Post by Thrasius on Sept 9, 2017 8:04:39 GMT
The Ice Castle was dressed in silver and steel grey. Follow the charcoal runner through the grand entrance, and turn left. The walls are coated in rippling silk, falling like sheets of liquid metal, and quicksilver ribbon in velvet garlands. The candles that line the hall are made of black wax and burn with a pure white flame. Enter the ballroom through ebony doors and find the vaulted ceiling, far above your head, is lit with the same white light as the hall through the candles set into chandeliers larger than most carriages. They cast long, very deep shadows over the room. The servants are all dressed in dark grey, and they carry iron platters bearing iron chalices of a rare, dry white wine from the desert. Heavy iron chains separate the dance floor from the tables on a raised dais, guide people where to walk as they navigate the room, and provide a barrier between the guests and the royal family.
They sit above the others, on thrones, as the guests arrive. The entire royal court is in attendance, and many visitors from the Boil. All of the guests have been asked to wear shades of white, black and grey. Almost all have embraced the theme even further, and wear heavy iron necklaces and rings in place of their usual, finer jewels. The Crown Prince stands alongside his father, his brother next to him, and both are dressed in fine clothing-in-miniature, just five years old. The Princess stands between the thrones of her parents in a dress of silver-grey, decorated with charcoal ribbon. There are no real flowers, but skilled metalcrafters have wrought giant roses from dark grey iron, and these are liberally scattered through the room. A hidden orchestra plays quiet music. Later, food will be served.
It is the sixth wedding anniversary of the King and Queen of Nehan. Occasions like this, in the royal court, are almost always celebrated with a ball. As a teenager Thrasius had been resentful of what seemed like a pantomime, but he'd grown into the roles and responsibilities of his crown over the last few years. Balls were no longer strained, forced affairs, run by parents who were indifferent to him as a person but determined to find him a wife. Now, they were family occasions, chances to show off his own children to his court, and unlike Quirinoh he was an attentive and caring father. They were also a chance to show off his bride - six years later, he still worshipped the ground Arik walked on. She looked like a Goddess on nights like these, and he felt like the luckiest man alive. Now, most of the Castle events were a celebration of all the things he loved, all the things he had in his life, and they didn't seem so bad.
The tempo of the music increased a little once all the guests had arrived and the heavy black doors had swung shut. His court gathered, drinks in hand, and the King stood to address them. He is dressed most grandly of all - in black and dark grey, soft suede pants and high black boots and a tunic of fine silk from the Daemon crafters of Spirit. His crown, black inlaid with pearl, sits on his brow. He, too, wears iron on both wrists, on several fingers.
His speech was short - a thank you for their attendance, a brief reference to the strength of the Crown, and a genuine, heartfelt compliment to his wife before he turned to her and offered his hand, smiling.
"Will you dance with me?"
They sit above the others, on thrones, as the guests arrive. The entire royal court is in attendance, and many visitors from the Boil. All of the guests have been asked to wear shades of white, black and grey. Almost all have embraced the theme even further, and wear heavy iron necklaces and rings in place of their usual, finer jewels. The Crown Prince stands alongside his father, his brother next to him, and both are dressed in fine clothing-in-miniature, just five years old. The Princess stands between the thrones of her parents in a dress of silver-grey, decorated with charcoal ribbon. There are no real flowers, but skilled metalcrafters have wrought giant roses from dark grey iron, and these are liberally scattered through the room. A hidden orchestra plays quiet music. Later, food will be served.
It is the sixth wedding anniversary of the King and Queen of Nehan. Occasions like this, in the royal court, are almost always celebrated with a ball. As a teenager Thrasius had been resentful of what seemed like a pantomime, but he'd grown into the roles and responsibilities of his crown over the last few years. Balls were no longer strained, forced affairs, run by parents who were indifferent to him as a person but determined to find him a wife. Now, they were family occasions, chances to show off his own children to his court, and unlike Quirinoh he was an attentive and caring father. They were also a chance to show off his bride - six years later, he still worshipped the ground Arik walked on. She looked like a Goddess on nights like these, and he felt like the luckiest man alive. Now, most of the Castle events were a celebration of all the things he loved, all the things he had in his life, and they didn't seem so bad.
The tempo of the music increased a little once all the guests had arrived and the heavy black doors had swung shut. His court gathered, drinks in hand, and the King stood to address them. He is dressed most grandly of all - in black and dark grey, soft suede pants and high black boots and a tunic of fine silk from the Daemon crafters of Spirit. His crown, black inlaid with pearl, sits on his brow. He, too, wears iron on both wrists, on several fingers.
His speech was short - a thank you for their attendance, a brief reference to the strength of the Crown, and a genuine, heartfelt compliment to his wife before he turned to her and offered his hand, smiling.
"Will you dance with me?"
