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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

A Valentine's Day Celebration


Zariah

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Venefyxatu carefully takes the dandelion from Gwaihir.

 

"A talking flower ... this is a remarkable gift, and I thank you for it. I'm sure I will enjoy its conversation."

 

As Gwaihir doesn't quite know what to say, Venefyxatu is about to answer his question when Pilocanci's assault troops come in. Before five sentences are exchanged he quits paying them any attention, discarding the entire scene as what he once would have seen as petty squabbles compared to his own battles. Noticing that Gwaihir would have no problem thinking of a more interesting conversation (from what he has seen, most likely with a plant), he further ignores the interruption.

 

"Zariah? Upset? I did not really notice, although at first she did seem a little worried that the ball would not be a success. That turned out all right, though, so I see no reason why she would be upset. But ... why would she be mad at you, if I may ask?"

 

As Gwaihir tells Venefyxatu vaguely about what happened with the punch, the latter manages to suppress a smile.

 

"I think I just caught a glimpse of her, and I did not notice any punch stains, so I think that has been solved. She did not seem like a person who bears grudges, either, although all that would be a lot easier to tell if she ... didn't breathe so much."

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Ozymandias' sandals collided violently with the stonework floors of the Pen Keep as he pelted forward with all speed.

 

The weathered and grey Egyptian (body having long ago been pushed to old age before its' time) was nowhere near as quick on his feet as many of the nonhuman members of the keep, but among mortals, counted as one of the swiftest distance runners when the need arose.

 

The need had arisen this very hour, so he ran for all he was woth, breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he churned his screaming legs ever faster, and pushed pleading lungs in and out, again and again.

 

He did all this while viciously throttling a small form in a black robe- clad only else in a garishly red bow tie- with both hands, and gasping oaths at it.

 

As Loremaster, Ozymandias had long ago developed certain mulitasking skills that might seem superhuman. It was a much busier job than being king of Egypt ever had been, this was certain.

 

"Why... Do... I... EVER... *wheeze* Count... On... YOUR... time... Sense... You... insuff... erable... little... HEMMORHOID. now... We're... both... late... and... Za... riah... Is... likely... VERY UPSET." With the effort of even such mildly loud outrage as he could muster at that time, Ozymandias' lungs convulsed, he coughed violently, and he nearly stumbled over Simon and Lewis as they made off in the opposite direction with Wyvern's account ledger...again.

 

Sputtering an apology at them, he renewed his nearly broken stride and continued on.

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The Death of Rats, as unusual a situation as it was to be in, seemed completely unperturbed by Ozymandias' vise grip round its' neck. The only thing that seemed to be having any effetc, was indeed the tirade of eptithets, curses, and half-passing out minute-long kectures on how one should and should not treat a lady.

 

On some levels, it had heard more than enough of such things when it wandered through Orlan's boudoir.

 

The rest of it, however, could only shrug helplessly, even as it's small body was shaken back and forth like some ghastly bone wind chime in a high wind that some dear, deranged chikld had decided to play dress-up with (though the Death of Rats had not seen Minta in months, to be whiolly accurate).

 

For the first time in its' existence, the Grim Squeaker looked sheepish at a verbal assault. No mean feat, especially for it- you try it at that point in your corporeal existence when *you* have no flesh on your skull, and see how far *you* get.

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A raiding party of wolf riders commanded by a dark wizard had destroyed a village and was now holding the citizens hostage. Gasps were heard from the crowd as the news was relayed.

Dark wizard? Elladan and Elrohir paused in the doorway, each reacting to the news in their own fashion.

 

"This is going to upset Dad; I'll make sure the relatives have a nice recompensation," murmurred Elladan.

"A dark wizard. I'd better take care of this before Dad finds out he's being Rude to the villagers. You know how he is about people on the Pen lands," murmurred Elrohir.

 

Each looked at the other with a raised brow.

"'Dan, Elrohir patiently explained, "You *know* that Dad told you to quit killing hostages to remove them from the situation."

"It neutralizes the threat. I'll conduct a funeral service myself."

"No."

"If I ensure that each hostage is buried with two enemy at their feet?"

"No!"

"Seven?"

"'Dan..."

"Okay, I'll help you with the Wizard, we let the techy boys try the hostage thing, and when they mess it up, we kill them ALL."

"it's a start. Wizards and Technology. We need to slip up to the rooms and get a few things I suppose."

Elladan started smiling in anticipation. These toys were usually kept locked away from him...

 

As his boys moved away, Peredhil frowned at them from across the room curiously, but didn't interrupt his conversation.

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After what felt to the Loremaster like forever, Ozymandias and the Grim Squeaker arrived within sight of the Cabaret room's high doors. Skidding to a halt and sucking air like it was going out of style, Ozymandias nearly collapsed where he stood. As oxygen finally reasserted itself in his bloodstream to sufficient levels for him to think again, the care-and-weatherworn wizard took stock of his partygoing appearance in mounting dismay.

 

Late, to such an auspicious occasion for the dear girl and slovenly?, he muttered mentally, even as his gasping finally slowed to a steady rhythm. This will not do.

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Finally seeing a lack of spots in his vision, Ozymandias closed his eyes and concentrated. He reached outward through the aether, questing with his will outside of his own body, across this world and many others, and found his mark. His connection to the magics of Terra -his second homeworld- had thinned over time, however, his tight grip had arrested its' depletion.

 

Today, for the intricacy of power weaving he desired, he slowly produced the foci he knew he would need from belt pouches (though he was still not sure why he had thought to bring them, since he had only thought of this particular enchantment on his way over).

 

First, a handful of red rose petals were scattered in the slight breeze (delivered thus along with the briefest of tiny eyelid opening and smiling to match, as he caught sight of Zariah heading back in- and not having noticed him).

 

Then came a sprinkling of a small pile sand in a semicircle in front of the old wizard- a sand much too dark to be from Pen lands, learned eyes would recognize.

 

Then thirdly, with inclined head, Ozymandias opened his eyes, stuck a fist out casually, then moved it in a strange up, down, down pattern.

 

With as little fanafare as that, the former king of Egypt stood clad in royal finery of the greatest make and design from that far, far off land, and time so long ago.

 

Striding more confidently now (though with an almost imperceptible quaver), Ozymandias carefully measured his steps so that he would enter the hall a few minutes after Zariah did.

 

The hostess, in her turn, started in small surprise when all eyes turned to her as she walked back into the great hall. Zariah began to chide herself for not remembering that it was only natural for party guests to take note of the host or hostess' coming and going - especially if it is through the front door- then stopped as she wondered at where all of this new light was coming from.

 

She gasped in surprise when she realized it was her. Her hair, the folds of her dress, even the motion of legs, arms, and even head, were all accompanied by an exuding of a small, soft nimbus of pinkish-red light, of almost the exact same hue and tone as Presidente Pilocanci's hologram hearts- though her glow was just a little gentler.

 

An animate sash of the same stuff danced and flowed gracefully, almost liquidly all around her, working its' way from head to toe, then back again, accentuating her every movement (and of course, not hampering her vision, or afftecting her in any other way). It seemed to be made of dancing light particles big enough to see, ones that moved gently in their own individual rhythm, expanding and contracting, even as the whole group smoothly continued their silent Zariah-dance. Seemed to be, until she noticed one final detail as they glided past her face once again, curling around her cheek, flying past her lips, turning sharply around her cheek, flowing down her neck and (modestly) continuing on- they were in fact, tiny semitransparent rose petals made of light, whisked along as in a breeze only they could feel.

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Zariah felt tingling within her arms and legs, and she became increasingly nervous with each passing moment.

"What is this?" Zariah thought, "This is surreal, which makes me assume someone is responsible for this. Why me?” Her blushing cheeks were pink with awkwardness, as she realized that she was the focus of attention.

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Black tried to read Sweetcherrie's reaction, but fell short as he usually did with woman. He had many theories about women...and he was sure they were all wrong. Never the less...he couldn't help but think that it was his fault. Sweetcherrie turned to see Black standing before her with a somewhat less proud atmosphere.

 

Black-"I once again apologize for any action I may have done. My goal wasn't to ruin your evening. I'm just a little clumsy when it comes to...you know..."

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"No problem, I understand, I haven't been the best of date tonight either."

 

She looked at Black, who seemed a bit off his normal self.

 

"Could you walk me home please? I have an early appointment tomorrow morning, and I'd rather not be late."

 

Black bowed, "Certainly M'lady, shall we say our farewells to Zariah?"

 

"Yes, we should thank her. She has done a magnificent job with this ball."

 

Together they walked over to Zariah.

 

"Thank you so much Zariah, I've had a wonderful time," Sweetcherrie said,

 

"Tis been a grand evening, M'lady. We need to do it again sometime" Black added.

 

They hugged Zariah, and left for the entrance, saying goodbye to the other pennites on their way to the door.

 

When they arrived at her appartment, Sweetcherrie bend over, and kissed Black on his cheek, "Thank you for the precious gift, and maybe we could go out together again sometimes."

 

And before Black had a chance to react, Sweetcherrie slipped inside, leaving him standing there, lost for words

 

OOC: Worked together with Black for a lot of the posts, especially this last one. Thank you for that Black :D

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Pilocanci began boarding the transport with the Ganaffi brothers. The dictator handed one of his body guards a piece of paper addressed to Zariah. The guard delivered the peice of paper to Zariah. She read it quickly. It basically informed her that they had to go and that if she was still interested in helping them, that she could find them at the set of coordence on the bottom of the paper. Looking up, she saw the transports lifting off the ground, flying at break-neck speed to the command center.

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"Yaaaaaaaah!"

 

Through the invasion of YanYan Ganaffi's Sharpein assault troops, through the milk-curdling convos of Pilocanci and Tzimfemme, through the spectacular light-display entrance of Ozymandias and the Grim Squeaker, through sensitive dandelions, flower-informative hobbits and distant crow rituals, Wyvern continues to "have fun" in Zariah's Ball, flailing about wildly in an attempt to escape the hostile butterflies that still surround him.

 

"Haaaaalllllppppp!"

 

Wyvern careens past Venefyxatu and nearly collides with Sweetcherrie as she departs from the hall, running circles around Ayshela and Wrenwind as he futily attempts to swat at the butterflies in desperation. Breaking through the thin line between Knight and purple shadows and bumping into Gwaihir by accident, the overgrown lizard jumps up and down and attempts to cling to the walls nearby, only to find that he's already torn down several of the climbable decorations.

 

"Annnnaaaaaeeeeeellll! Call'em off, pleeeaaaassssse?"

 

Wyvern jumps onto the bar table as the butterfly swarm switches directions, sliding across it and heading in the direction that the Sharpein troops headed off in. As the butterflies chase Wyvern in the direction of the departing spacecraft outdoors, hoping to avenge the flowers flattened by its landing, Wyvern cries out:

 

"Thanksss for the party Zariaaaaaaahhhhh!"

 

;-)

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After receiving Pillow’s letter and bidding farewell to some of the guests, Zariah became lost in thought.

 

“Well, the Ball turned out alright, I imagine, although, as I estimated, Nyyark didn’t attend. I do hope that he has an exceptional explanation for this, or else I’m not speaking to him for a LONG time…..although, I did get to dance a bit! And I got punch on my dress, and I was able to attend to a naming ceremony, and there is a war going on, and my Crow friends helped decorate, and everyone seemed really nice! Maybe I’ll host another party sometime….”

 

The conservatory began to clear out, and Zariah felt a blend of emotions. She was sad that the Ball had to conclude soon, but pleased that it had been so much fun.

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Annael walks slowly out of the shadows and approaches Zariah. Smoothing the form fitting black dress along her hips, she reached a hand back and ran her fingertips along the odd scar the crossed her shoulderblades where her wings once were.

 

"I'm sorry that I missed the ball Zariah, I truely am. I was....detained." Dropping her hand back to her side and straightening her shoulders, Annael gave a small smile. "Life does that to you sometimes, as I'm sure you already know." Nodding and dropping an elegant curtsy, Annael stood and turned, making her way to the door.

 

"Oh, if you happen to see Jonathan, could you please give him this?" Holding her hand out, a black feather materalized on her palm. Butterflies surrounded it and lifted it off her palm and floated it across the room to Zariah. Taking the feather from the butterflies, Zariah realised that it was one from Annael's wings, except that it was sharpened to a point.

 

"I've always loved Jon's poetry. I've admired the spirit and the emotion that I always feel in his work. I thought that maybe he'd like to have this to write with." Smiling and nodding once again to Zariah, Annael turned and walked out of the room.

 

Running her finger over the new quill for Jonathan, Zariah shook her head and looked around at the room that hosted her successfull ball.

Edited by Annael
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Ozymandias, every inch the pharaoh in his gilt and silken full court dress, enters quietly, as is his custom (even as most leave). He spies the hostess, and makes a beeline to her. Aheming equally quietly as he stops behind the thoughtful girl, he greets her as she turns with a warm smile and a low bow.

 

"The light display was my doing, I admit. I simply wanted everyone to see clearly the beauty of our wonderful hostess tonight, and this was the best accent I could think of. I do hope it's not too much?", he finished, with a worry-furrowed brow.

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"It is not a problem, although I'm not used to attention. Thank you. Well, I'm about to clean up, I hope you don’t mind me excusing myself. Thanks so much for showing up!" With that Zariah bowed her head, and headed to the buffet table.

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Purple Shadows wakes with a start. She looks around the room and realizes that people have started to head out the door. "Ah man, I knew I should have listened to the doctor when he told me to get more sleep!" It always seemed that she fell asleep at the worst times, and by the state that the room was in, she could tell she had missed all the excitement.

 

Noting Ozy across the room, she decided to go and see what he was up to. After all, she was wide awake. Why not go do something exciting?

Edited by purple_shadows
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purple Shadows curtsies and hugs the elder warmly. "I'm doing just dandy. Slept through the ball though. *sigh* But, the night is still young, and now that I'm awale, I feel like dancing. I say we round up whomever we can find and have an after party. We can't be the only one's still awake at this hour. "

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Salinye stood within the doors of the Cabaret room admiring the decorations and various Pennites in their fine apparel. She had chosen a simple pink spaghetti string cocktail dress for the occasion. Pink was a good color on her and she hardly found the occasion in a wizard’s world to wear it. Valentine’s day was as good a reason as any. She fumbled absent-mindedly with a diamond-studded heart shaped pin that held a chiffon sash about her waist, a shade slightly lighter than her dress. Social functions were usually her thing, but she had been buried within her studies lately and had even spent a good portion of time away from the keep hip deep in mage research.

 

Looking around she noticed several faces she didn’t recognize mingled with the many people she not only recognized, but adored. She made a mental note to herself that she really needed to take the time to get to know the newest members of The Pen. Speaking of people she didn’t know, she forced herself to refocus. Equester, she did her research on him, enough to know what a good valentine gift would be. However, she had no idea what the chap looked like.

 

Spying Zariah across the room, she weaved gracefully through the crowd and stood amongst the well-wishers waiting a turn to greet the hostess. Locking eyes with the mistress of the crows the two friends smiled and embraced. “Lady Salinye, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

 

“Yes, yes, I know.” The mage smiled a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid I’ve stayed away too long buried headlong into research. But, it really is good to be back. By the looks of things, you’ve managed to throw a perfect Valentine ball, Zariah.”

 

She smiled modestly. “Yes, well…so far. Give Wyvern time.”

 

They shared a laugh together knowing all too well the lighthearted statement could find truth before the night’s end. “Zariah, I have managed to do some research on the Valentine I was given and think he’ll like the gift I’ve constructed. However, I must admit I have NO idea who he is. Perhaps you could help me? I’m looking for an…Equester?”

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"But, the night is still young, and now that I'm awake, I feel like dancing. I say we round up whomever we can find and have an after party. We can't be the only ones still awake at this hour. "

Ozymandias offers her his arm in response. "Then let us be off!", he declares in a jovial boom. "For the night is young, the moon is full, and the possibilites are endless!"

 

Shadows takes his arm with a wider grin, and he looks at her from the corner of his eye shrewdly. "You know, I'd even say this night calls for a boat ride. We have such a beautiful river running right through the Pen lands that hardly any of us use for anything at all. What do you say to an exploration 'party'?", he finished with overexaggerated eyebrow raising. Purple Shadows rolled her eyes in mock consternation and said,"Sounds interesting, Your Highness."

 

Ozymandias, without jostling her, or letting go of her arm, swung himself out to the Cabaret at large with a grand gesture of his free hand. "Who's with us??", he bellowed.

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Zariah made her way to the nearest buffet table to give the food and drink a quick once over for a cleanup time and effort estimate.

 

On seeing one bowl of punch *move*, however, she did a doubletake and stared at the tiny black-robed form louning in the icy red liquid.

 

The Grim Squeaker gave her a nonchalant little wave and thumbs up (though how exactly he had acquired thunbs *still* was unknown to the mortal world at large).

 

It was at this point she decidedf to instead chat with the band about pack-up.

A raven centerpiece stred woodenly at her as she walked briskly past it sitting there, looking hslighjtly silly in its'new red bowtie,

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Tanny finally meets Ayshela while deciding whether to enter and give a hand in the clean up. With a happy and embarassed smile, she hugs her Valentine.

 

"I'm sorry for not meeting you before, 'shela... after talking a bit to Venefyxatu, a little friend of mine came with a message and I had to leave for a while... " She nods at a small sapling, whose branches move in a farewell.

 

Ayshela smiles in wonder and waves at the small tree. "Tanny, that is a Treant... they aren't from this plane..."

 

"I've had some adventuring, 'shela..." She fishes a package from a well-hidden pocket in her dress. "I've been in some different places, and met some different beings. And sometimes, I've also had chance to work on some different material. This is the result of one such adventure... I hope you like it."

 

Opening the package, Ayshela finds a delicate brooch. The lacework of finely woven silvery threads supports a clear globe of crystal not an inch in diameter. Examining it closely, she identifies a tiny bouquet of flowers.

 

"White freesias and lavender grape hyacinth... or the shapes that they assumed in my weaving." Tanny smiles. "It will always remind you of a cool morning breeze, soothing and calming; and when you're feeling lonely or in need of support, it will also bring the love from every person whose heart you have touched. For that is the meaning of the weaving inside the flowers."

 

 

~~~~~~~~

OOC: Sorry, I really had problems developing my ideas... there will be a short story at Assembly about this brooch - hopefully soon. Happy belated Valentine, 'shela :) *hugs*

Edited by Tanuchan
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Ayshela looks in wonder at the delicate weaving and careful craftsmanship, recognizing a small treasure in her hand. Looking back up at Tanny she blinks back happy tears and hugs Tanny tightly, finally finding breath and words enough to whisper "Thank you. It's beautiful."

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