There is a party, and Beloved is there, as she is at all things that incite high emotion in others; she watches wars, she watches dances, she observes births, and she will watch the unicorns tonight, as well.

Her occasional laughter is a soft song on the outskirts as she traipses through the bordering grasses that sweep beneath soft winds, maniacal eyes gleaming and flashing with cryptic light as she watches them all move in packs and pairs; the dancers fill the field lit by the pale blue glow of the mushrooms, her Lady observed leaping and bounding with grace and the Lord presiding on the border of the festivities, quiet and imposing and still as watching, wrathful stone.

Does it surprise her he is not dancing?

Only in ways – a man such as he should at least have women fawning at him at this time, as did her other Lord of Darkness, the man with the bone face. Perhaps, she thinks with a gleeful tinkling of laughter, haunting and ethereal in her shadowed position, he is not the man she thought him to be.

Any warlord kept whores. Where were his?

Her eyes narrow as she watches him, a low humming throbbing outwards from her pink lips as they twist as contort, as her red tongue probes their borders and she lets her eyes stray across more of the goings on, watching for something to catch her attention well enough to perhaps lure her forward into the gaiety that sweeps the clearing.

It comes from the stream.

A dark mare, marked with white, almost an oppositional photocopy to the lithe dancer who lurks and watches, who waits. She flashes haunting, empty eyes to watch her as she carries the stone basin to the wooden pedestal, watches as the bones tumble and dance about and the woman stares upon their runic surfaces as if they read something.

Oh?

Does she hear the water whisper, too? Its calling her now, she can her its seraphic symphony, see the starlight reflected on its small surface within the confines of the carved stone, and with a gleeful grin and tender lilt of laughter, she recalls the ancient wood, the pool of blood… the gift the water had given her in the presence of the bewitching Loveless.

"Do they tell you truths?" she asks, pale frame revealed as she waltzes from her hiding place, the brush rustling and her voice sweet and honeyed as her eager (perhaps frenzied) eyes maul the visual display upon the table rather than the one who wields them, "most bones are liars. They only remember what the soul taught them."



Beloved
rust every place that I touch

The life of the party is always late- today was no exception. Kahlua bounded into the gaieties with a happy smile on her face, the tinkling of her music box announcing her entrance, and so for now she purposefully avoided the singers and dancers. She did not wish to interrupt their song with the mathematical contraption that Ulrik had built. The song was beautiful, certainly, but they were creating their own music. And though she longed to dive to the song and dance immediately, she could wait a few minutes until her own song had faded. Instead, her bouncy trot carried her towards Yin and Yang at a booth of sorts, which thoroughly amused Kahlua and made her all the more excited to meet her.

In her mouth swung a glass basket, filled with trinkets of all sorts. For the interested observer, the list was follows: one feathered dragon- blue; seven feathers- three orange, three purple, one gray; one mechanical scorpion- metal; one music box- metal; one glowing rock- yellow.

Settling her basket between her feet as the white mare finished speaking her thoughts on bones and what they remembered (which Kahlua thought was nothing at all), she smiled fondly to each. The fact that she did not wear a horn did not deter her from happiness. She had been invited, after all; what use was there in being afraid? The queen surely did not imagine the idea that she might be kidnapped and carted off somewhere. This would be a rather elaborate ruse to accomplish such a feat, when something far more simple surely would have sufficed to capture the foolish Sunshower.

“Hello, friends!” She announced brightly, her chirping voice talking over the gentle tinkling of the music box that stilled insistently played its simple song. “What are the bones for?” Having never heard of bone reading, but rather interested in what was going on regardless, she settled herself in, ready to chat. As for Khan, he quickly snaked out of the basket, beginning a none-too-inconspicuous sneak towards one of the bones on the ground, prepared to snatch it in his mouth and scamper away if he was not caught first. Of course he probably would be- blue does little to camouflage itself against green grass and brown floors, but the little one had not yet learned this.

Kahlua

The mention of the bones telling the future was enough to make the queen forget all about the music and dance that floated nearby. “Oh, please, please!” she cooed in response to Grimmrot’s offer of a demonstration and she stepped forward around her basket a pace, though not entirely blocking the view of its contents. The queen had not noticed the fortune teller’s gaze settling on the contents, so busy looking at the bones she had been, but she would not have minded an admirer of her things anyways.

Indeed, the queen watched with interest as the black mare turned away to gather her bones and toss them across the field. As for Khan, who has been rather close to grabbing one of the things, he quickly darted away in an attempt to seen as innocent as possible. Watching the small creature as he tumbled off to some other mischief, the queen returned her attentions to the bones. Curious blue eyes watched them with interest but since she knew nothing of the craft it was all just a game to the pretty girl. As for the query about something valuable… Oh, Kahlua was as daft as she seemed. She had no idea the words were asking for a donation and she burst into laughter, bobbing her head and replying jovially, “Oh, there is plenty in there.”

“Is that all they say? That I have something valuable?” she added after Grimmrot had spoken again. Her smile faded somewhat at the revelation as, if that was indeed what the fortune teller was telling her, the queen found it all rather mundane. Of course there was something valuable in there. Nevertheless, she stepped back to allow Grimmrot to further investigate the things.

Still, as Grimmrot investigated, Kahlua was happy enough to divulge the history of each item. The orange and purple feathers which had come from the giant owl (as large as a horse!) that had given her Khan’s egg; the gray feather which had come from Africa; the music box and scorpion that had been gifts from Ulrik after she had given the Basin a blue glass scorpion; the glowing rock, which was a magic she had been gifted; and the basket itself, which was one of the first things she had created when she had become Glazier. On and on, she could have gone about each story, for each one was precious to her, but she let Grimmrot dictate where the conversation went… for now. Surely her telling about all the things had tired the fortune teller’s ears.

Kahlua