Parent piece: An Arcane Assembly

Only Sword-of-the-Zenith, Melasema and the Storyteller remained in the dome-shaped demiplane. The vedalken's smile was tired and had a fixated quality about it; the women looked at them, than met each other's gaze. After a moment, Melasema's cheerful smile widened and Zenith nodded minutely.

"I must go, Elphimas," the foxfolk said, bowing deeply. "Farewell."

"Farewell, Zenith," the vedalken replied, a bit hollowly. "Would you show me that quartz-covered plane you mentioned, please? Whenever would be more suitable for you, of course."

"Of course," Zenith replied tersely, "I shall meet with you when I'm ready."

Elphimas nodded gratefully and stared in the distance as the foxfolk cut an opening into the Blind Eternities with a slash of her hand and leaped out of the demiplane.

Melasema bounced to Elphimas' dais, goblet in one hand and a wine bottle in the other. "That went well, don't you think?"

"It could have gone worse," Elphimas conceded, deflating a bit. "And it nearly did."

"Come on, you old grouch," Melasema replied, "it went as well as one could expect." She got before Elphimas' desk and stood there, staring at them. Elphimas just stared back for a moment, then remembered himself and summoned an armchair behind her. Melasema sat down gracefully, beaming at the vedalken. "Thank you!"

"Lord Celen literally walked out before we could even begin," Elphimas pointed out, and teleported a handful of chocolates in their mouth with a faraway gaze.

"And still the old furball came back," Melasema cheerfully replied, filling her goblet. "He aimed for strict authority and got you, host and de facto leader of the group, running after him as a display of importance, but his temper costed him. If he hadn't reacted that badly to Raqsfawda - and Prasna, gods and demons preserve us, what a beautiful fiasco that was - he might have come off as a strict pragmatist, a harsh but authoritative voice of reason. I knew he'd pull something like that, but it's not like he can really afford to be on his own when the Cabal comes knocking."

Elphimas' gaze focused back on her. "You... knew?"

"And didn't tell you, I know, I'm sorry. You're just so cute when you're flustered..." Melasema smiled mischievously. "Also, you earnestly playing the actual beleaguered voice of reason is a nice offset to show how much of a stick in the mud he is. Having both him and Raqsfawda was a masterstroke, by the way, good job."

Elphimas just stared at her, nonplussed. "You are now going to tell me the... the constant bickering was a good thing."

"I shall make a schemer out of you yet," Melasema laughed, crossing her long legs on the desk. "Unopposed, it would have taken both of us to keep an audience from eating from either of their hands - except maybe Oyani, I feel like she judges people by what they have in their pants rather than what's in their head - but Raqsfawda and Celen hate-crush on each other so much they couldn't help but show how petty and bitchy they can be in front of everybody."

"Which undermines their authority," Elphimas concluded, staring in the middle distance again.

"E-xactly," Melasema sang, picking a chocolate from the dwindling bowl.

"At least Lady Oyani and Raqsfawda were civil to each other," the vedalken sighed.

Melasema visibly restrained herself from laughing. "There was some kind of a... situation, while you were out herding wolves..."

Elphimas paled.

"Relax, Elphimas, bet you anything they're going to **** it out before long," the obsidian woman reassured them.

"They are going... never mind, I do not want to know," Elphimas muttered, a truly haunted look in their opal eyes.

"The Storyteller's mighty curiosity, defeated at last," Melasema laughed. "What about Liark, Elphy? Could we turn her?" She grimaced at the vedalken's wince. "Sorry, Elphimas, I sometimes forget how much you hate pet names."

The vedalken shook their head. "I do not mind nicknames, Melasema, just... do not mangle my name, please." They sighed. "Turning Liark... against Lucien? Impossible, or very close to. Her loyalty is absolute, even though he treats her like a glorified pet. I believe he does care for her, however... which is why I believe she could have his, his ear in time. Even a polite accord between us and, and him would do wonders as a deterrent for the Cabal."

"A sound strategy, my opal," Melasema commented, eyes gleaming in anticipation, "I would appreciate a proper introduction sooner rather than later. Are you nodding off on me, darling?" She added, noticing the vedalken's faltering words.

Elphimas let out a sigh that nearly turned into a yawn. "I am... quite tired, to be honest."

"Then I shall let you rest, my opal," she declared, standing up with sultry grace. She smoothed her dress against her curves, stealing a glance at the vedalken, and as was customary she let out a soft disbelieving huff at their utter lack of reaction. "I am going to check on my proteges, then, and dine with His Grace to let him know how much a good special boy he was today, oh yes he was," he said, as if speaking to a baby - or a not particularly bright dog.

"You enjoy this," Elphimas said, disbelieving.

"Not everybody can be as sane as you, darling," Melasema winked, and her figure became a woman-shaped window to a starry sky before disappearing.