
out. Strapped over the boots are dark metallic blue plasteel grieves with battle
scenes of Sardaukar victories etched in to them. Plasteel gauntlets of the same
dark metallic blue cover his hands and are etched with more Sardaukar battle
scenes. A black shield belt fits securely around his waist with a shoulder strap
that crosses over his right shoulder. In a sheath on the left side of the belt
hangs a military saber while a kindjal and a stiletto hang on the right side of
the belt. To his left forearm a slip-tip is fastened and a kukri is sheathed on
the side of his right thigh. A long dark gray cape falls to about mid thigh and
attaches to the tunic by dark metallic blue paudrons etched with more Sardaukar
battle scenes. Upon his head sits a black Sardaukar beret baring the skull and
crossbones emblem on it.


-----Tat'iana-----
Of average height for a woman, Tat'iana carries herself as though she were
taller than she actually is. Her chin is angled proudly, her ivory complexion
smooth and flawless, if not even more pale and porcelainesque than usual. Thick,
dark lashes ring steely-gray eyes, which tilt upwards at the corners. Though
they are the color of stormclouds, her eyes do catch the light, giving them more
of a silvery quality. Lips that are neither too full, nor too narrow, rarely
these days are graced by a soft smile.

Her deep ebony hair shines, the color so deep it almost casts a blue tint. Tiny,
intricate braids of her hair are looped up, caught up in cleverly hidden pins.
Atop her head, certainly out-doing the shine of her hair, is a diadem composed
of brilliantly white Hagallian crystal. Almost shard-like, the gems are arrayed
in a starbust pattern, each ray narrowing to a crisp point and topped with a
round crystal drop. The light reflected by the piece might even be blinding,
were the glowglobes tuned more brightly.

Her silken gown is also entirely in black, even the lace trim at the bottoms of
the fitted, pointed sleeves being so dark as to come near to swallowing light.
The gown seems more composed of layers, the neck of the bottom-most shell rising
up her neck near to her ears even, and flaring out once reaching its peak.
Teardrop-shaped jet beads dangle from the front tips of the lifted and arched
collar. Designs in small black beads cover the bodice, down to a point just
below where her navel would be. A voluminous surcoat in black velvet is the
topmost layer of the costume, its sleeves wide and full. Designs overstitched
onto the velvet in black are reminiscent of stylized lions, large and rampant
along the edges of the skirt and sleeves.


-----Yvgenie-----
        The kind of face one'd expect to see glaring proudly down from one of
the ancient recruiting posters: craggily masculine - all planes and angles, with
high cheekbones, a nearly blade-like nose, and skin as pale as milk. Icy blue
eyes peer out from under slender black brows - only the faintly wistful
expression they usually contain, as well as a certain humorous twist to the thin
lipped mouth save his features from a forbidding severity. Hair of a glossy
black is shaved close at the sides, and let grow down to his shoulder blades on
the top; it's usually confined into a tightly plaited queue by a length of
velvet ribbon and silvery beading.
         Standing at around six feet, he might once have been described as
lanky...before something laid down layers of defined muscle, leaving him with a
certain wiry muscularity. He doesn't have the typical bodybuilder's lumbering
quality, though, as if the musculature came from some sort of hard labor, rather
than time in the gym. His hands, despite their calluses from rein and whip, are
clearly those of a scholar, refined and delicate.
         At first glance, he's dressed with a all but priestly simplicity in the
deep crimson and white of his House's colors - though a closer glance betrays
the richness of its working and the dandyish attention to detail; his linen is
nearly blinding in its brightness, the high boots are polished to a mirror
gloss, and not a thread is out of place. A coat of velvet so deep a burgundy as
to be nearly black is fitted close to shoulder and torso, before flaring out at
his waist. The shirt underneath is also plain, without embroidery or decoration,
though it has the sheen of silk. His riding breeches are also rather fitted,
though of a material stretchy enough not to impair movement. His only apparent
concessions to vanity are the platinum signet on one ring finger, and the
teardrop of deep red Hagal quartz that winks from his left ear.


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